Usually, if someone mistakes you for a worker at a store that you clearly don't work at, a simple, "Sorry, I don't work here," is usually enough to clear up any confusion. Some people, however, hear "I definitely DO work here and if you cause a scene, that'll get me to help you even faster!" These people really need to learn how to take a hint!
He Snatched The Burger Right Off Their Tray
“So, today my family and I went out for lunch at a super casual dining restaurant. This was one of those places where you order at the counter and collect your own food to take back to your table. No servers, whatsoever.
So I went to pick up my family’s order (five of us eating, so it was a pretty big tray), and was headed back to my table when I felt a flabby hand close around my arm, that of Entitled Burger Man (EBM). I turned around to politely ask him to get off me when he reached out and took a burger off of my tray. The following conversation occurred with him shoving bite after bite into his mouth, and talking with a wide open mouth of half-chewed food; Ick.
EBM: ‘Finally, I’m starving, we’ve been waiting ages! Service is horrible here.’
Me: Dumbfounded, ‘Um, that’s not yours…’
EBM: ‘It’s fine. The kitchen can make a new one, I’ve been waiting forever. Bring the rest of my food now.’
Me: ‘Sir, that’s my food. You just stole my food.’
EBM: ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S YOURS? YOU’VE BEEN TAKING A LUNCH BREAK WHEN WE’RE WAITING ON OUR FOOD? I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER, NOW!’
Me: ‘Sir, I don’t work here. I’m a customer, trying to enjoy my lunch, which is made a lot harder considering it’s now stuck in your fat gob.’
At this point, the yelling sort of turned incoherent, and an employee turned up, replaced my lunch (plus some free potato wedges for the trouble) and told the EBM that he would be paying for the extra burger before kicking him out.”
She Was Just Minding Her Own Business When The Entitled Woman Demanded Her Table
“I work as a manager at a fast food restaurant. On this particular day, I had an open shift (4:30am-2pm) and after finishing, I decided I’d pop into the local shopping center to pick up a couple of things I need and also grab a bite to eat. After my shift, I changed out of my shirt into a plain t-shirt and wore a hoodie over it. Essentially, I was wearing black, nondescript pants and a blue hoodie. I finished my shopping and decided to head down to the food court to grab a bite to eat. Burger in hand, I sat down at a table and popped my headphones in to listen to some music while I browsed my phone and ate my lunch.
All of a sudden, someone slammed their hand on my table right in front of me. I looked up and there’s a middle aged woman looking at me with a severely ticked off expression. Let’s call her Entitled Witch (EW), because that’s exactly what she was.
EW: ‘Excuse me, I said I need that table.’
Me: ‘Uh, sorry?’
EW: ‘That table, I need it, get up.’
At this point, I was entirely confused and getting quite ticked at this person interrupting my burger time.
Me: ‘Look ma’am, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but as you can see, I’m using this table right now.’
EW: (In a mocking tone) ‘Mall employees have to give up their seats to paying customers.’
First off, there is absolutely no such rule stating that shopping center employees have to give up their seats. Secondly, this is a food court; as a shopping center employee, I could’ve been working at any number of stores. Lastly, I in no way looked like I worked at any of the stores here (I was for all intents and purposes wearing casual clothes) and I had a bunch of shopping bags at my feet.
Me: ‘Get lost, lady, I don’t even work here.’
EW: ‘HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME THAT WAY. I NEED THIS TABLE, WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER?’
At this, I actually burst into laughter at the comical nature of everything. I thought I was being pranked by some friends or something for a second.
Me: (still laughing) ‘I’m not getting up for you and I’m not talking to you anymore. Go find somewhere else to sit.’
EW: ‘TELL ME WHERE YOU WORK NOW! WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER.’
At this point, I put my headphones back in and continued to laugh at her while she had this temper tantrum in the middle of the food court and people stared. When she noticed she wasn’t going to get anywhere, she stormed off in a huff. Her teenage daughter, who was with her, looked absolutely mortified throughout the whole encounter.
I mean, honestly, what did she think was going happen? The whole situation was just so bizarre it was almost surreal. Even if I did work at a store in the shopping center, I wouldn’t have given up my seat for someone asking so rudely. The fact that she had to ask where I worked should’ve been a red flag that I didn’t work there.”
She Didn’t Mean To Hurt Her, But That Lady Had It Coming
“As a grown woman, I am shy, anxious, hate confrontation and try my best to avoid eye contact. I have also always had the habit of flailing and trying to escape when someone touches me unexpectedly. I’ve accidentally hit many people in the past, mostly family members and a couple of friends. They’ve all been cool about it, especially because I always apologize and they have usually been warned beforehand. I’m not very strong either, so my panicky, limp-wristed flailing doesn’t usually hurt when it connects.
With that said, at twelve, I was far worse. One day, my mother had injured herself at work and, while she could drive, she had trouble walking. So, after school, I was sent into the grocery store for the essentials while she waited in the car. It was my first time shopping alone. I was nervous and just trying to grab the stuff and get out of there.
It’s been a while, but I know I was wearing a t-shirt, probably with snoopy or tweety bird on it, jean shorts and velcro shoes, because that was generally what I wore at that time. While I reached my full height of 5’9″ early, and was probably 5’5″ or so at this time, I was still very obviously a kid.
On the way to the milk, I ducked down an aisle to avoid a group coming my way and noticed a display of old fashioned cream soda, sold in the individual bottles. I’d been given permission to get something for myself and I loved these sodas, but they were hard to find, so I was definitely getting some.
As I was loading up my basket, I heard someone behind me clear their throat. Thinking I was blocking the path, I did not look back at them and just moved closer to the shelf. Then, I heard an aggressive sounding, ‘Excuse me!’ So, I stepped to the side, thinking I was blocking what this person wanted, and reached up high for one more soda on the top shelf.
That’s when I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, gripping tightly as long nails dug in hard. The woman yanked me around while yelling something to the effect of, ‘Get me (insert item here) NOW, you lazy, worthless little —-!’ That’s when I let out a terrified yelp, stumbled back and flailed at her, with my left hand, the hand that was holding the heavy glass bottle of soda. I can still remember the dull clank it made as it collided with that woman’s head.
She let me go.
I don’t know what her response was, because I dropped the shopping basket and ran away, crying hysterically (not my proudest moment). I ran out, jumped in the car and begged my mother to, ‘Just go.’ She did. I think she assumed I’d had a panic attack or something, but thankfully, she didn’t question it at the time. I didn’t manage to calm down enough to tell her what happened until we got home. She checked my shoulder and found that the woman’s fingernails had actually cut through my shirt and torn into my skin. It was surprisingly painful.
I don’t know if the woman complained about the ‘crazy employee’ who attacked her, but I do know that the next time my mother went shopping, she came home with lots of coupons (she was a regular, most employees recognized the chatty, friendly lady and her very quiet daughter who hid behind her). I assume one of the actual employees noticed me run out crying.
I have since learned to control my more wild flailing, instead just putting a hand up between me and the other person while cringing away, but, even though I thought I was to blame at the time, I now think this lady deserved what she got. If you lay your hands on someone hard enough to draw blood, you deserve to get cracked in the cranium with cream soda.”
She Thought It Was Totally Unprofessional For Him To Eat With The “Actual Customers”
“I work at a chain restaurant in Southern Minnesota. I live half an hour away from the restaurant so sometimes when I am scheduled for a double, I kill time in town between shifts instead of driving all the way home. There aren’t many places to hang out, so I often end up eating very slowly at a McDonald’s down the road while staring wistfully out the window evaluating my life.
The uniform I wear at the restaurant (all black) is similar to the uniform McDonald’s employees wear, minus the red collar and golden ‘M’ on the chest. Today, I was enjoying some chicken nuggets when I noticed an older woman glaring at me a couple booths away. I thought it was weird but went about my business eating. Suddenly, she approached me and sneered with disdain, ‘They let YOU eat out here with actual customers?’
At first, I had no idea what she was talking about so I just sort of stared at her in shock. Then she added, ‘Why don’t YOU go eat in the back?’ Finally, it dawned on me that she thought I worked at McDonald’s, so I said with an awkward laugh that I actually work at the restaurant down the street, and sort of gestured in the direction of the restaurant. I thought the matter was settled, but I was very wrong. ‘Well, you still shouldn’t be eating out here then! It’s unprofessional!’ she practically spat at me and stalked off.
I just sat there in silence and am still sort of in shock about it. I mean, what was that?!”
No, That Stack Of Water Wasn’t Good Enough, She Had To Have HIS Water
“I work for a company that supplies bottled water to its employees and I’m the one in charge of picking it up. I went into our local Costco to pick up maybe 15-20 cases. I was wearing a black shirt, so I didn’t think I looked like any employee there.
So I was standing next to the pallet of bottled water and I’d just finished putting the last case of water in my cart and started pulling away at a good pace. My cart was heavy and I didn’t want to stop. Out of nowhere, this lady (late 20s early 30s) called out, ‘Hold on, I just need it!’ I looked at her kinda funny as I kept pulling my cart away from the bottled water towards the checkout. I didn’t get it at first that she thought I was restocking the shelves or something. So she started actually running after me, almost getting this angry tone in her voice. By now, she was about 40 feet from the pallet of water that I got my water from. Maybe she thought I had the freshest water?
So she finally got close to my cart and was about to grab a case of water out of my cart when I figured it out SHE THOUGHT I WORKED HERE. I said, ‘Ma’am, I don’t work here,’ and she looked at my company shirt, her face turning as red as a cherry tomato. She literally chased me 3-4 aisles, trying to get a case of water, even though SHE HAD PARKED HER CART RIGHT NEXT TO A PALLET FULL OF THEM. I just shook my head as I continue walking towards the check-out.”
She Screamed At Him From Her Car And Expected Him To Help
“It’s halfway through my 12-hour night shift. I’m on-site security at a 3-building secure facility. I was starting to crash, so I figure I’d walk over to the Mickey D’s across campus and get some cheap, disgusting food and a coffee.
As I’m walking up to the building, a minivan exits the drive thru and just sits there for a second. My hand is reaching to open the door when she starts yelling at me.
Angry Lady: ‘HEY! YOU ALL FORGOT MY NUGGETS!’
I stop because she’s obviously addressing me. I look over and she’s shaking her brown food bag at me out her window.
AL: ‘YOU ALL FORGOT MY NUGGETS. I’M NOT WAITING IN LINE, YOU NEED TO BRING THEM OUT TO ME PLEASE.’
Mind you, I’m wearing a gray security officer uniform complete with prominently displayed badge and logo. I was utterly confused how a sane person could make that mistake.
Me: ‘Uhh…sorry, miss, I can’t help you with that. You’ll have to park and go in, or get in line again.’
I go ahead and go inside; she’s still yelling something, but I’m focused on what I want to order. Half of me hopes I get to witness some sort of altercation.
My wish came true, because not 30 seconds later, in comes the lady, probably 50ish, white with thinning hair, overweight; you get the picture. She walks up to me and says:
AL: ‘I need your name, badge number, and number of your manager. You don’t just walk away from me when I’m talking to you.’
Me: ‘…I’m a security officer. I work across campus. You’ll probably need to bring your receipt up to the counter.’
AL: ‘If you don’t work here, why are you telling me what to do? It doesn’t change the fact you were rude to me. Give me your info, please.’
Me: ‘I don’t have to provide that to you. I’m here to get food, just like you.’
By this point, the line queue had cleared and the employees noticed the altercation. They asked the lady if they could help her, and she told them how I ignored her and she needed my info to file a complaint, and for her nuggets and number for corporate.
One particular employee, who was familiar with me said, ‘He doesn’t work here, lady!’
It absolutely made my day. They called the manager over and they went off in the corner to argue. I got my food, and they gave me the coffee for free.”
Even If She DID Work There, Snapping At Her Was Totally Uncool
“This happened several months ago, but it’s still fresh on my mind as one of the most insidiously satisfying mistaken-employee experiences I’ve had.
I was at a cozy, busy little restaurant with my family, eating a delicious meal and enjoying the evening. A mother, father and their 3-year-old son came and occupied the table directly behind us, about 3 feet of space between our backs. As a previous waitress, I was preparing for screeching, clattering, and flying food, but the little buddy just sat nicely and examined the tablecloth and napkins.
The hostess came by and dropped off waters for them to sip on while their server made her way over. After everything was all settled around their table, I got up to slink by to the washroom.
As I passed their table, I heard a snapping and caught a glimpse of the dad raising his hand at me out of the corner of my eye. I was dressed in a white crop top and a high rise skirt, not exactly unserver-like, but certainly not uniform. Even if I had been working there, snapping is an easy way to get ignored. So I walked past and headed to the washroom without much thought to it, preferring to imagine that maybe he was telling a story to his wife.
I came back through about a minute later and had to pass by their table again. The dad straightened up, glared at me and snapped, ‘Can he get a soda?’ gesturing at his kid. I was caught off guard.
‘I … don’t work here.’ I wish I could’ve been more witty and forceful, but I didn’t have to be. His wife dropped her head, shook it until I sat down, and then laid into him with quiet composure, but loud enough that I could get the gist of what she was saying.
‘Are you serious? You’re going to set that kind of example for Jimmy Jr., being a jerk for no reason at all? We’ve been here for three minutes, just relax for a minute and enjoy time with your family. Snapping your fingers at people, geez, who does that?’
‘I thought she worked here…’ the dad tried to argue, but he’s shamed now. They proceed to be lovely guests to their actual server who made it over a minute later.
Someday, I hope to be able to deliver some real ‘I don’t work here’ sass, but it felt better to be the spectator of the reprimand than the deliverer in this instance.”
The Former Trophy Wife Met Her Match That Day
“I am a late riser. I like to wake up at 11 am or later, but I’m also an avid fisherman. Sometimes these two things clash, like a couple days ago. I was getting our supplies for lunch and that took me to the local supermarket chain in a minuscule town 50 miles from home. It was only 7 am and we’d decided to shop while we got another member in my party got his fishing license.
I was stalking around the aisles like a zombie, sipping my coffee and praying for my headache to go away. I was wearing black athletic pants, black water shoes, and a raggedy camo long sleeve shirt, my hair was everywhere and I had one heck of a five o’clock shadow going on.
Despite my appearance, my foul mood, and my headache, I was still trying to be pleasant with everyone. Cause hey, everyone deserves a smile, right? But apparently willingly interacting with someone you don’t know automatically means you’re an employee. Allow me to introduce Former Trophy Wife. FTW seemed like one of those women who went to church every Sunday just so she can gossip after the service. I’m also willing to bet she has ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ in at least four places in her home. She also appeared to have has at least four touch-ups to her face/chest/stomach.
FTW: ‘Hey you!’
FTW: ‘Find me these!’ She shoved her shopping list at me.
Then I kinda realized what’s going on.
Me: ‘No. Find an employee.’
FTW: ‘You are an employee.’ She said it slow like I was an idiot.
Me: (irritated, I’ve got only a limited amount of time) ‘Ma’am, kindly get lost somewhere over there.’ I gestured to the side of the store I wasn’t going to and began walking off.
FTW: Shoving her cart in front of me, ‘EXCUSE ME!? WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME!? WHERE IS YOUR-‘
I lifted a hand to cut her off, which worked surprisingly well.
Me: ‘I said Get. Lost. Over. There. It’s too early to deal with you or anyone else’s bull. I’m on a schedule and I won’t have you throwing it off, so do us both a favor and GET. LOST. OVER. THERE.’
FTW: (Gaping at me) ‘I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW MY HUSBAND IS-‘
Me: ‘I don’t give a crap who your husband is in this backwater, ratty town. He can get off with you. And tell him if he’s gonna pay for plastic surgery, to pay the big bucks cause you’re one saggy, old witch.’
I then shoved her cart out of the way and finished my shopping. But nay, twas not the end of her.
I was at the cash register handing my money to the cashier when I hear this ghoulish, harpy shriek.
FTW: ‘THERE HE IS!’
I rolled my eyes and turned to see her strutting triumphantly towards me with a manager following.
FTW: ‘I WANT HIM FIRED!’
My poor cashier almost fainted, thinking somehow he had done something wrong, but the manager recognized that it was I the harpy shrieketh for.
Manager: ‘He doesn’t work here.’
She whirled on him like a gorgon seeking its next target.
FTW: ‘HOW DARE YOU DEFEND HIM!!’
Me: [on the phone] ‘Uh, yes I’m at [local grocery chain] in [backwater town]. There’s a woman here who is causing quite the ruckus and I’m worried she may become violent…’
Her face went white and she fell to the floor, sobbing and wailing incoherently. Watching a police officer arrive, begin to walk her out, and eventually have to bring her to the ground when she began to try to run away made the 45 minutes of fishing I missed so very worth it.”
Even When Someone Else Intervened, She Still Kept Up The Attitude
“I was out and about in my normal jeans/t-shirt and stopped in a store to pick up random stuff. Employees at this store wear khakis and a black polo with the store’s yellow logo on it. As I was shopping, I overheard a bit of commotion and snuck closer to listen.
Loud Lady (LL): ‘HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT? I’LL HAVE YOUR JOB FOR THIS! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!’
Unsuspecting Victim (UV): ‘Ok. Well, yeah, whatever lady. I don’t know or care who you are, I just want my ice cream.’
Internally, I was laughing my butt off. Externally, I’m low-key following this crazy back to the frozen section as they continue the back and forth.
LL: ‘This isn’t anywhere NEAR the baking section! Where are you taking me? Why is this taking so long?!’
UV: ‘BECAUSE I’M GETTING MY ICE CREAM! I DON’T WORK HERE, I’M NOT GOING TO HELP YOU, SHOVE OFF LADY!’
LL: ‘I DEMAND TO SEE YOUR MANAGER THIS INSTANT!’ Followed by incoherent angry noises.
UV: ‘Guess you’re out of luck since he doesn’t care if I don’t help grumpy ladies in places I DOOOONT WOOOORK AAAAT.’
LL’s rant after that was mainly a rehash of what she had yelled before. I got a glimpse of the poor guy’s face, dude was looking at ice cream like it was a weapon to shoot himself with. Also noticed he had khakis on, but his shirt was obviously blue and had a different logo.
Me: ‘Uh, ma’am, he really doesn’t work here. Look at his shirt, it’s blue and that’s not this stores logo at all.’ She looked but didn’t seem to register anything.
LL: ‘Oh, so you have your FRIEND come and lie to me too, huh? THAT’S why you were on your phone, and at work none the less!’
UV: ‘No was just debating if I should call the cops.’
Thankfully an employee ran up and apologized profusely. Apparently, another employee had a heart attack and they were all a little sidetracked. Luckily, this meant the police were already there and escorted her out when she also refused to believe the actual employee. Cops knew her, basically said she’s not legally crazy, just a jerk.
Both me and the dude got crazy discounts, mine was 50% and all his stuff was free. Dude finally got his ice cream.”
She Looked Kind Of Like The Staff, Except She Was Heavily Pregnant
“It was at my husband’s work Christmas party. The party was at an event/conference center that supplied their own staff to serve food, drinks and set up the tables and chairs. The staff wore all black, and the females all had their hair pulled back. This is important, as I was wearing a black dress and heels, with my hair in a bun. I was also approximately 8 months pregnant at the time.
We had arrived about an hour early as my husband had been volunteered to help set up the sound system, so I was wandering around, trying to make myself useful until the party started. I located the restroom since I knew I would need it two or three times throughout the evening (baby bouncing on my bladder).
When I came back from the bathroom, I noticed a few more people had trickled in, including my husband’s boss who I had never formally met. Everyone was busy running around, trying to get everything set up, including the boss. I decided to sit at our table since heels + pregnancy were not combining well for me and I knew it was going to be a long evening. Maybe two minutes after I sat down, the boss walked past my table. I started to stand up because I thought it might be a good time to quickly introduce myself. I will be ‘M’ and boss will be ‘B.’
B: ‘No, sit down, wouldn’t want to bother you!’ He said this fairly sarcastically.
He was gone before I could respond, so I settled back into my chair, thinking he was just stressed about the party or was trying to be polite since I was so grossly pregnant? Who knows. A few seconds later, he came back
B: ‘Guess someone needed a break? Feeling a little tired tonight, huh? Could you at least tell me where the bathroom is?’
M: ‘Oh um, yes, of course! It’s right down the hall on the left.’ Internally, I was thinking I couldn’t be rude to the boss, but seriously dude?
And he’s gone again. My husband returned to the table at this point and we were just chatting as more people filtered in and came to say hi. I didn’t think much about the interaction I’d just had as I, again, figured the boss had other stuff going on, it never crossed my mind that he thought I worked there.
A few minutes later, my husband had his arm around me as the boss came back to the room. I saw the light bulb turn on in his head as he came over and introduced himself. He apologized profusely and told the whole table that he thought I was working the party since I was dressed like the staff, drew a few laughs from everyone and all was well. He gifted us a few bottles of a nice red for after the baby arrived, so I guess it could have gone a lot worse!”