|
I used to me a manager at a local fast food joint and our "uniform" was a generic pair of black dress pants and a blue short sleeve shirt with the store logo printed over the pocket with tie.
I was in Wal-Mart after work on day shopping. This guy turns around to ask for help.
"Do you guys sell box fans here?"
"I think they do, but I'm not for sure."
"Well, do you at least know where they are?"
"I don't work here, but I think they're over there. I point in the general direction of housewares.
He goes off on a rant about how he "can't get no service" around here and procedes to tell me that "if you're going to work here at least familiarize yourself with the damn store blah blah blah."
I'm real polite (because I've yet to be disillusioned about people in general) and tell the guy firmly that I don't work at Wal-Mart; I have no idea if the fans are out; he should try to find someone in housewares which, by the way, is still over there. I point again.
He leaves in a huff and I think the incident is over. 10 minutes later the guy comes back with an important looking fellow in a tie and Wal-mart nametag. He's waving and pointing at me telling the Manager-man "There's the fellow, there's the guy that was rude and refused to help me."
The Manager-man recognizes that I'm not an employee gives a "what can you do" grin and explains to the old guy that I didn't, in fact, work there at all, but he'd lead him over to housewares and get him some assistance.
The old guy, now pissed off because he looks like a complete ass, grins sheepishly and starts grumbling under his breath about how it's my fault for wearing clothes like all the other kids that work there...yada yada yada and walks away waving his hands.
__________________
No signature. None. Seriously.
|