The Awesome Team Leader of this story gets a Retail Balls Award for taking immediate action with a horriblely abusive custy:
I've just found your site and to be honest I could have done with it about 6 years ago when I started working retail. I have a few stories to tell and thought I'd share. You can call me AngloSlave.
I started working at 16 for a large British electricals store with a name that begins with C and happens to be a type of Indian food. This was the third week of November so well into peak season when the custys were looking for gifts for friends and family.
Knowing that the store would be packed you'd think I'd have had some training. Nope. The training was along the lines of "Here's how to use the till, don't steal from us, off you go".
My first day I was working the camera department and as it was an older style store, all of our cameras were in large display cabinets that needed a key to open. We only had 3 keys on the shop floor and they opened every cabinet in the shop so there was some demand for them among us slaves.
Anyway a custy (who from now on will be referred to as Brickhouse - he was build like one made of shit) wanted to look at a digital SLR and I had the misfortune of serving him.
I explained that I would need to find a cabinet key so he could have a proper look and that I may be some time finding one because of the sheer number of customers in store. I went to the cash desk in the centre of the shop, put out a tannoy for a key and then noticed that only 2 of our 3 tills were manned with queues backing up towards the tvs at the back of the store. I went back to Brickhouse, explained that I was waiting for a key, which shouldn't take more than about 10 minutes, and that in the meantime to help get people out of the store I would be helping out on the cash desk.
He nodded, said he understood and I went off. Seemed like a nice bloke and I ran off to the till to power through some sales. FIVE MINUTES PASSED and Brickhouse comes marching over, vapid girlfriend in tow and starts screaming at me. The conversation went something like this:
Brickhouse: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU FUCKING THINK YOU'RE DOING?
Me: Sorry? Sir, there's no need to swear and as I explained we're very busy and instead of just hanging around waiting for a cabinet key it would be better if I could help get some of these people served with their small purchases so they can leave.
Me: Sir we don't get commission, we get a store based bonus if the store as a whole performs well.
Brickouse: DON'T LIE TO ME YOU FUCKING LITTLE CUNT!
At this point I was on the verge of tears. It was my FIRST DAY and I was 16. I'd only ever heard that word used by my grandmother, once, when she forgot I was in the car and someone nearly hit us.
Luckily my Awesome Team Leader (who was also a magician for kids' parties and now works for a major bank) was right behind me on another till and turned round.
Awesome Team Leader: Get out of my store, you do NOT speak to my staff like that.
Brickouse: YOU HAVE TO SERVE ME, YOU'RE OPEN AND I WANT MY CAMERA.
Awesome Team Leader: We are under no obligation to serve rude, arrogant arseholes such as your good self who abuse our staff. Leave before I call the police.
Brickhouse then left, muttering to his girlfriend something about "showing that queer little knobjockey not to mess with customers". This was a grown adult man calling me a 16 year old boy a "queer little knobjockey".
I got back to work on the till when a little old man buying a cheap MP3 player for his granddaughter came up to the till and said to me "You absolutely did the right thing." That made my day. ATL then let me go out back for a smoke and to calm down.
I survived three Christmasses there and boy do I have some fantastic stories to tell.
May your custys be good.