It's definitely few and far between, because aside from a few crustys not knowing how to properly form a line or wait while I'm on the phone with a customer asking about products or calling back to talk about the products they sampled, it's pretty decent. My hand to God, I have never run into a hellaciously bad customer working in cosmetics.
The co-workers, however, are a whole 'nother story.
With my store being as small as it is, 'promotions' are so common you can hardly call them that. It's more job duties for the same amount of money, and in our store, we have a whole bunch of Cash Supervisors to cash people out at the end of the night.
We have one guy in particular I absolutely loathe. The only person in the entire store, in fact, that I cannot stand to be around. Dude just makes me want to take a nail file and hope that if I stab myself far enough in the eye it'll hit my brain and kill me, and trust me, I'm not the only one.
Management hates him so much (I'm going to call him Dipshit, for short) that they schedule him once a week, if that, and when they do, it's always for 6-hour closing shifts, hoping that he'll quit and they wont have to deal with the awkward business of firing him, because the Store Manager just straight up hates firing people. It's weird, I know, but I'd rather have a manager who hates firing people, rather than one that goes trigger-happy over it.
Anyway, I happened to be closing in cosmetics one of the nights that Dipshit is working. Around 11:30pm, it comes time for me to write in the cosmetics communications binder everything I did that night (which displays were cleaned, what got faced, tagged, etc.), and while I'm doing this, Dipshit is wandering around the stores, not even bothering to stay near the registers, essentially making the exit one screaming neon sign for shoplifters, but I digress.
He wanders over to my department, makes a few dramatic sighs and looks at the time, makes a half-assed attempt at conversation (I think) by saying there's only half an hour left, and it's so boring working midnights, followed by more heavy, almost pity-seeking sighing.
I am having none of that. I used to work 35 hours a week at my old job, and every single one of my shifts were until midnight, and then had to take the bus home after that. I have no sympathy for a kid who gets one midnight shift a week, lives a block from the store but still gets picked up by his parents. I'm sorry, but I don't. Even when I'm rolling my eyes on the inside, I decide that I don't care enough to start some stupid workplace feud, and agree, but say something along the lines of "Yeah, you get used to it, though. It's not as bad as it could be."
I thought my reply was pretty tame. Nice, even.
What does Dipshit respond back with?
"Yeah, must be nice to get paid to sit around and look pretty," and then wandered away.
Excuse me? Yeah, I think I look pretty fucking flawless too, but that's because I'm getting paid to show customers what they can achieve with makeup, and let's not forget all the knowledge that comes with the job. Does this punk know what Retinol is? What Hyaluronic Acid is, and what they both do? Does he know what products are organic, which ones are vegan, which ones are cruelty free? Does this fucking Dipshit know what foundation works best for what skin types?
I was so furious I couldn't even talk, and was still fuming about it the next day when I mentioned it to one of the other cosmeticians. She was so angry I thought she might break the display case from slamming her hands on it so hard.
I don't think I should be so mean to him, though. After all, it must be so hard getting paid to sit around and put coins on a scale that counts them for you.