Inspired by Welgar's post below
I was in town one lunchtime, and wandered into W.H. Smiths to get a copy of New Scientist.

As I was walking through the book section, a middle-aged woman with a face like a slapped arse prodded me on the arm and barked
"You! Where are the travel guides?"

I shrugged and said "I don't know", before walking away.

A couple of seconds later I felt her hand on my shoulder, shaking me, while she screeched
"How dare you turn your back on me!"

Now, I'm really not a fan of misc-stranger-type-people touching me, or screaming, so I span around and said
"Don't touch me. Fuck off."

She went red, then purple, then white.

Then the real screaming began.

"I'M GOING STRAIGHT TO YOUR MANAGER. HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU'RE A DISGRACE, WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO TALK TO A PAYING CUSTOMER LIKE THAT?"

I got confused at this point. Manager? What the fuck?
I was wearing my normal work clothes, which consisted of a leather jacket, t shirt, army boots and black jeans.
The staff in Smiths wear a horrible blue-ish/purple-ish shirt.
No similarity at all.

I shook my head and wandered off, while she marched over to the till and started ranting, pointing and screaming at the member of staff there.

I grabbed the magazine I wanted and walked up to the till next to her.

The guy she was ranting to looked at me over her shoulder and raised his eyebrows.
I met his gaze and shrugged, then pointed at the magazine.

"Excuse me madam, I need to serve this gentleman."
*Bleep*
"Three pounds fifteen please"

The woman stared at me, slack-jawed, as I paid for the magazine, smiled sweetly at her and walked out of the door.

The last thing I heard was her screaming "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME HE DOESN'T WORK HERE?"

*shakes head slowly from side to side*
( Cawl, Wed 10 Sep 2008, 11:11, 2 replies)

She's clearly an imbecile

And wouldn't have deserved a civilised response, even had you been working there.
( Moey, Wed 10 Sep 2008, 11:41, closed)

I get this all the time
I'm an EFL/ESL teacher, and do a lot of my classes in companies, meaning I wear shirt and smart trousers. Cause I work weird hours, I go round the shops - a lot. At least 15 times a day people ask me where things are. Sometimes, I am extra nice and help them, sometimes I say I don't work there. A few times you get a cunty response, which is great when I can call them a cunt and so on, and they don't understand me.
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Wed 10 Sep 2008, 12:02, closed)