Imagine working retail over the holiday season. How would you respond if a crazy customer started yelling at you for no good reason?

In this story, one woman finds herself in this exact situation, and she decides to try acting just as crazy as the customer to make a point. Then she really puts the customer in her place.

It’s pretty hilarious!

Keep reading for all the details.

Of Refills, Christmas, and my Last Ten Minutes.

I am a student of the arts and hospitality, currently residing in the Western side of the world. I used to live in the East – this happened when I was working in a Japanese department store in a certain South-East Asian nation.

As a grand social experiment of sorts, I decided to take on a minimum wage retail job selling essence oils and assorted peripherals to customers over the two weeks leading up to, and over the Christmas of 2011.

The employer did not manage to get anyone to respond to her ad, and I was the only one who wrote in for it, so I was accepted immediately.

This doesn’t seem fair.

I did not get overtime/ special/ any sort of additional pay from my employer for working the holiday season, and she also told me on day 1 that I would get 0.01% commission for selling these overpriced bottles of oil.

Not 1%. 0.01%.

The girl selling towels across my booth got 6% for her efforts, but I digress.

It really was an experiment to get an answer to a question.

Call me naive, but I’ve always wanted to know how those people standing behind the counter felt like on Christmas day. I once saw a street santa giving out fliers on Christmas Eve, and no one took any!

Since then, this had always been on my mind.

Having little else to do as it was the holidays, I decided to sign up, and it was overall rather enjoyable… until the last ten minutes of the last day.

Up until this point, I had a generally positive experience. The sales floor had its own politics and quirks – as the sales staff only seemed to see student part-timers: someone my age (I was 25 then), and who was actually coherent/ responsible, was a bit of an oddity.

Here’s how the job went…

Every day yielded some interesting customers (couple would speak to me, kiss, and speak to me again) and activities, from arranging boxes to form a makeshift throne in the storage room (that I’d sit on during break) to getting “membership” discount from retailers who seemed to enjoy standing around chatting to us more than actually replacing the products they came to deliver; to recommending oils to crazy cat ladies (Do you think my cat will like Lemongrass?).

Hell, I’ve done a bit of everything.

On my final day, I was ready to head off and be done with this experience forever, and perhaps buy myself a little something with my hard-earned, minimum-wage paycheck.

Little did I know that I would be in for a great send-off.

She saw something odd, and that’s saying a lot.

Having packed up my display close to 10:05 PM odd (The shopping center closes at 11 that night, my employer said I could just go at 10PM after packing up the booth), I was ready to go around and shake the hands of all the staff who have been great to me across these few weeks, when out of nowhere this strangely-dressed woman, with her two equally strangely-dressed kids, show up at my counter.

For the record, I’ve seen quite a bit up until now. Old ladies with mismatched shoes, a local television drag queen celebrity, and even parents placing a printer in the stroller while the kid chases them like a waddling penguin(knocking over things in the process).

However, this group took the cake.

They weren’t exactly stylish.

To begin with, the woman had, for some reason, decided to dye her hair bright purple. A haphazardly placed white bolt (probably also dyed) ran down her frazzled fringe, and her rather large daughter took after that fashion sense as well.

Her son, who looked the most normal of the lot, seemed more interested in grabbing the display bottles I had just packed up, violently shaking the bottles to entertain himself. Luckily for all parties involved essence oils are not fizzy drinks, and so nothing too terrible happened.

I was, and still am at a loss with regards to their dress sense – it was mismatched at best and horrible at worst.

A smattering of branded goods adorned their being – it didn’t take too much talent to buy expensive clothing and furs, but it did take a special skill to look like a factory outlet clearance mannequin. This woman – and by extension her entire family, had this in dollops.

She tried to be friendly.

Naturally, being my last customer for the night, I put on my customer-greeting-smile (which was honestly not hard to do, as most of the populace had been really pleasant this entire time), and cheerfully asked if I could help her.

She ignored me.

Thinking that she was hard of hearing, I re-positioned myself and cheerfully asked if she needed anything.

Giving me a disgusted look, she then proceeded to wave me aside nonchalantly while speaking to her daughter about some of the products I had on my shelf.

They seem to be shopping for a gift.

Woman: “Do you think she would like candles?”

Daughter: “I dunno. They don’t look edible. She has to be able to eat them.”

Woman: “Do you think we can put two of these in the suitcase?”

Daughter: “Maybe. Maybe they’ll melt. Then the suitcase will catch fire.”

The customer finally wanted help.

Unable to understand what I had just witnessed, and somewhat tired from standing for 8 hours without rest today, I thought I’d just stand around and wait for them to leave. After all, it was the last ten minutes of my last day. I had long since given up trying to understand customer banter – it was a lot easier to dismiss it as an ancient, archaic language.

Out of nowhere, the woman suddenly demands my attention by complaining loudly about the lack of service – despite having waved me away twice in the past three minutes.

Undaunted, I skip to her side and ask what she would like help with.

The customer seemed unable to finish her question.

“So this bottle…”

She picks up one of the most expensive oils on the counter – one of those was a hundred and a half.

“Does it come with… Re… Re… Re…”

I had no idea why she was repeatedly pausing and making an odd sound.

Perhaps she could not find the words.

Perhaps she was doing a Hamlet impression, and that bottle of Hyacinth extract was a skull.

At that particular point in time, the exact reason escaped me.

She figured out what the customer was trying to ask.

And then, it clicked. This question had been asked of me too many times in my short stint as an oils salesgirl, so…

“I’m sorry Ma’am, our premium range does not come with refills, if you would like I could-“

At this point the customer goes LIVID. She slams the oil canister down on the counter, attracting the attention of some of the department store’s perm staff.

“This is why I Hate . I just came back from a business trip, you know that? A business trip to JAPAN.”

She pauses for effect.

I blink.

The customer wasn’t upset about the lack of refills.

“In Japan they will WAIT for you to say something instead of SHOVING words in your face. Is this what the system teaches you? Do you know how rude you are being?”

Recovering from my initial shock in a grand total of five seconds, I apologize and inform the customer that I merely wished to help.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I-”

“You didn’t even wait for me to finish! You think you’re better than me, girl? You think you’re smarter than I am? THIS IS HORRIBLE SERVICE!”

She tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I just wanted to answer your-“

“And HOW did you know what I wanted to ask? Are you reading my mind?”

Interestingly, I actually was a person that angered rather quickly in my younger days. As I grew older I suppose that part of me just fizzled out and died, and now I am left standing in front of my counter with a purple-haired woman dressed from head to toe in brand name goods yelling at me as her daughter talks about edible candles and her son shakes one of my display products.

If anything, I was very puzzled.

The woman kept complaining.

“Again, I apologize Ma’am. It is a common question, and so-“

“And so WHAT? You can’t tell me what to ask! You DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO ASK! THEY DIDN’T DO THIS IN THE STORE IN JAPAN!” (This was a Japanese department store)

At this point the woman just stopped, and started pacing around the counter while lecturing me on the finer points of Japanese service while ranting in what she thought was Japanese.

Sad thing is, I am a native Japanese speaker.

She really needed to leave.

I looked at my watch.

The time now was 10:07 PM.

My family was having their Christmas dinner in a sky restaurant across the street, and I was already an hour late.

“I am very sorry for the inconvenience, Ma’am. I regret what I have said.”

“I didn’t come to to be TREATED LIKE THIS! I should just GO BACK and SHOP IN JAPAN!”

Here’s some context about her job and the dress code.

A little bit of context at this juncture: Japanese department store perm-staff aways wear uniforms, and this particular store’s uniform had a scarf to go with it, too.

I was a retail associate for my employer, who owned a booth/counter/space at the store, and as such I wore black pants and a collared black shirt. The usual boring stuff – IE, I was NOT a “Japanese Department Store Employee”.

Just for the record, I have a vehement hatred for weeaboos – I’m familiar with Japanese society and its quirks.

This person was now making me do obligatory overtime – getting shouted at wasn’t really part of my jobscope, at least, not in the last ten dwindling minutes of my short contract.

That’s when things took a turn.

Thus, in accordance with the holiday spirit and my increasing annoyance with this person, I decided to mess with her in a particularly creative way.

Taking a step backwards, I bow and start speaking in Japanese very quickly, telling her how sorry I am and informing her of the closing times of the store.

Of course, the woman had no idea what I was going on about, and was momentarily stunned.

“Oh, Ai berri sorry, Ai no spikku Engrish! Only know simprre thing! Makotoni MOUSHIWAKENAI! DESWA!”

This was followed by a series of over exaggerations and a few very loud “AAHH SOUDESNE! (s)”, all the while performing a very horrid “Engrish” accent.

She was basically doing an impersonation.

Some of the perm staff have heard me do Jackie Chan impressions before, so they quickly caught on as to what I was doing – no one came foward to stop me.

Some watched in a bemused manner – even the very strict, elderly supervisor simply adjusted her glasses and pretended to be checking stock.

“What-“

“AHH HAI SOUDESU! OIRRU BERRI GUDDO! KYANDORU TABERU! OIISHII! DELICIOUS CANDLE! JYAPANN BERI GUUDO!”

“Now you liste-“

“HAI YOKU KIKEMASITA! OKYAKUSAN KAMISAMA! ATAI GA WARUKATTA. SUMIMASEN.”

It gets even funnier!

This went on for about two minutes as I wore an increasingly crazed expression on my face. I am tall by asian standards, so now Purple-Haired Brand-Goods woman had a potentially insane sales associate ranting at her in Japanese while smiling like the joker.

As today was my last day, I had set my phone to go off at 10:10 PM with a little celebratory tone, and as if on cue, the damned thing did.

Muffled and soft, but go off it did. And that was when I knew it was now or never.

Now, Japanese department stores have a little jingle/song that they like to play from time to time. I decided to end this by singing, very loudly, the department store’s jingle.

She seemed to have snapped.

At this point everyone fell silent – the other staff members thought I had snapped, and the woman/ her children were raptured by my macabre performance. Fortunately there were no other customers around in our section to bear witness to this madness.

As soon as the jingle finished, I whipped off my ribbon with a flourish, letting my long hair fall.

It was now 10:11 PM.

I let the smile fall off my face.

She completely changed her approach.

“Now listen here, Missus “I’m too smart to say “refill”.” I don’t bloody work here. Not ANYMORE AS OF THE LAST MINUTE.”

I took a step towards her, holding my bag of hastily-retrieved belongings menacingly in my other hand – as menacingly as a stuffed bag with an illustrated cat on it could get, anyway.

“I don’t care what you think or say. This is a great store, and yes, it’s a Japanese store. But let me help you understand this.”

I raised my fist, and at this point some of the perm staff started to approach me, so I needed to end this quickly.

She set the record straight.

“ONE. WE SPEAK ENGLISH HERE. That nonsense? NOT ENGLISH.”

I raised a finger.

“TWO. Your Japanese is a JOKE. Please stop being stupid.”

I raised another finger.

“THREE. I offered you service at least THREE. FREAKING. TIMES. You weren’t interested.”

I raised yet another finger.

“FOUR. Your son has been playing with my display bottle for the entire time now. Yet you dare lecture me on manners? REALLY, now?”

The customer seemed speechless.

Having run out of fingers to raise, I promptly proceeded to flip her off.

“Listen lady. I stopped working TEN minutes ago-“

I snatch the bottle out of her son’s hands, and throw it in the counter drawer. It falls into place with a satisfying clunk.

“- so you can find service elsewhere. If you like Japan so much, please go back. You won’t be missed.”

Leaving her standing there, flabbergasted, I went to the bunch of perm staff watching the commotion, then handed the elderly supervisor my name tag.

The supervisor seemed to understand.

“Sorry for the trouble, Big Sis (what we called the supervisor).”

She gave me half a smirk, half a shrug.

“… You part-timers are always trouble. Go home, Lynette. You’re late for dinner, yes?”

“I suppose I am! Thank you for everything.”

I bow to them, my back still turned to the fuming woman.

It didn’t end well for the customer, but OP didn’t receive any backlash.

The resulting commotion suggested that she continued ranting, and was now tossing products around.

Perhaps it was because I was a lot taller, or perhaps it was because I seemed borderline insane. For some reason she didn’t chase after me – I later learnt that she was escorted out by security.

A week later, when I returned to my employer’s office to collect my paycheck, I was informed that the department store staff informed her about the incident in great detail. She largely concluded that the customer was crazy, and proceeded to offer me a permanent position in her company if I was interested due to the bottles of oil I moved in my short time there.

She did not want to work there.

Naturally, I declined.

When asked why, and if I enjoyed selling fragrances, I paused for a while at her door, looked back, and said the following words:

“Yes, but only to cats and their humans.”

I don’t think she understood what I meant to this day.

That was certainly an interesting last customer to have to deal with!

Let’s see how Reddit responded to this story.

This person has a question and a laugh.

Someone who was recently in Japan weighs in.

Here’s some praise for the song.

Everyone liked the story.

At least that was the last customer and not the first customer!

If you liked this post, you might want to read this story about a teacher who taught the school’s administration a lesson after they made a sick kid take a final exam.