Oh, maybe I do… :smack:
Eons ago I was managing the concessions for a movie theater and had to dash off to the local grocery store to get some cleaning supplies that the general manager forgot to order. As I was striding along the chips & soda aisle, an old man turned to me and asked, “Can you help me find the Mountain Dew?”
“Oh,” I responded and pointed to the other end of the aisle, “That’s a Pepsi product.”
“How about Sprite?” asked a woman behind me.
“Coca-Cola makes that.” I pointed a few steps away at the shelf section full of cans and bottles.
“Oh, thank you!” she smiled. Before pushing her cart closer to the Sprite, she asked, “How about chickpeas?”
“You mean garbanzo beans?” I asked and received a nod, “I’d expect them to be either in canned foods,” I motioned over the wall-o-soda and then motioned even further, “or by the dry bags of beans and rice.” As another person joined the crowd, I added, “Or both – but I don’t work here, so I’m not sure.”
“You don’t work here?” the three shoppers asked incredulously.
“Nope.” I shook my head and started walking away, “I’m just trying to find steel scouring pads.”
After getting the cleaning supplies, I headed over to the hardware store to grab some plywood and studs to make a cheap ramp.
While I was picking out deck screws, a lady approached and said, “Excuse me. I need a big sheet of plywood cut in half.”
“Oh.” I said with a nod and led her around the corner and down the sheet-wood aisle to the end. We stopped at a panel-cutter and I pointed to it before noting, “I’ll send someone over.”
“You can’t do it?” she asked.
“I don’t even work here!” I told her as I wandered off in search of an employee. I found someone wearing a T-shirt with the store’s logo and told him, “There’s a lady who needs help at the panel cutter.”
As I headed back to study screws I wondered why everyone was asking me for help. Then I realized I was wearing my work clothes: black pants, belt, and shoes, a long-sleeved white shirt with a black bow-tie, and a full black vest. We at the theater hated the uniforms and called them penguin suits, but they apparently made us look like manager-types when we were away from the theater.
Anyone else get mistaken for an authority-type? What kinds of weird requests have you fielded in spite of the mistake?
*We needed to roll a quad racer (a recreational vehicle we had sitting outside the theater for use as a promo for one of the movies) into the back of my truck so I could drop it off at the motorcycle dealer’s lot.