I was mistaken for an employee of a bookstore just the other day. I like to think it’s because I look well-read.
I don’t look like I work anywhere. I’m not covered in tattoos and piercings.
One time I was shopping in Big Lots, and at the time the employees were wearing black shirts (not sure if they still do); I was also wearing a similar?! black shirt. So, a hot MILF asked me where the stationary was. I happened to know, and said something like “I don’t work here, but I think it’s over there” (and pointed in that direction). She turned red out of embarrassment, and walked away. I didn’t mind the question 
One time in NYC I on purpose dressed the part with a long black overcoat and flat cap, and I guess it worked because two people asked me for directions. I don’t remember even being mistaken for a worker.
I used to get stopped a lot, partly for this reason. Also, I never carry a purse. It took me a while to realize it, but an unencumbered woman strolling the aisles is obviously an employee. I was disappointed to realize I don’t really look like I know a lot.
I had two cute American girls ask me for directions in Cordoba, Spain. I replied in broken English 
Not inside the store, but I rented a pickup at a Menard’s (the regional version of Home depot). For $19.95 you could get the pickup for two hours, which is really convenient to carry big loads back to your house if you drive a Civic.
Anyway, as I was getting into their brand-embellished pickup truck, a lady runs up to me, asks me to measure a board for her, and got mad when I said I didn’t have a tape measure on me. She obviously thought I worked for them and should be ready to help customers like her. I had was halfway home before I figured out why she was so pissed at me.
Back in the days of Circuit City, I wore a red polo one day when I stopped to look at a new TV. Had 3 people ask me for help.
When I visited a friend who lived in NYC, other tourists constantly asked me for directions. My friend said people found me accessible because I “smiled too much”.
He also yelled at me a lot for letting people see my money. I never understood that. How do you pay for something without displaying your money?
That happened to me when I was overseas. I think it was because I was strolling around, looking relaxed. The people with jobs looked harried.
Never. Even when I DO work there, people ask me if I’m lost and can they help me.
I got stopped at a Target once, while wearing on of my hockey shirts. I guess she assumed the store had so many guys named “Ruutu” that they had to number them(15?).:smack:
How about you leave the gratuitous comments about if you find some woman a “mother you’d like to f*ck” out of the thread. I think we can all follow along without that bit of information.
No warning issued.
Partly correct, its because (in my experience delivering truckloads to construction sites) women don’t generally work out on the site so much as in the onsite office/trailer and can either sign for or otherwise correctly direct the delivery and or driver
Ive been mistaken for the construction supe/site foreman once or twice by other drivers
Depending on my mood, I will usually go ahead and give them whatever assistance I can render, though sometimes when I was not looking to be bothered, I would tell them that I am on break.
And that actually does bring up a point. Do you bother employees that do work there, when they are on break? I worked at a couple of grocery stores, and we had to clock out at the back, and then walk through the store to get out to our car to go to lunch, or just to smoke a cigarette. I also had to walk back in through he store to get to clocking back in from my break.
I only got 15 minutes, at least 5 of which was walking back and forth. If I stopped to field questions and assist customers, then I don’t get a break at all, or I end up being late clocking back in. Blowing them off by telling them that I was on break would actually usually annoy them, as they didn’t seem to feel that my break was very important to them.
I was in Ireland, visiting a customer in the area of Waterford, the same town where they used to make Waterford CRystal. They had a big factory where they gave tours, abd a sizeable gift shop.
After business concluded at the factory, I went to the Waterford shop to pick up a couple of gifts to take home. At one point I was standing there in the store, my arms crossed, just looking at the tourists coming in, most of them elderly, and mostly dressed very casually with T-shirts with pictures and logos on them.
People kept coming up to me and asking where things were. I directed them as best I could, but I had to say “You know, I don’t work here.”
I think the fact that I was dressed in a suit and tie, and wasn’t randomly looking around at things gave people the impression that I was some sort of supervisor.
When we were honeymooning, one of the stops was Vancouver, BC when they were having the World’s Fair. Coming from California, we were not quite prepared for a Canadian summer so DesertWife stopped at the Bay Co. to get something. She came up with a nifty little number, a cloth coat in a subdued blue with gray trimmings, and a vaguely military cut that looked good on her.
For a day and a half we wondered why people kept asking us where the restrooms were, then we noticed that the Fair had people they called Ambassadors strolling about you could ask questions of. They were dressed in the exact same jacket, the only difference being they had flag pins to denote which languages they were proficient in and the book of answers they all carried.
We started paying attention and could answer about 80% of the questions tossed our way.
I wore an orange t-shirt to Home Depot and wound up helping someone load stuff into their car.
I didn’t even get a tip…
Some years back, I patronized a dry cleaning shop close to my house that did men’s shirts for $0.99 and any other garment for $1.99. They also did same-day turnaround. This made them very popular, because up until then, the prices in all the area shops were much higher and the delay was 2-4 days.
After losing business to these folks for several months, the dry cleaners’ association started looking for ways to shut down the competition. Possibly relevant to the story: the existing association was non-Hispanic ethnic, and the new store was owned by a Latin gentleman and staffed by mostly Hispanic workers.
The dry cleaners’ association found an obscure piece of language in the zoning code that limited dry cleaning floor space, and petitioned the Zoning Board to revoke the permits previously granted to the newcomers.
For weeks leading up to the hearing, the owner had a sign in his place describing the event, and I offered to testify at the hearing as a member of the public who was happy with the new store and the new prices.
My wife and I, with our son in an infant carrier, attended. I was wearing tan slacks and a red polo shirt, just because that’s what I happened to wear.
As we arrive at the hearing, I see that the owner has brought the troops: all his employees, it seems, are there, carrying signs that say things like, “Don’t Take Away Our Dreams.” And it’s tonight that he debuted his new employee uniform: tan pants, red polo shirt with his store’s logo embroidered in small, tasteful, barely noticeable fashion.
When I got up to speak, I clarified that I was a customer, not an employee, had no other association with the store except a love of low-priced, quality dry cleaning, and was met with understandable but annoying skepticism by the Board members. “What are the odds,” they seemed to be thinking, that the customer who volunteers to testify is ALSO Hispanic, and ALSO wearing red polo shirt and tan pants?
They won, by the way.
You’re a sweetie. I shudder to think what would have happened if she tried that on my husband.