Tuesday Night.

On Tuesday night, around 8:30, I had one of the most degrading, humiliating experiences that I've ever had.
I had gone to shelve some stray books in area that borders the general merchandise section. A little girl approaches me and says, "Excuse me, we need a hat in a 7 and 3/4." I reply, very kindly, that I actually only work with the books, but I could get someone to help her. Before I've even gotten the whole sentence out of my mouth, the girl's mother screeches, "Of course you won't!"
I look over, confused. What is this angry voice coming my direction? The mother is perched on a stepladder, sorting through hats.
"Sorry?"
"Of course you won't help us! None of you will!" She says "you" in the same way my friends say "George Bush."
"Well, I personally can't help you much, because I'm not trained in that department and I'm alone to cover mine, but I can easily find someone--"
"No, you can't. You won't. Because no one will help us." See, now she's just not listening. She doesn't want to be helped. She'd rather complain and yell at me then let me go get assistance.
"The guy from this department said all the hats are out here," she continues. "Why won't you come find for a size for me?"
So this is what it comes down to--
basically, she wants me to
1) leave my department unattended
2) cross to the other side of the store
3) climb a ladder
and 4) sort through caps to find a certain size.
So that she can stand and watch me do exactly what she's just done, since looking herself is obviously quite taxing. She's seriously acting like the task is so beneath her that I must relieve her immediately lest she develop blisters on her dainty white fingers.
"I'm really sorry, I will get someone for you, but I can't leave my desk unattended."
Keep in mind that we're about to close. I have the next day off, we have a huge visit while I'll be gone, I have so much shit to do in the next thirty minutes that even walking over to put away a book was actually a waste of time, but I was trying to clean up.

[I'm not sure if anyone watched the family edition of "The Amazing Race." But if you did...this woman was not only the spitting image of Ma Weaver, but had the same obnoxious voice and attitude. So scary that more than one exists. Maybe it was her sister.]

She continues shrieking at me as I calmly walk to the front of the find someone. "This isn't how you treat a customer! You find what the customer wants! I shouldn't be doing this myself!"
Before I get to the front for help, she finds the appropriate size. Unfortunately, on the way back to my desk we cross paths.
"Thanks for ALL your help," she says, sarcastically.
"Ma'am," I say evenly, "I explained that I need to stay at the book information desk and that I would be happy to find someone to assist you with clothing."
What I really want to tell her is, "See that path of tiles dividing the departments? See this name tag around my neck? IT ZAPS ME WHEN I CROSS THE LINE."
"Well, apparently your time is more valuable than mine, since you wouldn't help me and I've wasted all this time finding a hat."
(But really, my time, at this moment, is more valuable than hers, because she proceeds to waste both of ours by yelling at me while I would rather just do my work. If her time was so valuable, she would have stopped talking and just bought the damn hat already.)
This is when I go into repeat mode.
"Because of the specialties of each department, I am really only useful in helping you find books. I would have been happy to help you find someone with more knowledge of the way that department is organized."

I mean, we obviously want to assist all customers. But it's not like you walk into Saks and ask the shoe person to help you find the perfect eyeshadow. Or pair of jeans. Or bag. YOU ONLY ASK HER ABOUT SHOES. Same thing here. I can only know so much.

The woman is still talking. I seriously can't believe how long this has been going on. The little girl is tugging her mother's arm and saying, "Mom, stop it. She is a BOOK person. She didn't do anything wrong."
As the woman continues with her insults and yelling, I tune out again. Yeah, blah blah, I'm useless, yeah, blah blah, I don't know shit. Those are great lyrics for a song. A SONG IN WHICH THE SINGER THEN CUTS OFF HER EARS AND THROWS THEM AT THIS HEINOUS WOMAN.
One of our assistant managers appears at this time and intervenes. The woman stops accosting me and actually admits that I did nothing wrong and tried to be helpful. She's just really mad that she couldn't find the right size right away.
Thank you. Thank you SO much for berating me, calling me incompetent, telling me I'm unhelpful, and basically making me feel like I'm more worthless than the dingleberry hanging from Charlie's butt.
I'm shaking by the end of the interaction. I'm in shock from being talked to so harshly, but I am astounded by the fact that this woman used the language and tone she did in front of her children. I'm embarrassed for her, but proud of myself for remaining professional. I'm visibly upset, though, and rush over to the cafe, where H and her lovely mother are so conveniently having coffee.
I try recounting the story and realize (even now, as I tried to write it) that I've blocked most of it out. She said some horrible things, but it was mainly her snide, condescending, sarcastic tone that shook me so much.
Who talks to people this way?
And what, oh what, did she think she could accomplish through rude, threatening, passive-aggressive comments?
I hope she feels good about herself for being on my "top ten worst customers. ever." list. I just feel sorry for her children. I bet they live with their dad most of the time.