I don’t work in retail because I have aspirations to become the CEO one day. It just pays well, and that’s difficult to find when you’re 19, in college, and every employer of remote interest expects you to work for free. It wouldn't pay so well if it wasn't hard. I expected hard. But sometimes the things people say to me, including coworkers, is the worst part.

1. “Was he black?”

This is probably the most common question about suspected shoplifters that I hear from coworkers. It would be different if the question was to describe the person’s skin color, for identification purposes. Assuming the person was black just because s/he set off the inventory alarm is completely different.

2. “This neighborhood is black trash. At least the other store is white trash.”

When I was thinking about transferring to a store in the suburbs, closer to my apartment, this was the opinion that resulted. No person is trash, but the supposed racial difference between “trashy” groups is what bothered me most. I would be more afraid of the booty-shorts, rat’s-nest-bun moms throwing down in a Wal-Mart parking lot more than I would be afraid of the group of black men spending a ton of time observing the roasted peanuts.

3. “You need to stop being so nice and judge people immediately when they walk in.”

In the ten seconds it takes for someone to walk in and disappear down an aisle, I’m supposed to profile his or her likelihood to steal something. It’s supposed to be based on behavior, but 9 times out of 10, when my coworkers raise the alarm, it’s about a black person with a hoodie on. Even if the person in question has been extremely friendly.

4. “I need a different supervisor.”

Just say it. You need a male supervisor because you don’t trust my judgment.

5. “Now don’t wreck the store while I’m gone, kiddo.”

I’m a shift supervisor. I am responsible for almost twenty thousand dollars in store funds every night I work. I clean up day shift’s mess, half the time by myself because so many people call off an hour before their shifts with me, or they leave early. I've never called off myself. I don’t get breaks unless there’s another supervisor working with me.

The assistant store manager, the second-in-command, either calls me kiddo or Miiiiss Leighton (when he wants something). I get it. I’m 19. But I wouldn't be a supervisor if I was incapable. I’d be a fired shift supervisor.

6. “I’d take you home if you wore that.”

The milk delivery guy saw me and our female security guard (who is also my age) looking at the Halloween makeup. He’s creepy, but it’s not an uncommon occurrence. Between the drunk old men calling us “babe” or the ones following us around asking for phone numbers, it’s pretty normal at this point. We don’t talk about it.

My coworkers are (mostly) nice people. And we have a lot of wonderful regulars who come in for the paper or morning snack and are very friendly. Some people, though. Some people.