My Cup Runneth Over With Bad Customers

(I work at a famous attire store in London. We don't have client washrooms, yet incidentally on the off chance that we have a pregnant client or somebody with a youngster we will take them to the staff restroom. This is a bustling evening amid the Christmas time frame, and a group of things have officially turned out badly today. We are pushed. I see a woman meandering around with a couple of things, and her son holding her hand.)

Kid: "Mummmmm, I need to gooooo!"

Client: "In a moment. You simply need to hold it."

Kid: "Mummmmmmm!"

Me: "Howdy. To make sure you know, I can take you back to utilize our staff lavatory; it's not an issue."

Client: "Goodness, no, bless your heart. It's fine; he's simply exhausted!" to boy "We'll go soon, I guarantee, and after that we can go to [Nearby Toy Store]!"

(She meanders upstairs to the fitting rooms, and I don't ponder it, until the point when an associate's voice comes over the walkie around ten minutes after the fact.)

Partner: "Um… I require an administrator in the fitting rooms?"

Administrator: "I'm in the workplace at the moment; is it something I can help with over walkie?"

Partner: "You should need to come up here. I have a measure of pee."

(As it turned out, the client had given her son a chance to pee into a plastic container, and she shrouded it behind the mirror in her fitting room.)