I’m a sixteen-year-old male. I work at a pretty big grocery store that sells beer. The catch, however, is that you need a smart serve and must be at least eighteen years old to sell beer.

Most of the time, customers don’t realize this and don’t read the sign to see which lane sells beer and when I tell them this, they either put up a bit of resistance or just move to another line.

It’s about 11 AM on a Sunday morning shift when a father and his daughter who looks to be around four or five years old come into my lane. I don’t realize that they have beer since they have a large cart full of items.

The father acts kind, asking me how I am, and I begin to scan his items. However, I get to the beer and kindly tell him that I cannot scan the beer because I’m not of age and don’t have a smart serve.

This leads to the father getting a little annoyed and after much pushback, makes me call somebody who does have a smart serve to override his beer because his having that six-pack of blue ribbon is just so important.

Somebody comes to override the beer and tells him politely that he should watch out for the beer lane sign next time because the company could get in trouble for a minor selling alcohol.

I kid you not, this guy freaks out and begins to yell, dropping the f-bomb on multiple occasions, going on about how they shouldn’t hire people under eighteen if it will, and all of this other ridiculous crap. All in front of his FOUR-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER.

He then proceeds to call the manager, complaining to him, and then once I finish scanning him out, he grabs the receipt right out of my hand and tells me to go f*** myself.

The manager ended up talking to me after, commending me for the way I handled the situation and we laughed about it.

I’m a retail manager for a retail drug store chain, and Friday nights are very busy. Everyone is excited for the weekend and alcohol sales are up.

It starts off as a typical Friday night until [Man] walks in. He makes his way to the cooler to buy a six-pack of beer in glass bottles. On his way there, he decides to hit on a woman and ask for her number. The woman’s boyfriend immediately confronts [Man].

Boyfriend: “[Woman] is my girlfriend!”

To get the full picture, the woman has a stroller with a baby in it, and her boyfriend is a large guy with tattoos for eyebrows and several extreme piercings.

Both parties go their separate ways until checkout.

[Man] is in front of [Boyfriend], and [Man] tries again to ask [Woman] for her number.

Boyfriend: *In a tougher, firmer voice* “Leave my girlfriend alone!”

After [Man] pays for his beer, he decides to wait outside, and again, he asks [Woman] for her number. [Boyfriend] is now mad. He grabs [Man]’s beer and slams it against a concrete pillar outside the store. Glass breaks, and there’s a large puddle of beer.

Boyfriend: “Next time, that’s your head.”

And he leaves with [Woman].

That is only the start of the crazy night with [Man]. He comes back in and asks for a manager.

Man: “I’d like a replacement for my beer.”

Manager: “Because we didn’t break your beer, we cannot replace it. We can call the police, though, so you can report the assault and the loss.”

Man: “The store would get a lot of bad publicity with the police and being on the news, so it would be cheaper and less stressful if you just give me another pack of beer.”

We kept saying no, multiple times.

Then, [Man] started a tantrum. He started punching the concrete poles, throwing whatever he could get his hands on, and even toppling the trash cans.

I called the police not once, but twice. Unfortunately, it took the police half an hour to get to the store. During that half-hour, [Man] was harassing customers and throwing his tantrum. Luckily, the other manager who was on duty with me was large and burly and offered to escort customers to their cars.

At one point, [Man] even tried to grab the manager’s leg like a little kid, begging for a beer.

When the police finally arrived, [Man] was throwing his shoes. He picked up a piece of broken glass, looking like he was ready to charge. That’s when the police drew their guns and ordered [Man] to put his hands up and get on the ground.

The police told me that what they had witnessed was enough for them to arrest him, but they took my statement for good measure.

Had [Man] just listened to [Boyfriend]’s first warning, he’d be home alone enjoying some beer. Instead, he spent the night in jail alone with no beer.

I’m tearing tickets at a movie theater one slow night when a suspicious-looking man in his forties with a large, ominous duffel bag wanders right past me, despite me asking repeatedly if he has a ticket to show me, and into the first theater in front of him. The movie in that theater doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, so the lights are still on inside.

I follow behind with my walkie-talkie, ready to radio my manager to call the police. I peek in and see him plop down in the back row, open his duffel bag… and pull out two six-packs of beer and about a half-dozen takeout boxes. He produces a fork — I’m not sure where from — and begins to wolf down noodles and chug his beer.

Normally, I don’t mind if someone sneaks in a candy bar or a bag of chips or a water bottle — small things. But a huge meal and twelve cans of beer is absolutely ridiculous. I can smell it from where I’m standing, and I’d be furious if I had paid for a ticket and had to deal with the stink of his smuggled food and drink and his slurping. I approach him.

Me: “Sir, two things. First of all, you absolutely can’t have alcohol on these premises. This is a strictly alcohol-free business. You can either take the beer back to your car or dispose of it, or you’ll have to leave. I’m also going to need you to do the same with the food. Second, I didn’t get your ticket. I’m gonna need to see it.”

Customer: *Confused* “Ticket?”

Me: “Yes, I’ll need to see your ticket.”

Customer: “Ticket?”

Me: “Yes… ticket.”

Customer: “I need a ticket to see a movie?”

Me: “Yes. That’s traditionally how movie theaters work.”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t have one.”

Me: “Then you’re going to have to go back to the box office and buy one. You can’t just enter the theater without one.”

Customer: “D***!”

I radio my manager to watch the greeter’s stand. I stand there and watch him slooooowly get up and put away his stuff. And when I say “slowly,” I mean it. It literally takes him five minutes to do this.

No exaggeration.

He keeps sitting down and sighing, checking his phone, rubbing his forehead like he has a headache, etc. I’m certain he is stalling and hoping I’ll leave so he can just say. I cross my arms, move even closer to him, and watch him intently. He finally leaves, naturally leaving his half-empty beer and half-empty food box for me to clean up. I follow him outside. He then turns to me.

Customer: “Which one of these theaters has [Movie] playing?”

Me: *Knowing he’s just going to try and sneak in* “If you go to the box office and buy a ticket, it’ll have the theater number on it.”

Customer: “Okay.”

He wanders away. I go back to the ticket booth and tell my manager what happened. About a half-hour later, the guy wanders by me again, doing the same thing as before; he —just walks right past without showing me a ticket. This time, I jog after him and stand in front of him.

Me: “I’m going to need to see your ticket.”

Customer: “Which theater is [Movie] playing in?”

Me: “It’ll say on your ticket. Do you have a ticket?”

He rolled his eyes and wandered back out into the lobby. He then tried and failed to stealthily crack open a beer right in front of the men’s room — and my manager, who was standing nearby.

My manager told him to leave or she would call the cops. He left the building… and then tried to come in about a half-hour later. This time my boss screamed at him to leave, and she picked up the phone to call the cops. He left very quickly after that.

But that wasn’t the last we saw of him! When we all left at the end of the night, we saw him passed out on a bench in front of the shop next door, surrounded by beer cans. My manager called the cops and reported a drunk passed out. Not sure what came of that.

I’m working concessions at a rock concert in a large sports arena. Invariably, there is a “last call” about an hour and a half before the headliner is scheduled to end. This means that alcohol is not served anywhere in the venue after that time. This conversation happens more than once:

Customer: “Can I get a [alcoholic beverage]?”

Me: “Sorry, alcohol is cut off. They won’t have it anywhere in the building.”

Customer: “How about a beer?”

What do people think is in beer?

Related:
Un-beer-lievable Ignorance

(It’s about fifteen minutes before closing. We have a nice porch where customers are welcome to sit and enjoy our wine and our food or a picnic they bring. There are signs everywhere stating this, and also that the porch and grounds close fifteen minutes after the store closes. I’m at the tasting bar with one customer and his three-year-old son, and most of my coworkers are starting to close up. A second customer is being helped at the far end of the bar by a coworker. My customer’s son is sitting on the bar.)

Male Customer: “You don’t mind if my son sits on the bar, do you?”

Me: “Well… I’d prefer it if he didn’t, but it’s almost closing, so I guess it’s okay.”

Male Customer: “Okay, great!”

(He’s doing a wine tasting slowly, so I pour him wine every few minutes. The female customer comes over when my coworker is called to help someone else.)

Female Customer: “I’m not really doing a tasting; I’m just trying to decide on a bottle to buy. Can you tell me about these wines?” *asks for some details and I tell her* “Okay, can I try that one? Just to see if I like it.”

Me: “Generally, you’d need to purchase a tasting, but since it’s just one, sure, that’s fine.”

(As I go get her wine, I notice that the male customer’s child is getting pretty antsy.)

Me: “Sir, maybe you should let your son down; I don’t want him to knock anything over.”

Male Customer: “Oh, no, he’s fine! I’m almost done anyway.”

(I get the wine for the woman. After a few minutes:)

Female Customer: “Could I try this beer? It sounds good. My husband might want to buy some; he’s outside.”

Me: “Sure, he can try one thing if he’s also deciding on what to buy.”

(I go over to the beer tap to pour her beer. As I’m waiting for the foam to settle, I hear a huge crash and turn around. The area where I was standing before is covered in shards of glass, both the bar and the floor. Somehow, the little boy on the bar broke a glass, or possibly threw it. Usually, when our glasses break, they break into two or three large pieces, but this one is a stem and a lot of shards. I’m a little stunned.)

Coworker: “Oh, my God, [My Name], what happened?! Are you okay? [Coworker #2], can you run and get the broom?”

Me: “I’m not really sure! I’m okay, though.”

(The male customer won’t look at any of us.)

Female Customer: “Excuse me! My beer, please?”

Me: “Sorry, do you mind waiting a moment? I want to be sure I don’t have any shards on me and I’m wearing sandals, so I’m afraid I’ll cut my feet if I walk through here right now.”

Female Customer: “But my husband is waiting outside for this beer!”

Me: “Sorry, it’ll just be a minute to clear a path. I’m a little paranoid about broken glass.”

(After two or three minutes, we get things cleaned up and I pour a fresh beer for the woman; I’m being overly cautious but want to make sure there’s no glass in her beer. The male customer and his son slink away without looking at anyone. The female customer is still there.)

Female Customer: “This beer is really good, but it took you a while.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but I was worried about the glass everywhere.”

(She leaves the bar and buys some things, including a glass of beer. My manager tells her that we’re closing as soon as she’s ready but she can take her time. After she pays, she sets her bag down on the tasting bar and asks where the restroom is. Then, she goes outside, comes back after a minute, and puts her bag of purchases on the bar.)

Female Customer: “I need to wait for my husband to come in and watch my bag while I use the restroom.”

Me: “It’s okay; I can watch it for you.”

Female Customer: “No, he’s coming; he’ll watch it. I don’t want it to disappear.”

(There are no customers anymore, just me cleaning the bar and three coworkers cleaning up other areas. Eventually, her husband comes in and he waits with her bag. After what feels like a long time, she comes out and they all go out. They all go to the car and we grumble a bit about this customer who wouldn’t actually purchase a tasting, and I discover she had several free tastes from my coworker, using the excuse that she was trying to decide what to buy. After a few minutes, we notice that the family is returning from their car with a grocery bag and a cooler, and they set up a picnic dinner on the porch. It’s now ten minutes past closing time, and five minutes before our grounds are closed.)

Manager: “Oh, no. Are they really going to set up dinner out there as the grounds are closing, after all the nonsense in here? Who wants to tell them they have to go?”

(We’re all silent.)

Manager: “Ugh, fine. I guess it’s a manager’s duty anyway. I’ll give them ten minutes and then I’ll go out.”

(After ten minutes, they haven’t even started eating, and the woman has barely touched the beer, which is obviously not something her husband wants. My manager goes out to speak with them.)

Manager: “I’m so sorry, but our grounds are now closed.”

Female Customer: “So? We’re not shopping anymore.”

Manager: “No, the grounds. We can’t have customers using the grounds beyond fifteen minutes after the winery closes.”

Female Customer: “What are you trying to say?”

Manager: “That you’ll have to go. I’m sorry.”

Female Customer: “But you just sold me this beer! What do you expect me to do?

Manager: “I sold you the beer about twenty minutes ago; I expected you to drink it. I’m sorry, but these are the rules. It’s not safe here after dark, since there are no lights that are left on after we leave.”

Female Customer: “Where are there signs saying this? I’m not leaving because of your secret rule.”

(My manager points to the three signs clearly visible and readable from where they are.)

Female Customer: “F*** you!”

(She pours her beer on the porch floor and she and her husband pack up all their food and kids and leave. My manager comes back in and says:)

Manager: “How much you wanna bet that’s our newest bad Yelp review?”