(A kid who I barely know from high school comes into the store where I work.)

Kid: “Hey, [my name], give me something free!”

Me: “No. Did you actually want to order something?”

Kid: “Depends. Can I at least have a discount?”

Me: “No.”

(The kid then proceeds to reach his hand inside the display case where the cookies are held. I notice this and shove the cookie tray against the case, causing his hand to be trapped.)

Me: “Take your hand out of there and leave before I call the cops.”

Kid: “But it’s stuck!”

Me: “I don’t care. Get your hand out now!”

(He pulls his hand out and ends up leaving with out ordering anything. Thankfully, he was never seen at our store again.)

(A young customer is trying to purchase cigars, so I ask for his ID. Note: I’m Caucasian, and so is he.)

Customer: “Why you askin’ for my ID for cigars? They ain’t cigarettes.”

Me: “It is a tobacco product and illegal to sell to minors.”

Customer: “That’s bulls***! Gimme a swisher! You’re just racist against me! Gimme a f***ing swisher!”

(Suddenly, the customer behind him speaks up. It turns out they’re a police officer.)

Officer: “He can’t without your ID. If you have a problem with it, let’s go outside. We can call your parents and we’ll have discussion about disturbing the peace.”

Customer: *turns pale and leaves*

Related:
Where There’s Smoke, There’s Backfire

(Working in a liquor store one night, a male who looks about 16 enters the store. Please note: this happened in 2009.)

Customer: *places beers on the counter* “Hi, I’ll just have these, thanks, and a bottle of rum.”

Me: “Uh, sure mate. I’ll need to see some ID first.”

(The customer produces ID, and it looks real—his photo on it, holograms where they should be—but one thing stands out: his DOB says he was born in 1929.)

Me: “So. 1929 huh? You sure don’t look 80 to me.”

Customer: “I’m over 18 though, aren’t I?”

Me: “I think you better get out of my store before I call the cops, Gramps.”

(The kid left the beer on the counter and ran off. He also left his ID, which I kept to show off to my friends. We all had a good laugh about it!)

(A car blasting loud music pulls up to the drive thru. Neither I nor them can hear each other over the music. A few moments later, they pull up to the first window. There’s four men in the car, and all of them are smoking marijuana. The driver leans out the window and shouts at me.)

Customer: “Why you don’t take my order, b****?!”

(Before I can even respond, my manager comes storming from behind me and approaches the window.)

Manager: “What’s going on here?”

Customer: “This b**** won’t take my order!”

Manager: “Please do not insult my employees.”

Customer: “Man, f*** you!”

Manager: “I think you had better leave. Now.”

(At this point, the driver gets out of his car and approaches the window and starts having a shouting match with my manager. The next thing I know, the other three guys in the car start panicking about something, and shouting something at the other man, but he can’t hear them over the loud music and screaming. Then, someone comes up from behind the man at the window and taps him on the shoulder. It’s a cop. He has them all arrested for possession of marijuana and disturbing the peace.)

(Every year, my town hosts Sundance, which tends to bring some strange people along with it. I am the only one working in a very small paint store, right before close. A customer comes in and proceeds to look around the store for about 15 minutes.)

Me: “I am sorry, sir. We are getting ready to close. Can I help you find something?”

Customer: “I am looking for stuff to make a pipe.”

Me: “Well, sir, we do have some stuff to fix plumbing pipes.”

Customer: “No! I need to make a pipe to smoke out of.”

Me: “Uh, we really don’t have anything like that.”

Customer: “What the h*** kind of hardware store is this?!”

Me: “…A paint store?”

Customer: “Oh… then, can I buy some spray paint to get high on?”

Me: “No, sir. That is illegal.”

Customer: “Even during Sundance?”

Me: “Especially during Sundance!”

Customer: “Buzzkill!” *walks out*