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    Category: Criminal/Illegal

    Putting The Situation On To A Knife-Edge

    | Canada | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (I am a customer at a party store, picking up a Halloween costume. The store sells not only costumes, but also toys, props, things for pranks, etc. As I’m getting ready to leave, a gruff-looking customer enters and marches up to the counter.)

    Customer: *pulls out a gun and aims it at the cashier* “Give me all the money or I’ll blow your f****** head off!”

    (Frightened, the cashier starts doing as told, while the other customers are shocked and unmoving. I recognize the gun as not real, but sadly the cashier does not. The customer isn’t paying attention to me. I sneak over to a shelf, pick up a certain item, and quietly remove it from its packaging while he keeps yelling. Eventually, I sneak up behind him.)

    Customer: “Hurry the f*** up! I don’t have all f****** d—”

    (I suddenly shove the stage knife I have unpackaged against his throat from behind.)

    Me: “Drop the gun or I swear to god I will slit your throat right here and now!”

    (Shaking, the man slowly puts the gun on the counter. I grab it with my free hand, just in case. The cashier calls the police, and when they arrive, she explains what happened to them. They arrest the man.)

    Me: “Hey. Before you take him away can I show him something?”

    Officer: “I don’t see why not.”

    (I hold up the fake knife, turn it, and plunge it into my stomach. The fake blade retracts into the handle and does nothing to me. I show him the knife again, and his eyes widen.)

    Me: *in a singsong tone* “Plastic!”

    (The customer was taken away looking both embarrassed and ticked off. The cashier let me keep the fake knife and gave me a discount on the costume I had come in to purchase. All in all, a good day!)

    That’s What You Get When You’re A Law Unto Yourself

    | FL, USA | Bad Behavior, Criminal/Illegal

    (As part of a college class we had to go to observe some criminal court proceedings. We attend a hearing where a private defense attorney is being incredibly rude to the prosecutor, who is a quiet, unassuming-looking middle-aged woman. At one point, he even calls her stupid. The prosecutor just ignores him. At end we get to ask some of the attorneys some questions, the rude defense attorney included.)

    Defense Attorney: “Hey. What’d you think?”

    Student #1: “You were a little rude.”

    Defense Attorney: “That’s just how you’ve got to be. Anyway, I’ve got nothing to worry about! I’m up against a kindergarten teacher!”

    Student #2: “Are you new here?”

    Defense Attorney: “Yeah, I just transferred from a firm in [other state].”

    Student #1: “Oh.” *we all look at each other*

    Student #2: “Have you heard of [high-profile murder case that resulted in a conviction]?”

    Defense Attorney: “Yeah.”

    Student #2: “Well, the prosecutor you were being rude to was the lead prosecutor in that case. We came here specifically to observe her.”

    Defense Attorney: *blushes* “Oh…”

    The Lawsuit Has A Ghost Of A Chance

    | OR, USA | Crazy Requests, Criminal/Illegal, Theme Of The Month

    (I’m just coming on shift in the emergency room. A patient approaches my desk, then leans over and glares down at me.)

    Patient: “I just want you to know that if I go home and die because of your substandard care that I’m going to sue you and never forgive the hospital.”

    (The patient doesn’t give me any chance to say anything before he walks out the door.)

    Coworker: “I wonder how many lawyers take on angry ghosts as clients?”

    Six Red Flags

    | TX, USA | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Liars & Scammers

    (Two customers come to my register with two baskets overflowing with groceries. They’re accompanied by four children between the ages of 4 and 11. The carts are loaded to overflowing with baby food and formula, diapers, expensive meats, cheese, beer, wine, sodas, and lots of frozen meals. They are extremely friendly and lay on the endearments quite heavily.)

    Me: “So, did you find everything okay tonight, folks?”

    Customer #1: “Oh, honey! Bless you! You bet we did, baby!”

    Customer #2: “Woooo! More than everything! Look at these steaks! These are gonna be great!”

    (The customers and their eldest two children load the first cart onto the belt. They take it, empty, to the end of my register to bag and load their groceries, since I don’t have a bagger. After several minutes, I finish ringing them up.)

    Me: “Okay. Your total comes to [large, triple digit sum]. How would you like to pay that today?”

    Customer #1: “By check. Let me write it up for you, honey.”

    (As the first customer writes the check, the rest of the group finishes packing the groceries. She finishes writing the check and hands it to me.)

    Me: “Okay, great. Can I see your ID to confirm a few details?”

    Customer #1: “Sure, honey. Sure.”

    (She opens her wallet and flips to the clear ID panel. The driver’s license inside looks really wrong.)

    Me: “Sorry. Do you mind if I remove the ID from the plastic to see it better?”

    Customer #1: “No, baby! Go ahead, sweetie! Help yourself!”

    Me: “Okay. Ah. Do you have another form of identification, ma’am?”

    Customer #1: “What’d you say, honey?”

    Me: “Another form of ID? A driver’s license or something?”

    Customer #1: “Honey, that IS my driver’s license.”

    Me: “Actually, no, ma’am. It’s a Six Flags ID. See? The back here says ‘not government issued ID’ and the ‘Texas’ holograms are just gold puff paint.”

    Customer #1: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That right there IS my real ID, baby!”

    Me: “And your check has a few routing numbers scratched out—”

    (The customer suddenly snatches the check and ID out of my hands. The whole group bolts for the exit as I call for a manager. He commends me on catching them out and gets staff to put the items in the freezer for the time being. A few minutes later, I get a phone call on my register.)

    Me: “Hello. This is [Store Name], register 12. [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

    Cashier: “Hey, [My Name]. Can you get me [Assistant Manager]? I’ve got someone trying to pass a bogus check on gas and soda out here.”

    Me: “Does she have [Name] tattooed across her chest in a script font?”

    Cashier: “That’s her.”

    Me: “Stall her. Tell her the check’s jammed in the machine or something. I’m sending him out.”

    (I call the same assistant manager as before. The acting unit manager, loss prevention member, and the assistant manager book it out the door to the parking lot. By the time they arrive, the customer and her group had made a run for it, leaving the stolen check and fake ID behind. Police are called. We are questioned, and then told that the woman has no fewer than three warrants out for her arrest.)

    Went On A Jurassic Lark

    | Rapid City, SD, USA | Bad Behavior, Criminal/Illegal, Family & Kids, Top

    (I work at a geology museum. A woman and her son, who looks about five, walk in. The boy is entranced by the mammoths, dinosaurs, and marine reptile skeletons on display. The mother looks unimpressed, and is on the phone for most of her stay. Since the building is kept at a pleasant temperature, she drops her heavy coat off with me at the front desk. Later, I spot her heading for the exit.)

    Me: “I hope you had a good time at our museum. Did you have any questions before you go?”

    Mother: “I’m not interested in your stupid dinosaurs.”

    (She heads for the elevator, which is around a corner. I assume she has her child waiting there, since I can’t see him in the rest of the museum. Three hours later, I see her son wandering around the displays, looking lost. I rush over to him.)

    Me: “Hey, buddy. What are you doing here?”

    Son: *in the most heartbroken voice ever* “Have you seen mommy? I fell asleep.”

    Me: “I saw her a little while ago, bud. Why don’t you have a seat over here? Do you have your mom’s phone number, or a way to contact her?”

    (Fortunately, he has a list of emergency-contact numbers in a tiny wallet. I call the one labeled ‘Mom’ in blue crayon, after giving him some paper and colored pencils.)

    Mother: “Who is this?!”

    Me: “This is [My Name], from [Museum's Name]. We have—”

    Mother: “You d*** well better ship me my coat, you b****! That’s a $500 coat, and I’m already on the other side of the state!”

    Me: “You also left your son here, ma’am. And I don’t have a box in his size.”

    Mother: *after a brief pause* “You son of a b****! You should have told me I left my kid behind! It’s going to take me five f****** hours to get back there!”

    (I decided to end the call, and instead called the police department. The mother stormed in a little over four hours later, long after the museum is supposed to be closed. She had a nice long conversation with child-care services. Her son gave me a hug and thanked me for staying with him. I still have his drawing of a plesiosaur.)

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