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    Category: Criminal/Illegal

    Got The Fraud On The Phoney

    | CA, USA | Awesome Workers, Criminal/Illegal, Liars & Scammers, Top

    (I work at a call center for an online store. My job includes fraud prevention. If a caller dials in to place an order that seems out of place, I let my manager know. This is one of those times.)

    Me: “So, I’ve got a customer on the line here that uh… placed an order for a really expensive product. Expedited shipping. They want a tracking number for it. I’m not liking this.”

    Manager: “Do the billing and shipping match?”

    Me: “Nope. Completely different states, too.”

    Manager: “Hmm… did they order anything before?”

    Me: “Oh, yeah! They placed [order].”

    (After a few minutes of silent research…)

    Manager: *smiling* “Transfer them to me.”

    Me: “Okay?”

    (He puts it on speaker.)

    Manager: “Thank you for holding, this is [name], manager in charge. How can I help you?”

    Fraudster: “Yeah, I’m pretty mad at you guys right now. Been waitin’ for twenty godd*** minutes for a single trackin’ number! The last associate that talked to me is an incompetent b****!”

    Manager: “Oh, well I’m sorry to hear about that, sir. You mentioned that you were looking for a tracking number, is that right?”

    Fraudster: “Yeah! And while you’re at it just fire the last b**** I spoke to! She’s f***ing useless as h***!”

    Manager: “It’s going to be a few moments while I pull up the number. But how’re you doing?”

    Fraudster: “Well… now I’m doing good. You know what you’re doing, unlike that—”

    Manager: “That’s good to hear. Glad you’re not feeling guilty or anything.”

    Fraudster: “…For…what?”

    Manager: “For the fraud orders you’ve been placing on our website.”

    Fraudster: “Uh…”

    Manager: “I’ll be honest with you: I know what you’re doing. I’ve known for a couple of weeks now. So, tell me, how many cards have you stolen?”

    Fraudster: *scared* “Ju-just two—”

    Manager: “Hmm, okay. Well, I work pretty close with [other state's police department]. So, I’m gonna give you two choices. You can either turn yourself in like the good guy I’m sure you are. Or you can just sit there while I have them down there in a few hours, embarrassing you and your family.”

    Fraudster: “O-oh God. L-look, I—”

    Manager: “I’ve got them on speed dial.”

    Fraudster: “I’ll turn myself in!”

    Manager: *extremely cheerful* “Oh good. Now, what time should they expect you so I can let them know?”

    Fraudster: “T-ten o’clock in the mornin’.”

    Manager: “They’ll be waiting. Have yourself a good day, sir.”

    (And yes, he did turn himself in!)

    Careless Carers

    | MI, USA | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Family & Kids, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (I work in a large retail center, and we are highly understaffed. I work in the outdoor department, and stop to help a caretaker with a child; they’re looking for a baseball glove.)

    Me: “Hello, do you need some help?”

    Caretaker: “I’m just trying to get this d*** kid to wear this glove.”

    Me: “…Excuse me?!”

    Caretaker: “Yeah, I work as this brat’s caretaker, and he won’t put his hands in the glove.”

    (I lean down to help the child, speaking softly and quietly, as he seems frightened. This only seems to enrage the caretaker further.)

    Caretaker: “How dare you, b****… talking s*** to him about me?! You’re a d*** stupid loser and that’s why you work here!”

    Me: “Pardon me, ma’am, I wasn’t talking about you. And please, don’t call me stupid; you do not know me.”

    Caretaker: “Why do you work here if you’re not an idiot?”

    Me: “I’m still working on my RN, so I can be more than a caretaker with a nasty attitude.”

    (The caretaker walks away, still cussing at the child. I call security and ask them to follow her and be sure she doesn’t hurt the boy. Meanwhile, I am called up front to work on the register. Of course, the same caretaker is in line.)

    Caretaker: “Hurry it up, b****! I spend my hard earned money on these groceries. Don’t waste my time.”

    Me: “Okay, ma’am… your total is $100.67.”

    Caretaker: “Here. Use my food stamps.”

    Me: “Okay, ma’am.”

    Caretaker: “Unless you’re too f***ing dumb to know how to do that.”

    (I finish ringing her up, but before she pushes her cart away, two sheriffs walk up and place handcuffs on her. Unbeknownst to me, she had, in fact, struck the child after I dealt with her the first time.)

    His Story Isn’t Rat-ified

    | Boston, MA, USA | Bizarre, Criminal/Illegal, Hotels & Lodging, Pets & Animals, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (I am waiting to check in to a small hotel. When I walk up to the front desk, the concierge is answering the phone. The speaker is loud enough that I can follow most of the conversation.)

    Concierge: “Hello, front desk.”

    Caller: “There’s a squirrel in my room!”

    Concierge: “A squirrel in your room? Please be careful, sir. We’ll send someone along right away to remove it.”

    Caller: “Better hurry, it’s a big one! It opened the window!”

    Concierge: “Sorry, did you say the squirrel was able to open the window?”

    Caller: “Yeah, with its little hands!”

    Concierge: “You should leave your room right now and we’ll send someone along.”

    Concierge: *over the radio* “Security to room [number] to remove a squirrel, please.”

    (I check in. As I do so, the concierge is very flustered and apologetic about the squirrel issue.)

    Security: *radio* “Uh, front desk, this ain’t a squirrel.”

    Concierge: “What? What is it?”

    Security: “A raccoon. And the windows sealed shut.”

    (My spouse works in animal control and I know we’re in an area that has a rabies problem, so I feel the need to speak up.)

    Me: “There’s a rabies risk here, so you should really call animal control.”

    Concierge: “Okay, I’m gonna—”

    Security: “Also, this guy’s drunk as s***, and he’s telling me the raccoon is his pet cat.”

    Concierge: “F*** it. I’m calling the cops.”

    (Luckily, the raccoon was healthy, but the unfortunate hotel guest was deemed drunk, disorderly, and in possession of a local zoo’s stolen raccoon!)

    Admitting Defeat Was An Easy Thing Touché

    | Boston, MA, USA | Awesome Workers, Criminal/Illegal, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (The owner of the bookstore where I work is very old and walks with a cane. Despite this, he always wanders the shelves and helps out patrons. Behind the counter, in a glass case, he keeps an assortment of trophies and medals he won in his youth. One night, someone decides to try to steal them.)

    Owner: “I’m sorry, but you can’t be behind the counter.”

    Robber: *smashing the glass* “F*** you, old man! Just stay away and don’t do anything stupid!”

    (The robber sweeps the medals into his backpack and then tries to open the till.)

    Owner: “Stop that, young man! You’re making a terrible mistake!”

    Robber: *waves a large knife* “Yeah, well so are you! Back off! How do you open this f***ing thing?”"

    Owner: “Take a look at all those medals.”

    Robber: “What? Just open the f***ing cash register!”

    Owner: *very calmly* “Just take a look.”

    Robber: *confused* “Uh, okay. Yeah, they’re gold. That’s why I took them, you a**hole. Gold fencing, gold fencing, silver fencing…”

    (The owner gracefully draws the sword from his sword-cane.)

    Robber: “Oh, please! Try that stuff in a real fight and you’ll just get kill—”

    (With a flick of his weapon, the owner removes the robber’s glasses.)

    Robber: *drops the knife* “Don’t hurt me!” *drops to his knees*

    (I had called the police as soon as the knife came out. They arrive and identify the robber as a serial burglar who had stabbed a previous victim. Years later, at the owner’s retirement party, he recounts the story.)

    Owner: “You know, hearing that story makes me think of two things. One, I wish a fencing judge had been there so I could have gotten the gold for that bout, and two, I missed the only time in my life when I could have asked someone if they called that a knife.”

    I’ve Got That Drinking Feeling

    | Brisbane, QLD, Australia | At The Checkout, Awesome Workers, Criminal/Illegal, Food & Drink, Underaged, Wild & Unruly

    (I’m standing in line at the counter, when an obviously drunk and under-aged boy wanders in. The cashier behind the counter is onto him like a shot.)

    Cashier: “Excuse me there, champ. Have you got some ID on you?”

    Drunk teen: “No, I don’t. Why?”

    Cashier: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave my shop then, champ. Right now, please.”

    Drunk teen: “What, just because I have no ID?”

    Cashier: “Among other things, yes. You can’t prove you’re 18, and you’re clearly drunk, which means you’re not legally allowed to be in this store. Please don’t be difficult; just leave.”

    (The drunk teen makes his way to the exit peacefully, but once past the front door decides to act up.)

    Drunk teen: “Well, f*** you! F*** you and get f***ed! I’ll f***ing be here if I want to f***ing be here!” *flips both middle fingers at the cashier*

    (The cashier, who is far taller and broader than he appears while he’s behind the counter, moves into the doorway to prevent the teen re-entering.)

    Cashier: *very calmly* “No, you won’t. Now you’re becoming both an annoyance and a disturbance. You’d better get out of here quick smart, before something happens that you’ll regret later.”

    Drunk teen: “F*** you! I’m gonna bash you man! I’m gonna beat your face!”

    Cashier: *cracks up laughing* “Champ, I doubt you could even beat yourself off at this point.” *takes a step outside the shop* “Please though, take a swing. Give me the excuse.”

    (At this point it apparently dawns on the teen that’s he’s in way over his head and his attempt at intimidation has failed miserably. The cashier seems quite willing to make an example of him.)

    Drunk teen: “Uh… uh… I’m… I’m gonna hurt you man!”

    Cashier: *icily, dangerously calm* “No. You’re going to apologise to the customers for annoying them, you’re going to apologise to me for annoying me, and then you’re going to leave, very quickly, before I put my size 14s so far up your arse your kids are born with tread-marks on their faces, so help me God.”

    (The drunk teen starts to stammer out something, but is interrupted.)

    Cashier: *in a very convincing and menacing Bale-Batman voice* “Get the f*** out of here. Now!”

    (The teen flees at his top speed, bumping into and tripping over everything in his path. We all give the cashier a huge round of applause, and an elderly couple high-fived him!)

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