Category: Liars & Scammers

Ever come across a customer that has made you want to call the police? These ones pretty much ensure it. It goes way beyond the realms of shoplifting or threatening behavior. Some of these customers are too stupid even for those…

Losing Him In Multiple Translations

, | Houston, TX, USA | Language & Words, Liars & Scammers

(I am an entrance photographer at a theme park.)

Me: “Hello, folks. Welcome to [Theme Park]. I need you to please stop for two quick pictures.”

Adult Male Park Attendee: *in obvious Texan Drawl and slightly bad Spanish* “No hablos English.” *yes, he said English, not Ingles*

(Trying to do my job, be polite, and not jump to conclusions I switch to Spanish, which, while I’m not a native speaker, I’m relatively fluent in, and have practiced specifically for Spanish speaking park attendees so they’re not left out of the full experience.)

Me: “No hay problema, señor. Necesito que dejes de para dos fotos rápidas, por favor.”

Adult Male Park Attendee: *still in obvious Texan Drawl and now broken French* “Polly View Frances?”

(Again, he said view, not vue, and while I could do the entire spiel in French, thanks to learning it from my Louisianan coworker, just in case, I’m certain at this point the guy is bluffing, plus he doesn’t actually ask me to say it in French, so…)

Me: “Oui, monsieur.”

(Got to give the guy credit for persistence, because he takes one more shot to avoid the inconvenience of having his photo taken.)

Adult Male Park Attendee: *not even really trying to speak in the language* “German?”

(Yup, he says German, not ‘Deustche.’ At this point, I’m bluffing his bluff. I never learned the spiel in German, but I do know enough to say…)

Me: “Ja, mein herr.”

Adult Male Park Attendee: “Ah, dang nabbit, just take our god-d*** pictures.”

(The family poses and everyone smiles except him. I smile and hand the man the slip with his roll number and finish my duty with them with a cheerful final comment.)

Me: “Your pictures will be ready any time after four pm. Thank you for your time and consideration. Hope you all enjoy this wonderful day.”

(Epilogue: The guy’s wife and kids dragged him to check out the pictures. They bought several framed, a few key chains, and both mini viewers… totaling enough for me to get $40 of commission off just them… They were my only sales that day!)

Giving His Leg A Clean Break

| WI, USA | Health & Body, Liars & Scammers

(Every month a cleaning company comes into our business to buff the tile floors. It is about 9:45 and we close at 10:00 so the last minute rush has begun. A middle-aged man enters and notices the cleaning crew mopping the floors.)

Man: *dramatically falls landing on his leg* “Ow! My leg! Why didn’t you tell me the floor was wet?” *followed by more moans of agony*

Me: “Sir, we have a problem.”

Man: “Of course we have a d*** problem! I just broke my f****** leg!”

Me: “Well… they haven’t even cleaned this side of the store yet.”

(Suddenly his yells of pain are silenced. Then, he stands up on his ‘broken leg’ and quickly darts out the door. But I did receive applause from both the other customers and the cleaning crew!)

Music With A Beautiful Ending

| NM, USA | Criminal/Illegal, Liars & Scammers, Musical Mayhem

(I’m a teenage girl and interning at the local music store my dad works at. As he is also a musician, he has many instruments (guitars, basses, drums, etc.) that he will occasionally leave in his car overnight. The night before this happens a guitar was stolen from his car. My dad describes it, and tells me to be on the lookout for it. As luck would have it, the thief brings it in to try to sell.)

Thief: “I was wondering how much I could get for this guitar.”

(I recognize the guitar.)

Me: “Of course. Let me just look it up.”

Thief: “Just hurry up. I’m really busy.”

Me: “I’m having some trouble finding it. Let me just grab my dad. He knows more about this stuff.”

(After I explain everything to him, my dad leads me back to the register.)

Dad: “Sorry about that, sir. What did you want to do with this guitar?”

Thief: “I wanted to know how much I could get for it.”

Dad: *pretending to look something up* “Funny thing, that guitar is coming up as stolen.”

Thief: *goes white* “That’s insane, my best friend gave this to me last night!”

Dad: “Well, he can’t be a very good friend if you’re already trying to sell it.”

Thief: “You’re crazy, man. I just want to sell this guitar.”

Dad: “[My Name], go in the back and call the cops, would you?”

(Before I could do anything the thief abandoned everything and ran out the door. My dad’s coworker called the cops, and they picked up the thief a few blocks away. The best part was that my dad got his fairly expensive guitar back!)

Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 9

| Boston, MA, USA | Food & Drink, Liars & Scammers

(I own a small bakery/coffee shop in Boston. I have three bakers and one barista, as our customer quantity isn’t very high. It’s my barista’s day off, so a baker and I have been rotating between performing her duties and our own.)

Customer: *looks at menu* “Give me a large [smoothie], two cinnamon buns, and a loaf of bread.”

Baker #1: “Yes, sir. Anything else for you today?”

Customer: “Yeah, I want a…” *trails off*

Me: *pokes my head out of the kitchen door* “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but my baker is needed elsewhere. [Baker #1], [Baker #2] needs your help.”

Baker #1: “Okay.” *heads to kitchen*

Customer: “I want a specialty coffee with that.”

Me: “Of course, sir. Anything else?”

Customer: “No. And I’m the owner’s husband, so I get free food.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

Customer: “What, b****? You’re not going to give me my food? What makes you so special, you little s***?”

Me: “Sir, I refuse to give you free food. You have no connection with the owner.”

Customer: “F*** you. I demand to see the manager.”

Me: “Of course, sir.”

(I go into the kitchen and send Baker #1 out. I hear the man curse some more and demand to see the owner. Baker #1 re-enters and tells me to go back out.)

Me: “Hello again, sir. I hear you wish to speak to the owner.”

(The man stuttered, turned red, and ran off without taking his food.)

Related:
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 8
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 7
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 6

No ID-ea Who Is Serving You

| Lethbridge, AB, Canada | Criminal/Illegal, Liars & Scammers, Technology

(I am 17, working in a large department store located on one end of a strip mall. I’m covering a coworker’s break in the electronics department when two men come in and proceed to round up about $1000 worth of goods, including having me take a number of gaming systems out of their locked cases.)

Me: “All right, gentlemen, your total comes to [large amount]. How will you be paying today?”

Customer #1: “Credit.”

(He proceeds to hand me a card. This is about the time that writing ‘check ID’ on the signature strip of credit cards became popular, so I instinctively look at the back of the card as I’m about to swipe it through. That’s when I notice something amiss.)

Me: “Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to need to ask for some photo ID. It appears the signature strip of your card has been tampered with.”

Customer #1: “Whattya mean?!”

Me: “Well, someone has scratched out most of the strip, so there’s no signature on the card.”

Customer #2: “Oh yeah, that was… That was his kid. F***ing brat. Can’t you just run it through anyway?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. Without a signature I’m required by law to check for ID.”

(Customer #1 proceeds to snatch the card out of my hand, grabs a pen off the counter, and sloppily writes in the name of the cardholder. At this point, I notice the card has an ethnic-sounding name on it, and the two men are very distinctly Caucasian.)

Me: *taking the basket of items off the counter and setting it behind the desk* “I’m sorry, sir, but since I have no way to prove that you are the cardholder, I can’t allow you to purchase anything here with that card.”

(The customers continue to mumble and protest, getting more and more antsy by the minute. They finally take the card and leave, calling me a ‘b****’ on the way out. I know I can’t legally keep the card, but I immediately call our Loss Prevention Officer, who follows them outside. The police are eventually called, and they confiscate the basket of goods for fingerprinting. I go on about my evening. Later that same evening:)

Coworker: “[My Name], there’s a call for you on line one. It’s your sister.”

(This is a little strange, as my sister works in the electronics store at the other end of the strip mall, and will usually just walk down to talk to me if she needs anything.)

Me: “Hello?”

Sister: “Hey, did you happen to get some a**holes trying to use a stolen credit card tonight?”

Me: “Oh, God, did he get you guys, too? Yeah, I even remember the name on the card.”

Sister: “Oh, yeah, we got them. Guess who their cashier was?”

Me: “…You?”

Sister: “Nope… [Name of the cardholder]. He works in the appliance section. They tried to use his own stolen card on him!”

(Apparently, the man whose card they stole and one of the store managers held the guys until the cops arrived. Crime doesn’t pay, kids.)

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