(I work every summer in a beach shop in Florida. One morning a man had come in and bought a beach chair, and returned after a few hours with his family.)

Customer: “I would like to return this chair.”

Me: “Of course. Do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No, I just went to the beach. Why would I keep the receipt?”

Me: “Is there a reason why you are returning the chair?”

Customer: “It’s broken.”

(The chair was soaked with water, coated with sand, and has a hole in the seat from what looks like a footprint on the cushion.)

Me: “I am sorry sir, but we cannot accept used, broken items for return.”

Customer: “What! I didn’t break it!”

Me: “I am sorry sir, but without a receipt it still cannot be returned.”

Customer: “Son of a b*tch! You hear that kids? This Russian b*tch is going to f*ck up our vacation!”

Me: “…Russian? I live here.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me! I hear that accent.”

Me: “…What accent?”

Customer: “THERE! You just did it. No one talks like that in the Northeast.”

Me: “…I’m a Southerner. You’re in the South.”

Customer: “Whatever, you piece of racist sh*t!”

(The man left only after he threw the chair at a clothes rack. Quite the job experience for a 15 year old.)