Unfiltered Story #194391

, | Unfiltered | May 17, 2020

(I manage a charity shop in the UK. We have longer opening hours than most charity shops in our area, which is good because we tend to gain stock donations in the hours when we’re the only ones open. I’m fairly lenient – if I’ve locked up but I’m still in the back room finishing up, I’ll still accept donations from latecomers.)

Ten minutes after closing, lights are off in the main shop, I’m finishing some paperwork in the back … cue the knock on the door. I look out see a man in the doorway. I go to see what he wants.

Customer: (shouting over his shoulder) “It’s okay! They’re still open!”

Me: What. (unlocks door, puts foot firmly behind it) Yes?

Customer: I just want to buy some sweets.

Me: I’m afraid we’re closed. We close at five.

Customer: Just some [Name] sweets! They’re on the stand.

Me: Yes, I know they are, but I’m afraid we’re closed. I can’t serve you.

Customer: Ah come on! I just want to buy them!

Me: I’m sorry, we’re closed. The till is shut down. I can’t serve you. Good evening. (closes door and locks it firmly, with an appropriately sympathetic look at his downtrodden expression through the glass)

Next evening, frantically trying to clear the massive pile of donations we’d received, I hear something out back. I go to look, and find two men rifling through our bin. This happens almost every night, but I rarely catch the culprits in the act. Presumably they’re searching for the gold bullion we store there.

Me: Get the **** out of that bin before I call the police! (Both men look at me, I recognise both … and one of them is the guy from the previous night.) Oh … YOU!

(He didn’t come back in for several months!)