Are You My Mummy?

(I’ve often heard about this happening, but this is the first time it has ever happened to me. I’m working as a cashier in a coffee shop.)

Woman: “…and a white chocolate cookie, please. Oh, and I get a discount, too, as I’m part of the family.”

Me: “Part of the family, miss?”

Woman: “I’m the owner’s wife.”

Me: *already knowing she’s lying* “I see. I’m afraid I can’t honour that discount.”

Woman: “Excuse me?”

Me: “That’s £5.98, please.”

Woman: *pulling out her phone* “Now, listen here, you little b****. You have no idea what s***-storm you’re about to unleash. I’m calling my husband right now, so you had better give me that d*** discount. Actually for free, before my husband kicks your a*** out on the street!”

(She’s dialing a random number that I can’t see while I press the alert button under the counter. The store owner comes out.)

Woman: “Hello, dear? Yes, I’m at [Coffee Shop], and one of your… staff… Oh, hold on, someone else is here.”

Owner: “You talk to our daughter like that again, and you’ll have more than a divorce to worry about. Now get out!”

(It takes a woman a couple of seconds to realise the situation before she bolts, leaving her handbag on the counter.)

Me: “Thanks, Dad. How did you know what she was doing?”

Dad: “I came out from the back just when she claimed to be your mother and decided to hang back to see what happened.” *taking the handbag* “Let’s see if she has the gall to come back for this.”

(The woman did, two weeks later, but we sent it to the police after only a couple of days. It had no identification in it, and as it was new and she didn’t have the receipt, the woman couldn’t claim it was hers. She didn’t get it back.)