(In the nineties, I am a 25-year-old punk kid with bleached blond hair working graveyard at a [Convenience Store] in a sketchy neighborhood. I’ve worked there long enough that the locals don’t harass me — much — and I never have any real problems. One regular customer is a nurse — a beautiful older black woman who takes the last bus home and comes in and buys smokes, and we joke around about our crappy hours. One night, she comes in and asks to use the bathroom, which is against policy, but I don’t care so I let her. A few minutes later, this kid comes in wearing a hoodie and sunglasses, doing the finger gun thing in his pocket.)

Kid: “Gimme all the money!”

Me: “Your mother…”

Kid: “WHAT’D YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?”

Me: *pointing* “She’s right behind you.”

(The kid turned around as my favorite customer walked out of the bathroom with that “I’m gonna beat your a**!” look that moms use on you when you know you’ve really messed up. The kid’s face was now as white as mine as his mom dragged him out of the store by his hoodie. She said she’d take care of this if I didn’t mind. I just nodded and smiled. A few days later, I was working the morning shift on a Saturday. The kid came in, wouldn’t look me in the eye, and apologized… and invited me to their BBQ. I went and had a great time. Nobody ever messed with me or that store again.)

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A few years ago, my teenage brother was in a slow-speed rear-end accident. He was at fault, but the damage to the other driver’s car was so minor that the cops had to bend down and squint to see it; the dent was barely the size of a dime. They exchanged insurance information, and my mom encouraged him to take photos even though both drivers were okay and there appeared to be no damage.

About a year later, we got a notice that the other driver was suing for $17,000 with a laundry list of complaints and supposed injuries, the pinnacle of which was “loss of enjoyment of life.” The letter was from one of those freeway billboard lawyer firms, which makes us suspect that she spent the ensuing months trying to find a lawyer that would buy into her claims.

Eventually, we got a notice that the insurance company had settled, but we have no idea for how much. We hope it wasn’t for much more than a $3 dust rag to clean her car.

I worked for an apartment complex with 72 units. 

One resident was a couple of months behind in rent when the assistant manager called her. She said she had moved out three months prior and she wasn’t paying — she still had six months on her lease. The manager was being nice and told her she needed to give her 30 days’ notice and turn in the keys. If she didn’t at least turn in keys by the end of the month we’d add another month to her bill.

Well, a few weeks came and went and we still had no keys. We got a call from one of her neighbors about water on their kitchen floor. There were inches of water on their floor… and the dining room and living room, and out into the common hall. Four units were flooded.

We found the leak in the unit of the woman who’d moved out. We had to shut the water down to half the complex for two days and it took two more weeks to fix the water damages.

When our lawyers finally met the woman in court, she said she wasn’t going to pay for all the water damage. The lawyer argued that if she still occupied the unit she would have reported the water leak when it was just a trickle before the pipe ruptured. The judge agreed.

(I’m a 21-year-old female pizza delivery driver in a very small town. One of the rules stressed to us drivers is “Don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable doing.” I’m delivering a pizza to a house after dark. I knock on the door and two middle-aged men, both about six feet tall and rather large, answer the door.)

Me: “Hi, that will be [amount].”

Customer #1: “Come on in and set it on the kitchen table.”

([Customer #2] says nothing but has a smirk on his face as he looks me up and down. I’m getting creepy vibes from both of them.)

Me: “I’m sorry sir. It’s against company policy for me to enter someone’s home.”

Customer #1: “Well, they don’t have to find out, do they?”

Me: “I feel more comfortable following policy on this one. Now I just need the money so I can get on to my next delivery.”

Customer #2: “What if we gave you a bigger tip? Would you come in then?”

(He pulls out a wad of twenties and starts flipping through them.)

Me: “I’m sorry. I really can’t go in and I really need to get going to my next delivery.”

(Both men look annoyed. [Customer #1] takes the pizza as [Customer #2] offers me a $20 bill as payment. I go to take the $20 but he keeps a firm hold on it and leans in.)

Customer #2: “What’s [Pizza Shop]’s policy on drivers who go missing?”

(I’m pretty frightened as just one of these men could easily overpower me. I have to think of something fast.)

Me: “If I were to not show up at my next delivery or back at the store within a certain amount of time, they would send people out to look for me at the last place I delivered to. That would be here.”

([Customer #2], looking more annoyed, let go of the $20 and they went inside and shut the door. I can only imagine what those men were planning.)

This actually happened to my dad, but I arrived to see the tail end of it. My dad works in one of the major grocery stores as a cashier and has done — at this store — for nearly 28 years, so he’s seen a lot of weird customers. I think this one takes the cake, though.

A middle-aged woman came into the grocery store one afternoon. She grabbed a trolley and started to go up and down the aisles. It looked like she was doing a weekly shop, and the trolley ended up piled high with stock. She got into line at my dad’s register but didn’t load anything onto the belt. Slightly odd, but some customers won’t when there’s someone in front of them. However, when the current customer left — there’s not enough room to get out of the registers if someone has a trolley in front of you because they’re not that wide — the woman looked at my dad and the register… before walking right out of the shop!

I arrived outside to pick my dad up from work in time to see one of the front end supervisors and a security officer chasing after the woman with a full trolley of goods. She claimed that she didn’t think she had to pay, that she thought they were having a giveaway. They escorted her back to the store and requested that she either pay or leave with nothing. 

Just to clarify, this woman spoke English with an Australian accent, was well dressed and well presented, and didn’t appear to have anything wrong with her.

I don’t know if she truly was just confused or if she attempted to scam them. Either way, it’s definitely one of the stranger experiences that Dad has had!