(We have a woman spend a lot of money with us on a credit card. A couple of weeks later we get a notice from the bank disputing the charges. I am very panicked as it’s a lot of money and even though I am not the one who served her, I was the manager on duty and did help with the packing of her purchases, so I feel responsible. Amidst the panic, I am formulating how I would pay back the lost money to the company when the manager calls me into the office. She’s been going through camera footage.)

Manager: “I can see that you’re helping wrap. Didn’t you notice anything about the customer? Did the card look fake or anything?”

Me: “No, I was really only wrapping between my own customers”

Manager: “You can see she knows exactly where the cameras are; she keeps her face covered or turned away. Here is the footage where the signature on the card is being checked so I know that was done right. But we have no idea how to get her because she gave a fake name. All I’ve got is a few shots of her on the camera at the counter.”

Me: *finally thinking straight* “Wait a minute. Is the camera outside the door real?”

(We used to have mostly fake cameras but a lot were replaced by real ones.)

Manager: “Yes, I’ve seen where she walks in the store on it.”

Me: “Go to [time] on it.”

Manager: “Okay, done it. What am I looking for?” *right then a car pulls up in full view of the camera*

Me: “That’s her car. I just remembered telling her to bring her car to the front of the store to make it easy.”

(We watched as she got out of the car, her full registration number clearly shown. Last I heard the woman is now doing five years, because she had been caught doing the same thing before. She had also done the same thing at our other branches. The card was actually real. She used a misspelling of her name to apply for it, so it was the bank’s fault because they didn’t check it against her ID properly.)

Related:
Gotta Give Them Credit For Trying

(I’m scheduled as a supervisor for a future evening. Anyone scheduled to work that evening that is going to be working different hours than they are scheduled needs to get my approval first. I’ve also been short-tempered lately.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, can minors work double shifts?”

Me: “Legally you can work more than four hours if there is a break between them, I believe.”

Coworker #1: “Okay, because [Coworker #2] wants me to work his afternoon shift but I’m already working the shift immediately after it.”

Me: “So it wouldn’t work without having a break in between. Why doesn’t [Coworker #2] just swap with you?”

Coworker #1: “I don’t know, but I’ll be fine. As long as I can get something to eat I think I’ll be fine.”

Me: “I didn’t ask if you’ll be fine. Frankly, I like staying out of jail far more than I care about anything to do with you.”

Coworker #1: “Well, then… sorry for giving you trouble.”

Me: “It’s the whole legal bit I was mentioning earlier.”

(I work at a retail store that occasionally sells contract cell phones. Security is always a big concern with these phones, considering the phones are essentially sold on a loan and could cause significant credit issues, making this department unique compared to the rest of the store. Today, someone came up to my coworker to buy one, and I was called over as he hasn’t had any training on contracts.)

Me: “Hi, you’re looking to get a phone today? Can I just see your ID?”

Customer: *hands over his ID*

(As soon as I see the ID, I know we can’t accept it. Several small bits around the edges are broken off, there’s enough cracks that I could probably rip it in half without even trying, and the entire section of plastic over the photo is missing. Worse, it looks like the photo is printed on a separate slip of paper that was once glued in place, and now the edges of the photo are peeling off.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I can’t take this. It’s a damaged ID.”

Customer: “I have my papers here, too. Can you take those?”

Me: “No, I need a valid photo ID. Those don’t have a photo.”

Customer: “But I have one here. Why can’t I use this?”

Me: “I need a valid photo ID, and if your ID is damaged to this degree, it’s not valid any more.”

Customer: “But it was just in my pocket.”

(The customer then left, saying he’d be back tomorrow. Something tells me I won’t be seeing him.)

(A manager from another store has called us to arrange a transfer of some sewing machines. She said the customer needs them urgently and that she would come over to pick them up in the afternoon. We also have a visit from our national manager around the same time. He sees the transfers waiting for collection.)

National Manager: “I’m going to [Store location] in the morning. I could take those with me now.”

Me: “[Manager] is on her way to collect them now. She has customers waiting for them this afternoon.”

(Oddly, the manager arrives close to closing time to pick them up. The next morning I get a phone call from the national manager, asking if the machines had been picked up.)

Me: “Yes, late yesterday, just before we closed. I had her sign our copy of the transfer.”

National Manager: “You’re sure about that?”

Me: “Yes.”

National Manager: “Okay, thanks. I’ll have to get back to you.”

(Later I find out that the national manager had noticed that there were no machines at the other store and that none had been sold. He asked the other manager, who denied that she had picked them up. She didn’t know that he had remote access to our CCTV and it clearly showed her collecting the machines. They discovered that she had done this for other transfers at different stores as well. She would wait a few weeks and call to say the items hadn’t arrived and then have the transfer cancelled. And she had swapped the signed copy for her unsigned copy when I was helping her carry the machines out. Thank goodness for cameras; otherwise it might have been me charged with theft.)

(The phone rings.)

Caller: *thick Indian accent* “Hello! Is this [My Name]?”

Me: “Speaking.”

Caller: “Good evening, ma’am, I am Agent Jim Smith with the IRS and I need to talk to you about a tax judgment that has been made against you.”

Me: “I’m a veteran. I don’t pay taxes.”

Caller: “And you owe… What? You don’t pay taxes?”

Me: “In the US, veterans don’t pay taxes.”

(Normally I just hang up on these guys, but tonight I was in the mood to mess with their crooked little brains. Let’s see if my misinformation campaign keeps them from calling me back.)

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