I am managing a retail store with very specific hobby equipment. I was hired personally by the owner, as we’re not a global chain, just statewide.

Customer: “I want to speak to the owner, [Owner].”

Obviously, knowing the owner by name is as simple as a Google search, but he is adamant that he knows and deals with [Owner].

After some back and forth, I give the owner a call (which he doesn’t usually like) and tell the guy’s full name. After a brief pause:

Owner: “That guy owes me a bunch of money. He’s jumping between stores, buying items with this same ploy, getting discounts, buying with stolen credit cards, and creating financial disputes. Call the cops and keep him there.”

How stupid can you be? Why did he ask to speak to the owner? Was he there to pull the same stunt? Did he not think I would call the owner?

Not the smartest. He got arrested.

When my father was in the US Air Force in the 1960s, he came down with an infection that required him to be hospitalized. His roommate was a deserter who was serving time in a military prison and consequently had a Military Police officer guarding the door at all times.

One night, my father got up and tried to leave the room.

MP: “Where the f*** do you think you’re going?”

Dad: “Um, the bathroom.”

MP: “The h*** you are, [Prisoner]!”

It turned out that when the shift changed, the new guard didn’t know which patient he was supposed to be watching, so he asked the prisoner. The prisoner pointed to my sleeping father and quickly left the hospital. While my father was easily able to prove his identity, I’m sure the MP had an interesting story to tell his superiors. “But he said he WASN’T my prisoner!”

I’m a cop. Our department just hired a new chief who previously worked as the chief in a city a couple of hours away. Since he’s new to the department and the area, the chief decides to ride along with every officer to get a sense of how we work and interact with the community we serve and with each other.

On the day he rides with me, I pull a driver over for speeding in a school zone.

Me: “I’m issuing you a ticket for going thirty-five in a twenty-mile-an-hour school zone. Please slow down, for your safety and for everyone else’s, too.”

Driver: “I’ve lived in this city my whole life, and my taxes pay your salary. Go fight real crime instead of harassing the people you supposedly serve.”

Me: “Information about contesting the citation is on the ticket if you’d like to contest.”

Driver: “See you in court. I’m going to the police station right now to talk to the chief.”

Me: “You’re welcome to do that. Our address is [address]. But the chief is actually riding along with me today since he’s new to our city and department. He’s standing right over there, and he loves meeting residents and hearing their thoughts. Would you like me to call him over? I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

Driver: *Going pale* “Uh, no, that’s okay. I’m running late for work, actually. I’m going to get going now.”

Me: “That’s fine. Be safe.”

Gotta love empty threats.

I was getting repeated calls about my Apple account being compromised. I don’t have an Apple account. I finally decided to press one for an agent to see if I could get rid of them.

Me: “Look, I know this is a scam. I want to get off your calling list.”

He got insistent, and I lost my temper and called him some names. I hung up, and then my phone started ringing every ten minutes with their robocall.

I finally pressed one again and got the same agent.

Me: “Please stop calling me.”

Agent: “No, it is our duty.”

At that point, I got a bright idea. I picked up a book I had been reading and began reading it out loud to him, ignoring everything he was trying to say to me.

After about three or four minutes of my reading to him, he hung up, and I haven’t heard from them since.

I was a member of a youth group for young men aged thirteen to twenty. We referred to each other as “brothers”. We had an event one Saturday evening, and I was asked to give three of my brothers rides home. The older two and I planned to get some beer after the event and then drive out to the desert and drink. We were all over eighteen — the drinking age at the time. I just needed to take the youngest, who was thirteen, home first.

To save a little time, I stopped at [Convenience Store] to get some beer before taking the youngest brother home. Knowing that it’d look suspicious, I parked on the side of the store so that the clerk wouldn’t think I was buying beer for an underage kid. I instructed him to stay in the car while I got my beer.

When I was second in line, my underage brother came in, walked right up to me, and asked where the bathroom was. I quickly pointed to the back corner of the store, hoping the clerk didn’t notice. (I also gave a hard eye-roll.)

The clerk IDed me but didn’t raise an issue about the young kid that had talked to me. I bought the beer, went out to my car, and waited for the young brother. I drove him home, and then we went out to the desert to drink and watch the stars.

On Monday, I ran into one of my other brothers at the college campus.

Brother: “Are you in any trouble?”

Me: “I don’t think so. Why?”

Brother: “I was at [Convenience Store] on Saturday at [time shortly after we left]. There were police there, and the clerk was giving a very good description of you to the officers.”

For the rest of my college years, I avoided that convenience store like the plague.