(A customer is making a scene at the customer service counter. He wants a refund on a phone we don’t stock and has a receipt from another store with a name that sounds similar to ours but isn’t quite the same. I’ve had to call my manager over to explain we can’t refund products that weren’t purchased from us but this guy refuses to budge.)

Customer: “Listen, buddy, you are going to give me back the money I paid for this piece of s**** or I am going to dial the police right now and see how you like having to deal with them!”

Manager: “If you do that they’ll tell you they can’t do much. I’ve already explained, and my employee has already explained, that you didn’t purchase this from us so we can’t refund you for it.”

(The customer proceeds to pull out his phone and makes a show of dialing the police.)

Customer: “Yeah this is [Customer] at [Store] at [Address]… I need some boys in blue to come down and settle a dispute the s*** these employees are giving me! No… no, they aren’t armed… No, I’m not in any danger… Look, just send the d*** police, okay?! Thank you!”

(He turns and smiles smugly at us.)

Customer: “You two are in trouble now!”

Manager: “In that case, sir, please can you step aside so we can assist the customers behind you while we wait?”

(The customer does so but keeps smirking at us. Several minutes pass and he starts looking more unsure.)

Customer: “Well?”

Manager: “Well what?”

Customer: “Aren’t you going to try to get me to call off the cops?”

Manager: “Sir, I already told you they aren’t going to be able to do anything. Upholding our return policy is not a crime so all that’s going to happen is they’re going to come here, possibly take a statement, and tell you there’s nothing more to be done.”

(The customer’s smile slowly melts away.)

Customer: “You’re serious? You’re not going to do anything to stop the cops from getting involved?”

Manager: “I don’t know how else to say this, sir. You want to return something you didn’t buy here; we can’t do that because, as stated, you didn’t buy it here. If the only way you will believe me is if the police tell it to you then so be it.”

(The customer is now looking pale.)

Customer: “You… you a**-hole! I have unpaid tickets! I can’t talk to the police!”

(The customer bolted out of the store and quickly drove like a madman out of our parking lot. Several minutes later the police actually did turn up and confirmed the guy’s description and car matched that of a driver they’ve had to pull over multiple times for dangerous driving and who owed a fair amount.)

(My Spanish teacher swears this happened to her police officer husband. We aren’t sure we believe it, but… A local garage has been broken into, but the only thing missing is a tire. This happens from time to time when somebody has blown a tire but doesn’t have the money to pay for a replacement. So the officer goes cruising around the area and quickly finds two Hispanic men walking by the side of the road, one carrying a tire. He pulls over and comes to speak to them.)

Officer: “Hey there. Is that your tire?”

Man #1: “Uh, it’s his. I’m just walkin’ with him.”

Officer: “Where’d you get the tire?”

Man #1: *quickly* “Oh, he doesn’t speak English! I can… translate?”

Officer: “Okay, then… ask him where he got the tire.”

Man #1: *pause* “Where-o get-o el tire-o?”

(Man #2 stares at Man #1 in horror.)

Officer: *also staring* “Where-o… get-o… el tire-o.”

(They both got arrested.)

(I’m working at the auto desk in an auto parts and cycle store. There’s a separate desk for the cycling department, but people usually come to the auto desk if the cycling one is busy. This takes place on a hectic Sunday afternoon:)

Customer With Child: “What size is he?”

Me: “Uh… In regards to what, sorry?”

Customer With Child: “What frame size does he need?”

Me: “Oh, I’m not sure. I’m afraid you’ll have to talk with the cycle colleagues for that. Auto colleagues are only trained with car things.”

Customer With Child: “But they’re busy. Just help me or call someone over.”

Me: “All of the cycle colleagues are serving at the cycle desk, but as soon as one is free they’ll be able to help you.”

Customer With Child: “Just tell me the frame size, for f***’s sake!”

Me: “I couldn’t even guess. They can help you at the cycle desk.”

Customer With Child: “Say a number! JUST SAY IT!”

Me: “…3?”

Customer With Child: “Ugh, you’re useless.” *rolls eyes and walks out*

(I work outside in a plant nursery and this particular day it has been bucketing down right since I woke up that morning. I am down at the info desk trying to dry off a bit when an middle-aged woman comes up.)

Customer: “You guys wouldn’t have any umbrellas to borrow, would you?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I’m sorry; we don’t.”

(She looks at me as if I had offended her.)

Customer: “Well, why not?! It’s raining outside! How am I meant to get any plants!”

Me: “I’m sorry. We used to, but people kept stealing and walking out with our umbrellas so we’ve stopped now.”

Customer: *rolls eyes and sighs* “Well, that’s just an inconvenience. You really should have a couple of umbrellas!”

(She walked off and I went into the office nearby. Only a couple minutes later I walked out after drying up to see the same woman walking back into our store with her own umbrella from her car.)

In 1991 I worked for the summer at a local dealer in the service department. Lots of stupid customers.

One evening, just as the sun is going down, a lady who has bought a new Chevy S-10 Blazer comes to the service desk and she is mad. Her complaint is that the dash lights are not working, and she is ranting about how this was ridiculous on a new vehicle.

My manager, who is familiar with this customer, walks out to the vehicle, reaches in through the open window, and turns the dimmer knob. Wow, dash lights! She says not a word, not even thanks, and gets in the Blazer and drive away.

Not a week later, she’s back. No sound coming from the right-side speakers. And she was again ranting, this time to other customers, about the crap Chevy she had bought. Again, my manager walks out to the vehicle and turns the balance knob for the stereo. One of the other customers chuckled loudly, she turned red as a beet, got in the Blazer, and left the parking-lot with squealing rubber. Her husband brought the Blazer in for service after that.