I work at a brick-and-mortar retail chain that sells electronics, but we also have some (very limited) snacks like animal crackers and Pop-Tarts.

Shortly before closing time one evening, I had two people enter the store smelling like pot. I was watching the floor while the Manager On Duty was taking care of some closing activities in the office. As the two people entered, I greeted them and asked what they are looking for.

Customer #1: “We need some backup batteries.”

I began walking them in the right direction.

Me: “Do you have any questions about them?”

Customer #2: “No.”

I noticed [Customer #1] stopping at a snack shelf and grabbing a box of Pop-Tarts before meeting back up with [Customer #2]. As there were no other customers in the store, I stood next to the aisle in case they had questions. I then saw [Customer #1] open the box of Pop-Tarts and start eating them while I was looking directly at him.

Me: “Are you planning on paying for those?”

They both ignored me, so I radioed the MOD and explained the situation. The MOD then came to the floor, we stood on either end of the aisle and watched them eat. Eventually, they left the aisle and looked at other sections in the store. At that point, [Customer #1] wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was eating the Pop-Tarts.

Customer #1: *To me* “Hey, can I use the restroom?”

I show him where it is.

Me: “Let me hold that box of Pop-Tarts for you.”

He declined and gave them to [Customer #2], instead.

After a while, he came out and walked around the store some more. I kept my distance, but I was close enough to see everything they were doing. Then, [Customer #1] approached the MOD.

Customer #1: “Can I see the manager?”

MOD: “I am the manager.”

Customer #1: “Then stop following me!”

MOD: “My associate saw you grab a box of Pop-Tarts, and we both saw you eating them in the aisle. We just want to make sure you are going to pay for them.”

Customer #1: “I haven’t opened the box!”

Then, he set the box down on a shelf and started to try to walk out. The MOD grabbed the box and beat [Customer #1] to the exit.

MOD: “Are you going to buy this?”

He showed the customer the opened and half-eaten box. The customer started yelling at us and causing a scene.

Customer #1: “How dare you?! I want the general manager’s information and the corporate customer service number!”

We gave him the general manager’s business card and the corporate customer service number and then he walked out. We went to find his friend.

Me: “Are you going to buy something or are you going to leave? We saw your friend eat Pop-Tarts he didn’t pay for.”

Customer #2: “I am going to buy some stuff.”

After ten minutes, he came to the checkout with the least expensive clearance items we carry.

MOD: “Are you going to pay for the Pop-Tarts your friend ate?”

After the store closed, I started getting ready to leave. I went into the bathroom to change into street clothes, and I saw a bunch of Pop-Tart wrappers on the ground and in the trash. The dude must have had a bad case of the munchies.

To date, this is the most ridiculous thief encounter I have ever had.

I clear out the shared fridge regularly. We’ve had arguments over it before, but after I showed my flatmates what was dripping on their food — the green mold farm at the back of the fridge — they quickly changed their minds.

Everyone, that is, apart from [Housemate]. [Housemate] hates me for it; he hates being told what to do and he hates not getting his own way. I blame it on his spoilt lifestyle.

Housemate: “Why did you throw this out? It only went out of date yesterday!”

Me: “Don’t tell me you are going to eat that? There’s fur all over the cheese.”

Housemate: “I was going to cut it off!”

Me: “Firstly, this mold grows through the cheese; it doesn’t spread across the surface. You can’t cut it off. Secondly, you left it uncovered on top of everyone else’s food. I’ve told you. Everyone has told you. It’s not hard. Put your food in containers or it will get thrown out.”

Housemate: “You need to pay for the container, then.”

Me: “What? No. Your food, your responsibility.”

He tries to argue with me.

Me: “No, everyone here agrees with me. You act like an adult or you don’t use the fridge.”

Later, he tried to convince the housemates to get me out. I shared photos of some of [Housemate]’s food I’d thrown out over the past week or so. No one sided with him. Everyone told him to just grow up and think of others. [Housemate], in response, packed an overnight bag and disappeared late that day.

But not before unplugging the fridge.

No one noticed until much later the next day. We had to throw a lot away as it was the middle of summer. [Housemate] came back pretending to be innocent, but it was obviously him.

We agreed to kick him out, bagged his stuff, and told him to come to get it. [Housemate]’s biggest concern? He wanted “his milk” from the fridge. I got the (now) warm milk from the bin and put it with his things, and yes, he actually took it with him.

I rent a room from [Woman]’s mom. She is okay as a landlady, but [Woman] is just a horrible human being. I could write a book on the things she does without a shred of regret or remorse. The worst that comes to mind is when she pretended to be disabled and then started a fundraiser for herself for said fictional issue. Thankfully, few people fell for it and it didn’t go through.

Something happens to [Woman]’s job, benefits, or both, because I see her at the house with a load of her things. While I don’t listen in, it is clear that money is an issue and she can’t afford her flat.

Immediately, [Woman] wants “her room” back and wants me to sleep on the sofa. I say no; I pay for the room. [Woman]’s mother offers a discount. I say no; I have a contract. It’s my room while I’m paying for it.

Landlady: “Well, you don’t give me much of an option, do you?”

Me: “We have a contract, I always pay on time, and I keep the room tidy, so I’m not sleeping on a sofa.”

Landlady: “I’ll have to evict you!”

Me: “Fine, once you give me sufficient notice. That’s six months.”

Woman: “I can’t sleep on a sofa for six months!”

Me: “I’m a paying tenant, not a guest. I have rights to be here.”

They try to bicker with me, but I tell them to just check my contract. Fearing some sort of revenge, I photograph and video my room top to bottom, just in case they try to lie and evict me early.

Nothing happens until a month later when I hear the smashing of glass. I find [Woman] in the kitchen, glass all over the floor, and a wall cabinet hanging off the wall.

Woman: “Oh, no, what have you done? Tenants who damage their room can get kicked out.”

Me: “‘Room,’ exactly. You know this is the kitchen and not part of the rental agreement? Your mom was quite clear on that. Any damage is yours to fix.”

Woman: “What? No! I… Mom!”

I could hear them shouting at each other through the walls. I only wished I could hear them better.

I soon found another room to rent with a family that spent most of the year abroad. I paid the same rate but I had the house pretty much to myself.

I own a photography store, selling cameras and doing passports, etc. We open at 1:00 pm on Mondays, but I happen to be at the store on Monday morning because I need to get something and am planning on just grabbing what I need and going home.

A woman tries to get in through the locked door. The door has a sign on it that says we’re closed and another sign with our opening hours. I haven’t turned on any of the lights, so it’s also very dark inside. The woman starts banging on the door. I am just about to leave so I go outside.

Me: “Ma’am, we were closed.”

She doesn’t take it well and immediately demands:

Customer: “I want to speak to the manager.”

Me: “I’m the owner.”

She then shouted and cursed so much so that the manager of the supermarket across the street came out to help me. She then tried to make the supermarket manager force me to open my store almost four hours early.

Didn’t work. Never saw the woman again.

Related:
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 47
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 46
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 45
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 44
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 43

Yesterday, my dad told me to stop by his work and change my tires from winter to summer ones. I arrived just when they were having lunch. I loaded the tires and tools on a cart and moved it closer to my car. Around five minutes later, a car I had never seen before arrived. It was the typical family SUV, and it parked behind the building rather than in a parking space for customers in the front. This was strange.

A woman got out of the car and approached. I watched, wondering what she was going to do. When she came close enough to me, she could hear my car radio blasting, so she gestured to me to lower the volume, so that’s exactly what I did.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Woman: “Yes, when can I come and pick my car up?”

I didn’t know she thought this was an auto shop.

Me: “I dunno. Whenever you want, I guess?”

Woman: “Oh, that’s awesome. I’m going to go to [Store] and buy some stuff; I will be back in fifteen minutes.”

She then left the keys on my cart and walked off. I was confused about what she wanted from me. I assumed she wanted me to look after her car, because it’s quite common that other people bump their doors into your car and just leave. I didn’t take that as a problem since it was parked a few meters from me.

After maybe thirty minutes, she came back with two bags.

Woman: “Are the tires changed?”

Me: “What tires?”

Woman: “Tires on my car, of course! Have you changed them already?!”

I am easily pissed off if people talk to me like I’m some slave of theirs, but it takes a lot more to make me lose it.

Me: “Why the h*** would I change your tires?”

Woman: “Because you already pulled tires out of your shop, and you have the tools out, too, so that means you’re open for business!”

Then, I realized what was going on.

Me: “Do I look like I’m an auto shop?”

Then, the woman made a big mistake.

Woman: “Are you deaf or what, you fat moron? You have tools and tires out on a cart, so shut the f*** up and change my tires!”

This is the point when I snapped. Let me just tell you that the Czech language is very rich on swear words and we can make a swear almost out of any word, so the translation might not be 100% precise.

Me: “You f****** sack of s***! Who do you think you are, and who do you think your talking to? You’d better get the f*** out of here before I shove this jack right up your a**!”

Woman: “How f****** dare you to speak like that to me?! You’re lucky my husband isn’t with me; otherwise, he would f*** you up. Now, get the f*** to changing my tires before I slap your ugly-a** face!”

My dad came out from the back door having heard us screaming at each other.

Dad: “What is going on?”

Woman: “Your employee is refusing to change my tires and is being very rude and disrespectful to me.”

Dad: “He’s not our employee, and we don’t change tires. What the f*** are you doing back here, anyway?”

Woman: “I’m here to get my tires changed because my stupid husband doesn’t know how.”

Interesting how her husband went from “f****** me up” to not being able to change stupid tires.

Dad: “We are not an auto shop, so shut your g**d*** mouth and leave our parking yard.”

Woman: “So, you are rude, disrespectful, and confusing me instead of telling me that you’re not an auto shop?”

At this point, I saw her getting ready to slap me. I was still holding the pipe from the jack in my hand, so I did the simplest and probably the best thing I could do: I just raised my hand so when she was already in motion of hitting me, she hit the pipe. After that, she screamed in pain, ran to her car, and just drove off.

I don’t think she was hurt much because the impact of her hand on the pipe wasn’t even strong enough for me to lose grip of it.