(I work in a bookstore, and I swear people think people who work in said stores are like Google. Here is one example.)

Me: *answering the phone* “Thank you for calling [Store]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi, I’m looking for a book by an author.”

Me: “Who is the author?”

Customer: “I don’t know. She’s from Alaska. Can you tell me?”

Me: “No… Uh, what books has she written?”

Customer: “I don’t remember.”

Me: “Um, is there anything else you can tell me?”

Customer: “She’s from Alaska. Don’t you know her?”

Me: *bangs head on desk*

In my store, at Christmas, each sales assistant is allowed to give out a Random Act of Kindness — basically a free product we slip into someone’s purchase as a little gesture if we’ve had a good consultation. I had a wonderful chat with a mother and daughter and helped the daughter pick out a face mask and a cleanser.

She also tried out a toner water and a moisturizer but decided they could come back another day for those. Because they were both so polite and lovely, I decided to give them the toner as a random act, put it behind the till, and went back to serving other customers.

A little later one of my coworkers approached and told me that the mother had found the act of kindness and asked my colleague if she could swap her — free! — toner water for the moisturizer, at nearly three times the price!

A/N: this took place in the summer of 2007

It was an ordinary day, at least it was until a woman came into the store, unsure of what she was looking for. I was called upon to assist the customer. After an hour of wandering around the store, she still hadn’t selected whatever she wanted. So, as I had to go back to the front end (The front of the store faced the parking lot, the back faced Maple Rd), I handed her off to a kid coming from upstairs off his lunch break. So anyway, as I glance up to the customer service desk, I see the woman leaving. Without anything. I kinda felt uneasy…..like something was off about her.

I turn my attentin back to bagging.

My focus was then rudely interrupted about 5 minutes later as a loud metallic smash startled me and other baggers in the store.

And then screeching tires, and another “BAM”.

And another. And another. And another…..the last one with a sickening crunch, sqealing, and clattering sound

I sprint outside to see a black 2008 “BRAND SPANKING NEW” Cadillac CTS smashing cars left and right, smoking, leaking radiator fluid, front and rear end smashed in as if it had been hit by a semi from the rear and pushed into another semi in front…Guess who was driving? That’s right, the woman who had just left…..

I stood there in shock for like 3 seconds then ran to push a line of carts out the way before the store’s supply was destroyed. Customers came out screaming in rage when they saw their vehicles. Total chaos ensued. My manager came down to see the commotion and damage….she took one look at her car and gasped…..the manager’s car had coasted down the hill after being hit by the Cadillac (The parking lot sits on a hill, so it’s a very visible slope), with the transmission damaged, and slammed into another vehicle parked in front of the store’s doors.

Several people went running after the woman in the Cadillac, but the crippled vehicle was already limping out of the parking lot and onto Maple, leaking all sorts of fluid. How the police didn’t catch her, i’m still puzzled to this day.

The next day, however, things got quite……interesting.

I had opened the next day after the Cadillac CTS incident, and once more, I was bagging groceries, this time for an elderly lady. Around 11:00, this lawyer came racing in, literally purple in the face, grabbed one of the baggers next to me, and slammed him to the floor. A team lead grtied grabbing him and he shoved her away from him, spraining her ankle in the process. So now that’s two employees injured buy this guy. I stared at him, daring him to lay one finger on me. I was going to turn this guy into soup if he did.

This guy began jumping up and down, screaming and foaming and ranting. The already frustrated manager was upstairs, looking at the scene from the balcony.

Lawyer: “YOU BROKE MY CADILLAC!!!!!! I’M GONNA HAVE YOU ALL REPRIMANDED!!!! YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR MY CADILLAC!!!! I HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO OWN YOU PEOPLE, YOUR ENTIRE FAMILIES, AND THIS STORE!!!! I WANT MY CADILLAC REPAIRED RIGHT NOW!!!!!

The lawyer then proceeded to push over a water bottle display, and some fruits, vegetables, and cakes and pies, all the while screaming about his Cadillac. I’m like, what Cadillac?

And then it hit me: Yesterday. The woman that came in was driving a Cadillac. I slipped off outside to take a look, and there it was, in all it’s wrecked glory, the black CTS.

And then I see HER…..the cause of all this madness…..waltzing into the store, dressed like Cruella De Ville.

Apparently someone had called a wrecker, and the vehicle was being towed off, because at that moment, the lawyer came out screaming in rage. His face was now an eggplant type color.

Lawyer: THAT’S MY CAAAAAAARRRR, THAT’S MY CAAAAAAARRR!!!!

Now he’s coming back in a homicidal rage.

The woman (His wife) hangs her head and tearfully said something…I wasn’t close enough to hear.

I backed away and fled, only to hear a solid slap and an enraged “WHAAAAATTTT!!!!!

So the guy is a wife beating lawyer.

Lawyer: “YOU DID WHAAAAAAAAAT!!!!!

He slaps her again.

Lawyer: “YOU COME HERE, WRECK MY CAR, BLAME IT ON SOME LOWLY RETARD OF A BAGGER, AND EXPECT ME NOT TO FIND OUT THE TRRUTH, YOU SORRY C*NT OF A WH*RE”

Another slap

Apparently she had went home and lied on us baggers. A line of carts rolling down a hill can’t make a car look like it’s been in a 20 car pileup!!!!! Damage can occur, but not on that scale. True fact.

The lawyer is now manhandling this woman, beating her with his fists across the store. Several other customers tried pulling him off her, and he simply beat them too. Finally, he produces a pistol, and the police are called (The police, they’re literally around the corner)

The police show up, and the guy is pistol whipping his wife, the poor woman is unrecognizable. The guy is subdued by six officers after waving his pistol at them and surrounding customers.

Guess who had to clean up the aftermath (blood included)?

(At the pizza delivery place where I work, when customers order online, there is a system that shows them the progress of their order, from cooking to dispatch as we do it in the kitchen. It does this automatically, but occasionally, it stops working and needs someone to press a button to start it, but depending on how busy we are, we don’t always notice. It doesn’t affect the order but some customers seem to rely on it. One night, I get a call from our delivery driver who says he has a customer who won’t pay for her order.)

Driver: “She won’t accept the pizza; she says it’s not hers as hers hasn’t been made yet.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you that the order the driver has in his hands is exactly what you ordered.”

Customer: “I’m telling you, my pizza hasn’t even been put into the oven yet!”

Me: “Ma’am, I cooked the pizza myself and boxed it and handed it to the driver who is at your door right now.”

Customer: “Now I know you’re lying! You didn’t say you had gone through quality control before you dispatched the pizza!”

Me: “Ma’am, please confirm what you ordered and what time you ordered it for me.”

Customer: “I ordered an XL deep-pan meat feast with extra cheese at 8:30 pm.”

Me: “And who did you speak to when you ordered the pizza?”

Customer: “No one. I did it online.”

Me: *suddenly catching on* “And do you have the progress screen on your computer now, ma’am?”

Customer: “Yes, and I can see you haven’t even started my order!”

(I check my screen and sure enough, the button to start the progress needs pushing. I push it and the computer rushes through each stage until it is marked as dispatched. This takes about ten seconds.)

Me: “If you look on your screen now, you’ll see I have expedited your order and it’s been dispatched to you. The driver has your pizza for you now, ma’am. We’re sorry about the delay.”

Customer: *takes pizza from driver* “That’s okay. I appreciate the quick delivery!”

(I find a box set video game from a well-known online marketplace that I have been after for a while. It recently went on sale, so I decide to treat myself. I live in a block of flats with a communal mailbox area, rather than each apartment having a letter box. This occasionally leads to delivery people putting post or packages into the mailbox that has the same number as the building — e.g. the building address is 111, and there is also an apartment 111 — so I always make a point to write in the notes which mailbox to use, even though it should be clear enough in the address. A few days later, on Friday, I get a notification saying it has been delivered, and when I get home I excitedly check my mailbox. Surprisingly — or maybe not so much — it isn’t there, so I peek through the mail slot of the other mailbox, and sure enough, I can see it in there. I text my neighbour, who agrees to pass it to me when they get home, but that won’t be until Monday. In the meantime, I call the customer service for the online marketplace.)

Agent: “[Online Marketplace], how can I help you?”

Me: “Hi, I ordered an item and it has been posted in my neighbour’s post box. He won’t be back until after the weekend, so I can’t get it. It wouldn’t have happened if the driver had just read the actual address, so I would like you to pass the message along.”

Agent: “So, I see it says the package was delivered, but you didn’t get it.”

Me: “Well, I sort of did. I just can’t physically reach it without breaking into my neighbour’s mailbox.”

Agent: “No problem. I will arrange a replacement to be sent out to you. You should get it tomorrow. I apologise for the inconvenience.”

Me: “What? No, you don’t need to do that! I just have to wait a few days, that’s all. I just wanted to pass along the message to stop it happening again.”

Agent: “Oh, no, ma’am, this is a clear failure to deliver as it was not delivered to you. I’ve already authorised the redeliver for you.”

Me: “Oh, well, then, how do I sent the other one back?”

Agent: “No need. It wasn’t delivered to your address, so the failure is ours.”

Me: “Okay… thanks?”

(I hung up, slightly baffled. The next day, I got my game as promised — they sent it overnight — and after the weekend, I got the original order from my neighbour. I was worried that if I tried to return the game they would refund me, so I just gave the spare game to a friend who had also been eyeing it!)