I work in a public library. A man approaches the counter to check out some movies. At the time, anyone who owes $5 or more is blocked from checking out, and this fellow owes $6. I inform him of this and tell him if he can bring his bill down to $4.99, he can check out. I’ve found this an effective way to get people to pay most or all of their fine, even our most stubborn “I shouldn’t have late fees at all” patrons.

The man is perfectly pleasant and agrees to pay. He then proceeds to not only pull the waistband of his shorts away from his body, but the waistband of his boxer shorts underneath, as well. He then rifles around in his underwear a bit and proceeds to give me six damp dollar bills.

I can’t refuse the money, so I reluctantly take it and check his items out to him. As soon as he’s gone, I get a can of disinfectant spray, hit “NO SALE” on the cash register, and take out his boxer-short money to spray down, informing a confused coworker what just happened. I also use a LOT of hand sanitizer and make sure the dollar bills are kept separate from the others.

Honestly, I’ll take boob money over ball-sack money any day! Unless she’s lactating, of course.

(I work in a chain store that sells children’s clothing. We have a very strict return policy, and deviating from it at all can result in a write-up. At least once a day we have a customer take issue with our policies.)

Customer: “This shirt is too small for my granddaughter, and I need to return it. She took the tag off but I have a gift receipt.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but without the tag, I have no way of scanning it to issue you a refund. The best I could do is swap it for the same shirt in another size, but unfortunately, we sold out of this one a few weeks ago.”

Customer: “I can’t return it? Well, what’s the point of the gift receipt?!”

Me: “Well, the gift receipt is also needed to return or exchange, to show how much was paid and to prove that it was purchased and not stolen. But we need the tag.”

Customer: “Well! I don’t know why you offered me a gift receipt; obviously, it’s useless! I’m never shopping here again and I’ll be canceling my credit card with your store, as well!”

(The customer stomps out, shouting obscenities at me on the way. Almost two months later, she comes back.)

Customer: “I talked to your corporate office!”

Me: “Oh?”

Customer: “They looked up my purchase on my credit card and emailed me the original receipt, so now you have to give me my refund!”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, our refusal to issue you a refund had nothing to do with your receipt. If you recall, it was the lack of a tag. Did you bring in the tag for the shirt?”

Customer: “No! I don’t need it. This isn’t a gift receipt; it’s a regular one.”

(The customer shoves her phone into my hand and I look over the receipt.)

Me: “Again, ma’am, it wasn’t the receipt that was the issue. I cannot take this shirt back without the tag. Also, you’re now beyond our return policy by over a month so I wouldn’t be able to take it back, anyway.”

Customer: *red-faced, shouting* “What?! That is not right! I have my receipt! You need to give me my money back now! What am I supposed to do with this stupid shirt? I’m calling corporate back right. Now!”

Me: “’Kay.”

(Corporate tells her the same thing I told her. She rants a little more about canceling her credit card, then spends another $200 on said credit card.)

Customer: “…and make sure I get a gift receipt, just in case my granddaughter pulls the tags off.”

Related:
The Gift Receipt That Keeps On Giving, Part 2
The Gift Receipt That Keeps On Giving

(I am a cashier at a burger place. For quite a while, we’ve had issues with kids from the local middle school here thinking they’re smart. They’ll come in and order a group order of fries and water cups. They’ll get their cups and their tracker and run upstairs where there is a soda machine that’s out of our line of sight; I suppose they think that because we can’t see it directly we don’t know it exists. I have a pretty good system, however, to really catch them off guard. A group of about six kids come in. Their order: a party fry with six water cups.)

Me: “All right! Here’s your tracker, folks. Just set it down on the mat in the center of your table and we’ll bring the food to you!”

(The group leaves swiftly, heading up the stairs and ignoring the two machines on the ground floor, which is my cue. I call a trainee over to cover my register and I mill about, checking trash cans and doing small floor-work until I feel about thirty seconds have passed, then proceed up the stairs. Of course, my eyes are greeted to a table of middle-schoolers, all but one sporting various colorful liquids in their cups. They have yet to notice me. I approach the table.)

Me: “Wow, guys! I didn’t know water came in red, green, orange, purple, and brown!”

(They all jump and turn to look in horror at my smirking visage.)

Kid #1: “I… I, uh… I mean…”

Me: “Here’s what I’ll do. I’m feeling nice, so everyone who has soda in their cup gets to dump it out in the machine’s drain and throw the cup away in this trash can here!”

Kid #2: “Hey! We paid for our food!”

Me: “You sure did, and you’re going to get that. But you didn’t pay for the soda, which you just stole, which I’m taking back.”

Kid #2: “Ha! You don’t scare me! You don’t have any proof! I’ve seen enough CSI! I know what you can and can’t do!”

Me: “I do, too, have proof.” *points up at a few black bubble cams, one that looks down the stairs, and one that covers the upstairs soda machine* “Furthermore, I’m being pretty chill, because I could be kicking you out without your food, barring all of you from eating here again, and sending this video surveillance footage to the local police station, your school, and possibly your parents if we get lucky. And how would you like to explain to your mom that you got in trouble stealing soda?”

(All the kids, save the one who has a clear liquid in his cup, get up without another word and proceed to dump their sodas and trash their cups. The final kid is grinning from ear to ear with an “I told you so” face. I take a closer look at his cup and then stare back at him.)

Final Kid: “What are you looking at?”

(I stare at him silently; he starts to freak out a little.)

Final Kid: “What?! What do you want?!”

Me: “You, too, kid. I know [Lemon Lime Soda] when I see it.”

Final Kid: “What are you talking about? I… It’s just water. Uh… I mean it’s carbonated water, but that counts, right?!”

(I lean in and take a sniff of his cup, and then I stand back up straight and stare him down again.)

Me: “Yeah, [Lemon Lime]. Oldest trick in the book, kid.”

Kid #1: “[Final Kid!] Let it go! You’re gonna get us in even more trouble!”

([Final Kid], dejected, took his cup and dumped it without a word and threw his cup in the trash, just as their giant order of fries arrived. They ate quietly, wiped up their mess, and left. The last few times I’ve seen their group, they’ve been the perfect customers.)

(I own a ramen shop. A customer calls the restaurant around 1:40 pm.)

Customer: “Hello. I would like to order for takeout, but I have a few questions.”

Me: “Sure. What can we do for you?”

Customer: “Do you guys have any soups?”

Me: “Yes! All of our ramens are actually noodle soups.”

Customer: “Okay, what’s in them?”

(I read and explain the entire menu to her. She makes a decision.)

Customer: “Actually, my daughter will be dining there with her boyfriend today and she will be picking up for me.”

Me: “Oh, no problem. Is she coming in soon? Would you like us to make the order now or wait for her?”

Customer: “I’m not very sure.”

Me: “Or, if you would like, she can just order when she gets here, too.”

Customer: “Okay, thanks.”

(Four hours later during rush hour, I am hosting and responsible for phone orders. I pick up a call in which the customer specifically asked for me.)

Customer: “EXCUSE ME! MY DAUGHTER DIDN’T BRING ME ANY FOOD!”

Me: “I am very sorry. What was your order and the name it was under?”

Customer: “I ORDERED [ITEM] WITH YOU AND MY DAUGHTER DIDN’T BRING ANYTHING BACK!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry about that but none of our guests mentioned anything about wanting to place a take-out order of [item].”

Customer: “MY DAUGHTER SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING! I ALREADY ORDERED WITH YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER I PLACED AND ORDER!”

Me: *completely aggravated* “Ma’am, nobody in here knows who your daughter is. And I don’t even know who you are. There is nothing I can do.”

(The customer gasped, but before she could say another word, I decided to hang up and move on to our busy day.)

I started college in 2001. My first semester was when the infamous 9/11 terrorist attack occurred. I remember being very distracted for obvious reasons that morning but still went to a nine am nutrition class, where surprisingly, the professor still held a lecture. I don’t even remember what she said, as we were all listening to events unfolding as news was posted. Later, the campus was evacuated due to safety protocols. 

Later that year, my father decided to surprise us and take the family on vacation to Hawaii! We were all very excited, and we planned to leave the week before Christmas. As this would be my finals week, I worked out alternatives with all my professors. All were happy to accommodate this, which was very kind…

…except for the nutrition professor. Her answer was no. Unless I was there for the day of the final, there was nothing I could do. I told her I understood, and that without the final I would have a B, which was more than fine with me. She kept repeating that my grade would drop if I wasn’t there as if I somehow didn’t understand this. I kept repeating that I was accepting of this outcome and was going to Hawaii. She was furious that my priority was to spend time with my family rather than in her class which I only took because it was a general requirement.

Go figure, lady. Your class isn’t more important than my holiday or terrorist attacks.