I saw a pair of shorts in a shop window for dirt cheap, but it was Sunday, so the shop was closed. When I went back the next day, I found the owners, an old couple, standing right by the door, which I thought was perfect because I didn’t have to go in and could just point at the item. I stood near the door and called out, and the male owner came up to me.

Me: “Hi, this pair of shorts you have here?” *Pointing* “What size are they?”

Male Owner: “It’s [price]. It’s for a double bed.”

Realising he thinks I mean the bed sheet that is currently placed in front of the window, obscuring the view of the pair of shorts, I try again.

Me: “No, no, the shorts!”

I gesture with my hands near my knees where the shorts would normally end.

Female Owner: “Shorts, [Male Owner]! He wants shorts!”

Me: “Yeah, shorts — these ones behind here. What size are they?”

Male Owner: “No.”

Thinking he’s maybe hard of hearing and having trouble understanding me because of the mask I’m wearing, I go a little slower and a little clearer.

Me: “What size are they? Are they a small, medium, large?”

Male Owner: “No!”

Me: *Now baffled* “No?”

Male Owner: “No.”

Me: “Okay.” *Walks off*

I wonder how much they normally sell at that shop.

I have worked all morning and on into the afternoon. When my shift ends, I clock out and get my stuff from the back. I have my purse on me and I am texting on my phone. CLEARLY, I am not on the clock.

As I am texting, I am walking toward the front to have my bag checked. A middle-aged woman steps in front of me, almost letting me bump into her. It startles me for a second because my head is down and I don’t see her until the last second.

Customer: “I need that hat.”

She points to the hat that is on a mannequin, which is situated on a shelf.

Customer: “I need you to find a way to get down.” 

Of course, she doesn’t say “please” or “thank you.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll find someone to get that down for you since I’m off the clock.” 

Customer: “But I asked you! Can’t you just clock back in?”

I try to rein in my temper and sound apologetic.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Once I clock out, I can’t clock back in. I will be happy to go get someone for you, though.”

I walk around her, but she turns around and shouts.

Customer: “Excuse me?! Have you ever heard of customer service? I am the customer and you are the worker. When I tell you to do something, you do it! YOU. WORK. FOR. ME.”

Me: *Sickly sweet* “Actually, I’m off the clock, so no, I don’t.”

I turned away and ignored her ranting and screeching. Her rant had grown by the time I got to the front, up to the point of rude young people needing to be forced into indentured servitude to teach retail workers their place. I kid you not! Everyone was staring at her.

As my bag was being checked, I warned my manager that the grown woman throwing a tantrum needed a hat.

The next time I worked, I learned that she had initially filed a complaint on me and ordered for me to be fired, or she wouldn’t shop there anymore. 

She had then worked herself up into another rant when the manager refused to write up my termination papers right in front of her. He got to hear a detailed rant about his needing to obey the master race — they’re both white; insert confusion here — and she started throwing things while screaming at the manager to pick them up. 

She had to be removed by the police, and it turned out that she was known for this. She had a mental disorder and would then stray from her medications once she had stabilized temporarily. This would have been almost cartoonishly ridiculous if it wasn’t so sad in the end.

I work in a clothing store. Usually, I take customer requests in stride. Everyone has been a little stressed with the health crisis, so I bring my cheeriest self to work and try to keep everything positive. Certain people, though, make me want to lose my cool.

I’m minding my own business, folding clothes.

Customer: “Hey, you! Do y’all tailor dress pants?”

We used to, maybe ten years ago, but not any time recently.

Me: “No, sorry, sir! But if you need a size we don’t carry, I can see if it’s available to order for you!”

Customer: “Are you sure? I swear y’all did that.”

Me: “We used to a long time ago, but that isn’t a service we provide anymore, sorry.”

Customer: “Well, you’re a woman, aren’t you? Are you telling me you won’t go back there and hem these dang pants?!”

Folks, I’m not sure which orifice I was supposed to whip this sewing machine out of, and I sure as h*** can’t sew in a straight line. What is WRONG with people?!

I am the manager of a popular clothing store. We have a few people quit while we are shut down during the public health scare, so I need to hire new associates when we reopen.

I interview a girl with a lot of retail experience and it goes well so I hire her. She approaches me when she clocks in for her first shift.

Coworker: “I want to warn you about something and I was afraid to say this during the interview because I thought you wouldn’t hire me.”

Huge red flag.

Coworker: “There is something about me where customers think they can make up stuff about me and things I say. It has happened at all my jobs multiple times. I don’t know what it is about me but I can guarantee it will happen.”

Now I’m nervous. I don’t know what to think of what she said, but I figure I will keep an eye on her. Her first few shifts go fine. About two or three weeks after hiring her, I hear her talking to a guest who has just entered.

Coworker: “Welcome to [Store]! Is there anything I can help you find?”

Customer: “We’re looking for jeans for my husband.”

Coworker: “Great! All of our [Brand] jeans are on sale for $19.99.”

Customer: *Looks at her husband* “Oh, honey, [Brand] is your favorite! And they’re only $19.99? We’ll check them out, thank you!”

The customers walk away and I continue with my duties. About twenty minutes later, there’s a commotion at the register.

Customer: *Screaming* “I don’t care what they ran up as! She—” *points to the new coworker* “—told me they were $14.99 each and you need to honor that price!”

My jaw dropped. I looked at my coworker who just sighed. They eventually asked for a manager and I refused to sell the jeans for $14.99. I’m so happy I witnessed this because I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.

A customer has thrown a fit at the manager over us not having carts, even though we do. The poor manager then has the JOY of “humiliating her” and “making her look stupid” by pointing them out three steps BEHIND HER.

She then argues, at a volume that would impress a boot camp instructor, with a coworker that the sale on cardigans should apply to sweaters because they are “the same thing”.

Soon, the woman approaches my register and I just know this interaction will be a downhill run.

She strides directly past the line, approaching from the wrong end of the register. I’m sure you can imagine how outraged she is that she can’t just cut in front of the other people in line. She wastes five minutes arguing with me that since she’s “already there,” she “doesn’t want to have to pick up her items and go to the back of the line.”

The manager has to intervene and tell her to get to the end of the line or to get out without her purchases. Ranting about how the rules of lines aren’t laws, how she knows her rights, and how employees are NOT allowed to refuse service to anyone, ever, forever, throughout the universe, she storms to the end. She knows her rights! She knows the laws! Blah, blah, blah.

She gripes so constantly that I do my best to ring the other guests up quickly so they don’t have to listen to her constant moaning for longer than they have to.

Eventually, she gets up to me and I scan her few items. No big deal. Then, she shoves her credit card at me. I follow policy.

Me: “May I see your ID?”

She rolls her eyes and says, in the most inconvenienced way:

Customer: “Well, it’s my son’s card.”

The credit card and ID are nowhere close to matching.

Me: “I can’t use a card that doesn’t have your name on it.”

Customer: “I use his card all the time! SINCE WHEN CAN YOU NOT USE SOMEONE ELSE’S CARD?! THIS IS F****** RIDICULOUS! YOU’RE A F****** A**HOLE! YOU’RE MAKING THAT UP!”

Me: “I can’t run it. You have to pay a different way.”

She throws some cash onto the counter and is quiet while I finish the transaction.

Customer: “Where’s my coupon?!”

Me: “We handed them out last week. We don’t have any more. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

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

AGAIN? That poor man! The manager arrives, and I can see the light die in his eyes as he sees who he has to talk to.

Manager: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “Your employee refused to give me a coupon! She just played stupid and tried to tell me that you didn’t have anymore!”

Manager: “Ma’am, they were all handed out last week. My employee wasn’t playing games; we really don’t have any more to hand out right now.”

Customer: “That’s bulls***, but fine, play your petty little games. I’ll just add that to my call to corporate. Now, another thing; why won’t you people let me use my son’s credit card?! Since when is that a rule?! What the f*** are you people trying to pull?”

The manager just stares at her for a minute.

Manager: “That has always been a rule, ma’am, as that’s unlawful.”

Customer: “Oh, reeeeeeaaaallly?! Fine, then. Tell me what kind of crime it is!”

Manager: “Felony Card Fraud.”

Customer: “You’re a f****** liar.”

Manager: *Sweetly* “Would you like me to call the police and have them explain it to you?”

Customer: “You know what? Yes! Then, I can explain to them why they’re wrong because it’s never been a problem until now!”

I was amazed when she DID tell the cops that they were lying about the law being the law. She waived her right to be silent. She also made it very loudly clear that she would be suing the cops for wrongful prosecution as they cuffed her because Felony Card Fraud wasn’t a thing. And it was her son’s card, so she was within her rights to use it as his mother because it was a mother’s prerogative. And their names were different because her son legally changed his last name, as if cutting her and her husband out of his life somehow severed her right as his biological mother to take out a card in his name. They were connected by blood, and no law could override that!

The cops repeatedly reminded her that she had the right to remain silent and she repeatedly ignored them. She had no subtlety, saw nothing wrong with it, and just kept admitting her crimes at full volume. Because they weren’t crimes. Because she knew the law and knew her rights better than the cops themselves did. And she would personally tell the judge what the REAL laws were.

I was just amazed, listening to this woman dig herself a hole like a cartoon character going after gold.

The local cops wear cameras, so I didn’t need to be a witness, but I highly suspect that the book the judge threw at her had a LOT of pages in it.

Related:
A Broad View Of Fraud