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Alco-Popped Their Bubble

, , , , , , , , | Right | December 3, 2021

I am the deputy manager of a liquor store. In the UK, one can purchase alcohol for your own consumption from the age of eighteen, but it is illegal to purchase alcohol on behalf of a minor.

A woman enters and is shortly followed by two girls dressed in full school uniforms. As the woman browses, the two girls walk to the counter I am standing at and, as I look on in bemusement, review our selection of alcopops. Then, the woman joins them at the counter and asks them what they want. In full view of the CCTV cameras and me, the girls literally stand and point out what they want.

Customer: “I’ll have two of your large bottles of [Alcopop], too.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I have to refuse that sale unless the two young ladies accompanying you can show me their IDs.”

Customer: “What?! That’s outrageous! Why?!”

Me: “Well, I have to remind you that it is illegal to buy alcohol on behalf of a minor.”

Customer: “They are my daughters! They can drink in my home if I tell them they can, and who are you to say that they can’t?!”

Me: “Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing that they are your daughters. What I do have is CCTV footage — which will be reviewed by the police — that shows school children selecting alcohol for you to buy them. There is no way I could process this sale and keep my job.”

Customer: “This is outrageous. I’m just going to go and buy the same things at a different location.”

And then they stormed off. I later learned that there is, in fact, a provision in law where children of a certain age under eighteen can drink alcohol at home under the supervision of their legal guardian, but who thinks sending in children in full school uniform to buy booze is a good idea?!

We Don’t Even Want To Know What They Were Up To

, , , | Right | December 2, 2021

I work in a pharmacy. To pick up certain medications, you have to show a government-issued ID. A gentleman shows me an ID that is obviously fake. His picture is squished from top to bottom as though he just tried to resize it to fit it in the space, and the ID has no security hologram or anything else that we check for.

Me: “Sorry, sir, I can’t accept this.”

Customer: *Immediately on edge.* “Why not?”

I try to be diplomatic and not say that I know it is a fake ID.

Me: “It’s not a valid ID.”

He tries to convince me for five minutes. Eventually, I ask:

Me: “Is there anyone with you who does have a valid ID?”

He brings over his wife and explains the situation.

Wife: “Oh, no problem.”

And she pulls out a binder with card-sorting plastic pages (like for baseball cards) with pages and pages of equally bad fake IDs for the man, each with that same squashed picture. She probably has one for every state. She starts to pull one out to show me.

Me: “Uh, that’s okay. None of those will work, either. And it’s none of my business, but don’t ever show one of those if the cops pull you over.”

You Can Tow Someone To A Sign, But You Can’t Make Them Read

, , , , | Right | December 1, 2021

I worked at a very small grocery store (four aisles) to help pay for grad school. I was the manager of the restocking shift.

My job consisted of preparing the space for the delivery truck to arrive by asking people to move their cars or having them towed if they blocked access. I would then remain onsite until the truck arrived at any time from 8:00 pm to 2:00 am. Once it arrived, I would text the rest of the shift members to come in and we would restock shelves.

The signs in our parking lot clearly stated that the driver had to remain on the property with their vehicle or risk a tow. Still, many people would miss this. I became very used to dealing with upset people whose cars I had gotten towed.

One shift was on a holiday, so the store had closed early and I was the only employee present. All other stores on the property were also closed. A single car was parked in a spot directly in the way of the truck access and directly in front of a parking sign. I had to have it towed.

About an hour after the towing, I came out to the parking lot to do one of the various small things I had to do to prep and found a group of teenagers standing in the spot. I approached and asked if they were the owners of the car. One girl stepped up and said yes. 

Me: “I’m afraid that your car had to be towed because it was blocking access to the property for the delivery truck. You weren’t on the property with the vehicle, as required by our parking policy.”

Driver: “I was just visiting my brother.”

She gestured to an apartment complex across the street.

Me: “I’m afraid that the sign clearly states that you have to remain on the property with the vehicle.”

She was upset but seemed to accept it. I returned to the interior of the store. I left the rolling door for the back storage room up – a mistake – as I’d have to go back out soon to make sure no one moved the traffic cones blocking spots and parked to block access. About forty minutes later, I heard this.


I came out to find the girl and her mother standing in the middle of our storage room. I informed them that they were trespassing and directed them out into the alley behind the store.

Mom: “Are you the one that had my daughter’s car towed?”

Me: “Yes. I–”

Mom: “That’s ILLEGAL! You can only have a car towed during store hours!”

Me: “Actually, our parking agreement, as stated on the signs, does not specify any time, only the location of the driver. This is becau–”


Me: “Actually, I first found the car at 6:15. I left a note on the window and checked in over the course of the next hour before I called the truck. I’m required to clear that space by 8:00 pm as we don’t know when the truck will arrive.”


Me: “Which isn’t part of this property, putting her in violation.”

The next twenty-five minutes or so involved a phone call with the store owner and the mom repeatedly lying about what the signs said. After the fourth time I corrected the mom about the signs, her daughter went to go read them and tried to tell her mom. Her mom covered the receiver and told her to shut up. When the mom lied a fifth time, I again corrected her.

Driver: “Stop it! I already told her!”

Me: “If she wants me to stop correcting her, she is free to stop lying.”

In the end, she got nothing new from the owner. I got a lot of threats; at one point, the brother walked by later and said that he would beat me up because the truck hadn’t shown up yet, so I was clearly lying. It showed up as he was talking. The mom threatened to take me to court if I didn’t pay for the tow. I didn’t pay. She didn’t sue. Shortly after this, I quit. The little bit I was saving on student loans wasn’t worth that.

Forget The Chest, Try Out The Gun Show!

, , , , , | Right | November 30, 2021

It is early 1992 and I am eighteen years old. I’m 5’4” and have a baby face, so I look pretty harmless. I’m working the second shift at a fast food place. The only staff present are the assistant manager, [Coworker #1] (who is also a friend), and [Coworker #2] and [Coworker #3], both working in the grill area. I’m on the front counter, and the manager and [Coworker #1] are in the drive-thru.

It’s about 7:30 pm, and there are no customers in the restaurant, and even the drive-thru is quiet. I’ve just finished cleaning the dining room and have come back behind the counter to start stocking condiments, cups, etc.

This group of four teens come up to the counter; they seem to be roughly fourteen to seventeen years of age. I take the first two orders, give them their food, and they go to sit in the dining room. The last two place their order.

Me: “Would you like anything else?”

Customer #1: “Do you have any discounts?”

Me: “Sorry, the only discount we have is a senior discount on coffee.”

[Customer #1] then pulls up his shirt.

Customer #1: “How about now?”

[Customer #2] quickly pulls [Customer #1]’s shirt back down.

Customer #2: “Don’t be stupid.”

Me: “Sorry, just the senior discount.”

They finish their order, pay, and join their friends in the dining room, and I resume stocking. [Coworker #1] goes on his break and orders food, and he waits at the end of the counter for it to be ready. I’m knelt down under the counter stocking condiments when I hear the teens in the dining room say something, and my coworker responds.

Coworker #1: “Well, if you’re going to use it, then use it.”

I look up at him with a questioning look on my face, and he just shakes his head. I shrug and continue what I am doing, and he takes his food and goes into the back. During most of the time the teens are in the restaurant, I don’t see any of my coworkers, aside from [Coworker #1].

After the teens leave, my coworkers come running out of the back and start locking doors, and the manager is on the phone with the police. I’m baffled, staring at everyone like they’ve lost their minds.

Me: “What’s going on?”

[Coworker #1] looks at me with a confused look on his face.

Coworker #1: “One of those teens had a gun.”

I’m completely shocked and my mouth drops open.

Me: “Why didn’t anyone tell me!?”

Coworker #1: “He was three feet away from you when he ordered. He also held up the gun and said to me, What if I used this?’”

Me: *Still in shock* “So, let me get this straight. These guys come in, armed, and you just let me work up here without warning me?!”

All my coworkers had seen the gun tucked into his waistband when the kid asked for a “discount” and lifted up his shirt. Apparently, my brain decided to just delete the gun image right out of my head. I thought the kid was thinking he could get a discount by just showing his chest!

To this day, even though I remember this story pretty clearly, I still have no memory of seeing the gun. I do have to wonder what these guys thought about the petite girl who looked like a kid who didn’t seem bothered by the gun at all.

The cops found the kids. It turned out the gun was fake, and the kid was fourteen. We had to go to court, and he ended up with community service.

It’s Called Black Friday Because Of The Bruises

, , , , | Right | November 26, 2021

It’s Black Friday and I’m standing at the customer service desk. Our store has decided to try to space out sales this year. For example, from six to eight, women’s T-shirts, camping equipment, and video games are on sale. From eight to ten, baby clothes, toys, and candy are on sale. This is intended to keep people spread out so that the whole store is not mobbed, and people can plan their shopping accordingly.

Around 6:30 am, right after our sales began, a man built like a brick wall comes up to the desk carrying a bike with training wheels.

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “This bike isn’t on sale.”

He points to the Black Friday ad on the wall.

Customer: “But your ad says it is.”

Me: “The bike sales are at ten; that’s why it’s not coming up at the sale price.”

Customer:No, it’s [sale price] because that’s what your ad says.”

Me: “At ten.”

He begins flexing his muscles and rotating his shoulders.

Customer: “This. Bike. Is. On. Sale.”

Me: “At ten. Is there anything else?”

Customer: *Picks up the bike with one hand* “Sell me this bike or I will throw it at your f****** head.”

Me: “You can leave, sir.”

Customer: “F*** you, you low-life c***.”

Though my heart was beating out of my chest, I walked calmly into the back office and locked the door, watching on the CCTV as I called for security. The man threw the bike at the door, screaming and swearing. Our local police officers were on site that night — because, you know, big sales make people crazy — and came to remove the man from the store. It took several of them to get him out of the store, and only after he had been pepper-sprayed, wrestled to the ground, and cuffed did he leave.