(I work with patients at an eye specialist, checking vision and administering eye drops. One day, one of my newer coworkers comes to me about a patient.)

Coworker: “He’s complaining about his eye being sore, but he’s asking way too many questions about [expensive temporary numbing agent for office use only].”

(I trust his judgment, so I ask another technician to casually restock something in the exam room where the patient is waiting for the doctor and take the numbing drop with him when he’s done. Not ten minutes later, when the doctor goes to see him…)

Patient: “Hey, Doc, why can’t you give me some more of those numbing drops?”

Doctor: “Because too much is toxic for your eyes. A patient stole a bottle years ago and used it non-stop for days; it really damaged their eye.”

Patient: “Good thing you said that, Doc, because I was planning on stealing that bottle!”

(He said this without any embarrassment whatsoever! I only hope he learned not to mess around with that sort of thing.)

I used to work in a car stereo shop. We had a reputation for electrical work; mechanics in the area would often refer tricky stuff to us because we were the only ones who had the equipment and knowledge to figure it out.

One day we received a call saying that they were referring a customer to us with questions about a GPS tracker.

After a short discussion, it became clear that the customer was trying to find out if a tracker had been somehow installed in her car. Apparently, her crazy ex had been stalking her all over town… just happening to appear wherever she was, even at places where he should have had no idea that she was even there.

I had never seen someone look so scared; she was pale as a ghost and her voice shook when she spoke. She was so terrified that she was literally looking over her shoulder every few seconds and speaking in whispers. 

I gave a cursory inspection at the easy spots in the parking lot. There was nothing under the wheel, nothing on the roof or under the chassis, nothing in the engine compartment, and nothing under or in the seats. There was no factory GPS, no On-Star, nothing that would track her. 

I told her that I didn’t see anything in the typical spots, but if he had somehow managed to have access to her vehicle for a good block of time, then God knows where it could be. 

I told her that I would have to do a shop charge to go deeper. For $75 an hour, we’d look anywhere and for as long as she wanted.

She paid for two hours of inspection without blinking. We took the whole dash apart, dropped the headliner, pulled a bunch of interior panels, flashlight and mirrored the chassis, and generally tore the thing apart. We couldn’t find a single wire out of place anywhere. The whole thing looked totally stock and untouched. (After a while in the industry, you can tell if you’re the first to remove a panel.)

I handed her the keys and reviewed what we did and where we looked as I walked her back to her car. She looked so relieved to finally know there was nothing on her vehicle.

Then, her ex drove by our lot, staring her down. He wasn’t even subtle; he was practically hanging out the window, staring at her like a hawk stares at a fat mouse.

That was my holy-s*** moment: watching this guy blatantly cruise past our business. I’m a big guy, and he didn’t even spare me a glance.

She just burst into tears, practically diving behind me to hide. One of my coworkers came sprinting over to us and said that that vehicle had cruised past three times already, and this was his fourth pass in the two hours we had been stripping her car practically down to the paint.

I walked her back into the store. I told her that we knew it wasn’t in her car, but that I wanted to check something that might help her.

I asked to look at her phone. 

Sure enough, location services were on and had geotagged at our store on Facebook. In fact, it had geotagged everywhere she’d seen him. 

She had him blocked from all her social media in moments and turned the location services off for good measure.

We moved her vehicle out of sight from the road and called the police. We didn’t want her leaving without some proper actions taken, or without a police vehicle on-site to make sure she got away without him coming by again.

From there, we helped her get a restraining order filed against him, and she was able to leave safely.

(I work security in a gated community. As roving patrol, I do write speeding tickets. I witness a woman driving 40 in a 15 mph zone, almost hitting a lady pushing a stroller, and ticket her. She comes to the clubhouse to speak to me.)

Resident: “Are you, uhh… [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes.”

Resident: “This ticket is bulls***, and you writing it is a b**** move. I wasn’t going 40; my speedo said 24!”

Me: “So, by admission, you were still speeding.”

Resident: “No, f*** you. You guys can’t even fix half the problems we have around here and you’re off pulling this BS. You can take this ticket and shove it.”

Me: *smiling and polite* “Okay, see you later! Also, this conversation will be noted.”

Resident: “Yeah, whatever. They won’t do anything anyway.”

(The ticket and the notes were passed on to the security chief and COO of the association. The lady was fined $316. Basically, her dues doubled that month for the homeowners’ association.)

(I’m shopping in a well-known chain thrift store. Because everything is donated, their prices are super low. I’m near checkout when I hear a commotion from the employees.)

Employee #1: “She walked out with some stuff again!”

Employee #2: “What did she have this time?”

Employee #1: “A big mirror and a few other things. She’s out at her car now!”

(I look out the window. An older woman is loading a cart with tons of stuff into her SUV. She’s nicely dressed and the vehicle is a new model, showing she has the money. I’m called over to the register by the first employee. He asks how my day is.)

Me: “Well, apparently, not as exciting as yours.”

Employee #1: “Oh, she comes in every few weeks and does this. We’ve tried calling the police, but corporate gets mad at us. We’re told not to do anything yet. It’s really frustrating.”

Me: “And you know if you try to kick her out or confront her, she’ll throw a fit and say she’s not stealing.”

Employee #1: “Yep! Your total is [amount].”

(I’m a 21-year-old female pizza delivery driver in a very small town. One of the rules stressed to us drivers is “Don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable doing.” I’m delivering a pizza to a house after dark. I knock on the door and two middle-aged men, both about six feet tall and rather large, answer the door.)

Me: “Hi, that will be [amount].”

Customer #1: “Come on in and set it on the kitchen table.”

([Customer #2] says nothing but has a smirk on his face as he looks me up and down. I’m getting creepy vibes from both of them.)

Me: “I’m sorry sir. It’s against company policy for me to enter someone’s home.”

Customer #1: “Well, they don’t have to find out, do they?”

Me: “I feel more comfortable following policy on this one. Now I just need the money so I can get on to my next delivery.”

Customer #2: “What if we gave you a bigger tip? Would you come in then?”

(He pulls out a wad of twenties and starts flipping through them.)

Me: “I’m sorry. I really can’t go in and I really need to get going to my next delivery.”

(Both men look annoyed. [Customer #1] takes the pizza as [Customer #2] offers me a $20 bill as payment. I go to take the $20 but he keeps a firm hold on it and leans in.)

Customer #2: “What’s [Pizza Shop]’s policy on drivers who go missing?”

(I’m pretty frightened as just one of these men could easily overpower me. I have to think of something fast.)

Me: “If I were to not show up at my next delivery or back at the store within a certain amount of time, they would send people out to look for me at the last place I delivered to. That would be here.”

([Customer #2], looking more annoyed, let go of the $20 and they went inside and shut the door. I can only imagine what those men were planning.)