I used to work for one of the big electronics retailers before they closed in 2009. One day, I was walking through what was called the “Merch” department — video games, consoles, computer games, cordless phones, computer parts, and weird random things. I walked up to a guy looking through the bargain bin for clearance video games.

Me: “Hi, finding everything all right?”

The “customer” — and I use the term loosely — turned around with a “You got me” look on his face, said as much as he handed me the Gameboy Advance SP he had conspicuously sticking out of the front of his pants, and promptly walked out.

I was left standing there confused as I couldn’t believe someone would think no one would notice something half the size of a cereal box sticking out of their pants.

I told one of the managers, who put in for me to get a theft prevention bonus. That left me just as confused because all I did was greet the guy.

I’m very young and have just started my career as a pharmacist.

Two sixteen-year-olds come into the pharmacy to pick up [painkiller] for their grandfather. They give me all the numbers, even their own birthdates, etc. When the script comes up on my screen, it says, “DECEASED,” in big bold letters.

I just start laughing.

Me: “But he’s dead?!”

And suddenly, they were in a hurry to leave. Should have called the cops, I guess.

My sister’s car needed new brakes as they were making that “crunching in snow” sound when applied. It just so happens that the local tire store had a coupon for a brake job. [Sister] called me for advice as they said she needed her rotors turned. I agreed. [Sister] paid the bill and retrieved her car.

Within a few weeks, the brakes were making the same noise. Obviously, the rotors were never turned and tore up the new pads quickly.

I went down to the tire store.

Me: “I want you to give my sister her money back for the brake job.”

Clerk: “I can’t do that because we did the service she was billed for.”

Me: “I’m an accountant. The mechanic shop across the street is my client. That shop is the only one in town that has the equipment to turn rotors. The office manager records the make and model of every car that they turn rotors on. I checked, and she has no record of my sister’s car coming into their shop, ever. Now, send her the money she paid you for the job you never did and charged her for.”

My sister got a check a few days later. I found out at a local coffee shop that they had done that to several people. Needless to say, they were out of business not too long after.

I work in customer service and handle all the returns. One slow night, a woman comes in to return a 13″ MacBook Pro. Normally, returning laptops isn’t a big deal as long as they’re within the return policy of thirty days. While making the usual small talk, I glance at her receipt and see that she bought it about a month and a half ago. Okay, now we can only return or exchange it if there’s something defective with it.

Me: “I’ll put in the register that it’s defective and see if the system will let me return it; some companies make us send their products to the service center before they’ll authorize the return.”

As soon as I say this to her, she starts freaking out.

Customer: “You mean I won’t be able to exchange this right now?!”

Me: “I don’t think so, ma’am. What’s wrong with it, exactly?”

Customer: “I got a link in an email that went to a website where some really mean-looking guy’s face took over my screen and started saying satanic messages, and now my computer is acting all funny, so he must have given me a bug!”

I assure her that that’s very unlikely while browsing around on her computer, which is working fine. She starts yelling.

Customer: “But that’s what happened! How dare you call me a liar?! I have to have this laptop for work to access my work email! This defect is already costing me money!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as your computer is outside the return policy, we can’t return it.”

Customer: “SO, I MIGHT AS WELL SMASH THIS COMPUTER TO PIECES ON YOUR COUNTER?!”

Me: “It’s well within your right to do so, but then you definitely won’t get your money back.”

She just stares at me. I finish putting it into our system, and lo and behold, it won’t let us return it without sending it to our service center first. Cue epic freakout. I call my supervisor over while this woman starts crying hysterically about how this isn’t her fault, she just wants her money back, that scary mean face gave her a bug, we’re so evil, etc.

The general manager of the store comes and takes over, along with the supervisor of tech support. They both examine the laptop and determine that there’s nothing obviously wrong with it and tell the woman the same thing: we have to send it to service before we can exchange it.

She starts SCREAMING at the top of her lungs.

Customer: “This is bulls***! You’re f****** me over! You’re not giving me any f****** choice here!”

Customers were now wandering up from the very back of the store to see WTF was going on. The woman screamed something about threatening us with a gun, which is when my general manager motioned to the supervisor to call the cops. Being that this is Montana, there was a good chance that she DID have a gun — or at least easy access to one. She kept screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs and added in that she had cancer and we were killing her.

The cops showed up, patted her down, and hauled her away.

I’m a professional, dressed in a suit and tie. As I’m a bit over six feet tall, I’m often asked to get things off the upper shelves for shorter shoppers when I’m shopping. If asked nicely — 99.9% do ask nicely — I’m glad to help. That .1%, though…

I have just gotten off work, and I need to buy groceries for the week. A grandmotherly-looking lady who’s maybe 4’10” asks me if I’d please get something she couldn’t reach. She is very sweet, and once I’ve gotten her item, she thanks me and goes on her way.

At that point, a man who’s maybe 5’2″ yells at me from halfway down the aisle.

Man: *Rudely* “Come get this [item] for me!”

He makes it sound like an order — no please or anything. I ignore him. This pisses him off, so he gets louder and begins cursing very loudly. I walk past him, just doing my shopping and ignoring his outburst.

Man: “Hey, dumbs***, I’m talking to you!”

I stop.

Me: “You need to lower your voice.”

Man: *Even louder* “You helped her; now f****** help me!”

Me: “She was nice and polite. You’re a jerk, so no.”

Man: *Now screaming* “I WANT YOUR MANAGER!”

I break up laughing.

Me: “When did this store’s employees start wearing suits?”

People are watching at this point. I start to walk away, but this jerk grabs my arm and tries to pull me around.

Sadly, I have a severe case of PTSD from a situation when I was a teen. I spin around and punch him his the face; I don’t mean to, but it’s a reflex to being bullied. He goes down, bleeding from his now broken nose.

People start rushing over. I’m beside myself, saying I’m sorry. The man gets up screaming about having me arrested.

I guess someone called the cops or they were already in the store as they appear in what seems like seconds.

Man: “This guy just walked up and punched me!”

A couple dozen witnesses tell the officers what really happened. One officer goes to watch the security video and comes back.

Officer: *To me* “Would you like to press charges for assault?”

Then, the guy freaked out and took a swing at a police officer. He was arrested for assault, assault against a law enforcement officer, and public vulgarity. I didn’t even know there was a law about that last one.

I found out at the trial that this was his fourth time being arrested for similar offenses and that he’d been banned from four other stores in the area. As a repeat offender, he received six years in state prison and to $10,000 fine.