I’m a retired investigator, and this happened over two decades ago.

I was called by dispatch to a bank robbery in which the subject threatened the teller with what he claimed was an explosive device and left a box at the teller’s window. Rather than wait for the automatic doors at the entrance to open, he smashed the glass and fled.

I arrived at about the same time that a couple of other detectives did, and the EOD [Explosive Ordnance Disposal] truck drove up a few minutes later. The patrol sergeant had set up two safe zones: one for the employees and customers and one for the investigative team. We went to one of the safe zones, which was right near the front entrance, far enough removed from the device with a wall between us. Some beat officers then replaced the crime scene tape over the door.

About ten minutes later, a dude came sauntering up to the entrance, wormed his way through the tape like Spider-Man, crunched over the shattered glass, and walked up to us. We just watched as it was so surreal that someone would do that. He appeared to be on a mind-altering substance, wobbly with red eyes. He handed us a check.

Dude: *In a sleepy voice* “Hey, dudes, I need you to cash my check.”

Now, mind you, we were wearing vests and had badge necklaces. Plus, the EOD guy was in his marshmallow suit nearby, prepping his gear.

One detective shook his head.

Detective: “Bro, did you not see the crime scene tape and the broken glass?”

Another detective pointed to our vests and badges. The man shook his head as if waking up.

Dude: “Ohhh. I didn’t know what that was.”

I just chuckled and escorted him back to the entrance.

Me: “It’s not safe for you in here, so why don’t you go home and sleep it off? Come back in a couple of hours. I’m sure the bank will be open again by then.”

A big grin lit up his face.

Dude: “Great idea, dude!”

With that, he got back in his car and left.

Nothing fancy. It was just amusing.

Aftermath: the device turned out to be a box of batteries stuffed with wires. We got fingerprints on the batteries, ID’d the mope, and put it out on the news. His mom dimed out his location and he surrendered peacefully. Also, the patrolman who was supposed to be watching the door got a talking-to.

Because I mentioned this story in a comment on this NotAlwaysLegal story, and it’s apparently rather popular, here’s the whole shebang.

I worked in a fast food restaurant, and this was my third robbery in as many months. I’d been working doubles due to an especially cruddy general manager calling in every day, and I was just dead on my feet as the only competent manager left in the store willing to work. (I was not paid enough to deal with that, but that’s a fiasco for another time…)

It was about 10:45 pm, and we were getting into the first big after-bar rush that hit us when my drive-thru cashier heard a rattling sound in the lobby. None of us thought much of it; it was an old building, after all, and it was summertime, so we just figured it was the AC unit. We got through the first rush mostly fine, if absolutely barren for fried foods, so I decided to just drop some fries and make everything else to order, as late as it was. 

The rattling sound came again, louder this time, and I was cussing my way back up to the lobby to make yet another maintenance report when all of a sudden, this scrawny guy in his twenties appeared from behind the pop machine. For reference, the center of the dining room was hidden behind this behemoth, so we had no clue he was out there in the slightest. 

At first, I thought that I’d locked him in and started apologizing profusely; I was on day fifteen of seven, but I felt awful that I’d missed a customer…

So I’d thought. 

He demanded chicken tenders and all the cash in the store, waving what I (and my coworkers) thought was a knife. He was definitely high on something, and something inside me simply… snapped. I told him in the deadest voice I’ve ever produced:

Me: “You’ll be waiting ten minutes for the fryer. And I only have fifty bucks available. All the other registers have been removed and the cash dropped, and I just cleaned out the drive-thru’s excess cash before the last rush.”

I’m guessing it was due to the drugs, but he simply nodded and shuffled over to wait at one of the tables. In the stronger light over the table, the knife was revealed to be a piece of metal. I started the tenders, had my team hide in the back while I grabbed my phone, and breathed a sigh of relief when the sheriff’s deputy and a squad car showed up. 

The guy got pretty new bracelets and an attempted robbery charge.

And I made him pay for the tenders.

Related:
Forget Nerves Of Steel; This One’s Got Nerves Of Retail Exhaustion

I’m working at a gas station on an overnight shift, and an old lady comes in.

Customer: “Where are the movie screens?”

Me: “Movie screens?”

Customer: “This is a movie theater, ain’t it?”

Me: “No, it’s a gas station.”

She looks confused. She then proceeds to nonchalantly just… s*** her pants right there in front of us. As she does this, the night manager comes out from the back.

Manager: “The f***?! You again! Get the f*** out of there!”

She hurls some abuse but exits the store, leaving a brown trail behind her.

Me: “What was that?!”

Manager: *Fetching some cleaning supplies* “Well… heroin is one h*** of a drug…”

Related:
Welcome To Retail, Part 8
Welcome To Retail, Part 7
Welcome To Retail, Part 6
Welcome To Retail, Part 5
Welcome To Retail, Part 4

Our department had a free sample table that we were forced to have constantly manned. It was boring work, and we could have been doing a lot more with our time, but management was firm. Often, that meant two of us would be scheduled a day with one person to work the floor and unload the truck while the other was stuck at the table.

[Coworker #1] and I came to an arrangement that even though one of us was specifically scheduled for the table, we would switch off every hour and coordinate breaks. [Coworker #2] refused to work the table even if she was scheduled, and when it came time for the sample person to take a break, it meant that the other person had to cover. [Coworker #2] would insist on taking her break first. It was only supposed to be fifteen minutes, but she would be gone for nearly an hour so we would be stuck at the table, unable to leave, hungry, without coverage. She would also come back in reeking of weed.

I was already annoyed at her, and one day, something happened. I went into our stock room to get some scissors out of our table and I noticed something in the drawer. I picked it up and opened it to see a waxy substance that smelled like weed. (It ended up being a dab.) Instantly, I knew this was [Coworker #2]’s.

The problem was that if I turned it in by myself, [Coworker #1] might also have suspicions cast on her, so I knew it would be better if we turned it in together.

Me: “Hey, [Coworker #1], there’s something in the sample table, and I don’t know what it is. Is it yours?”

Coworker #1: “I don’t think so, but let me go see. I might have stuck something in there and forgotten about it.”

We went back together. She saw the object and opened it up and smelled it. Instantly, her eyes got wide.

Coworker #1: “Oh, my God, do you know what this is? Did you smell it?”

Me: *Lying* “No, I don’t have the greatest sense of smell. What is it?”

Coworker #1: “This is weed. Holy s***. We need to tell a manager.”

We quickly paged for a manager and explained what we had found. And just like I’d suspected, the first question my manager asked was: “Who has access to your table?”

We both quickly pointed out [Coworker #2]. The weed was confiscated and given to the police. However, because we both reported it together, we were off the hook.

[Coworker #2] came in later that night in a panic, went into the stockroom — not allowed when off the clock — and realized her drugs were missing. So, our suspicions were correct after all.

Management ended up keeping a close eye on her, and she was later fired and arrested for stealing from the store.

In the early 2000s, I had my first apartment above a pizza place and right next to a bar. Because it was downtown, the apartment part of the building was actually a security building where you had to “buzz” to get up if you didn’t live there.

This was great, at first, because we didn’t have random drunk people wandering the halls, etc., but after about a year, some new people moved in across the hall. They started getting “guests” at all hours of the day and night, and these “guests” would press whatever button they felt like (or possibly all of them) to get let up instead of buzzing the apartment they actually wanted.

We knew it was the apartment across the hall because when we’d tell them they had the wrong apartment and not buzz them in, we’d hear footsteps tromping past our door a few minutes later. So, either they picked the right button the second time or one of the other neighbors would blindly let them in.

One night at about 3:00 am, we got a buzz. It was at least the second one that night, and I was fed up. I picked up the receiver and screamed into it:

Me: “Do you know what f****** time it is?!”

Guy: *Very sheepishly* “Sorry. I’m looking for [Neighbor]?”

I calmed down a little, told him he had the wrong apartment, and hung up.

There were fewer buzzes after that, and things were “okay” for a while until, one day, we heard big boots storming up the stairs, a bang, and a big, booming voice (probably with a loudspeaker) saying:

Big Voice: “Everyone on the ground!”

We stayed super quiet in our apartment until everything was over.

It turned out that the apartment across the hall had been selling and/or making meth, and we’d overheard the police raid. A few days later, we saw the eviction notice for that apartment for the “health and safety” of the other tenants.