It was almost at the end of our shift when the dispatcher called out information that a driver had fuelled up his car at a petrol station, left the fuel nozzle on the ground — a clear indicator of a fuel thief — and driven off without paying.

Usually, fuel thieves use stolen license plates that frequently don’t even match the make of the car. Nevertheless, I ran the license plate. Surprisingly, everything matched. Even the registered owner’s address was nearby.

I told my partner the address, and although we both agreed that nobody would be stupid enough to go to their registered address after stealing in broad daylight, we still gave it a shot. When we were almost there, we saw the same car stopping in front of the house, with the owner in the driver’s seat. When he saw our police car, his eyes went wide and he froze. I could see that he honestly assumed that his plan of filling up and going home without an issue would be perfect.

We arrested him for theft, and he also had to pay for the fuel.

(I recently started working at a gas station. We were told to ID anyone who looks under 50 because the store recently had a problem with selling to minors. I’m working the register when a guy comes up with a single beer.)

Me: “Hey there! Can I get you anything else today?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Can I see your ID for the beer, please?”

Customer: “I don’t have it on me.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but I can’t sell to you unless you have your ID.”

Customer: “That’s okay. I’ll go put it back.”

(I’m thinking, “Whew, that went better than I thought it would,” and I continue waiting on customers. A few minutes later the guy comes back up with an empty can and tries to hand me money.)

Customer: “I drank this, and here is my money for it.”

Me: “What the…”

(He took the beer into our bathroom and drank the entire thing. I call my boss up to the store to see how she would like to handle this. She takes his money and he leaves the store.)

Me: “I’m pretty sure he drank that in the bathroom.”

Boss: “And that is why when we deny a sale we put the beer behind the counter.”

(We both had a great laugh about it, and I no longer let a customer “put it back.”)

(I work at a gas station that will allow customers to fuel up and then pay when they are done. Since we’re the only one that does it in town, we have a few people drive off without paying, so I watch the customers like a hawk.)

Customer: *presses button to fuel then pay*

Me: “Welcome to [Company]. In the gray [Car], you are now set to fill, then pay. Please come inside and pay when you are finished. Thank you.”

(A few moments pass, and I hear someone rapidly pressing the intercom button. I look down and see that the lady has pumped $33 worth of gas so far.)

Customer: “THE PUMP WON’T STOP!”

(I hit the pump off button and go outside to inspect the pump. Nothing is wrong with it. The lady follows me inside, talking about how the pump wouldn’t stop.)

Me: “Okay, miss, it looks like your total comes to $37.22. Do you have a rewards card with us?”

Customer: “I only meant to pump $25 of gas.”

Me: “Well, you got $37 worth. Unfortunately, you have to pay for the gas you got.”

Customer: “Well I didn’t mean to. I only budgeted for $25 worth of gas.”

Me: *very confused* “Why didn’t you prepay for $25 so you wouldn’t go over?”

Customer: “Because when you do that, the pump won’t give you the full $25. There is a method to my madness.”

Me: “Well, you still need to pay the full $37. Is there any way you could get the money?”

Customer: “If I could give the gas back, I would. But I can’t, and I don’t have enough to pay for it; I only budgeted for $25. It’s also not my fault the pump was broken.”

Me: “Miss, the pump wasn’t broken.”

Customer: “YES, IT WAS!”

Me: “Okay, miss, the only thing left we can do is take down your ID info.”

(We do this to every customer that can’t pay for their gas.)

Customer: “YOU’RE TREATING ME LIKE A CRIMINAL!”

Me: “No, miss, we do this to everyone that can’t pay for their gas. I can give you a week to pay it, if you need.”

Customer: “I only budgeted for $25; I’m not paying any more than that. You need to fix your pumps.”

Me: “Miss, our pumps are serviced frequently to make sure they work properly. And if you leave without paying the full price for your gas, I’ll have to call the police.”

Customer: “FINE, HERE!”

(She opens her wallet, revealing a large sum of cash, then proceeds to throw it at my face — the 22 cents included.)

Customer: *walks away*

Me: *to coworker* “What an a**.”

Customer: “YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU ARE SUPPOSE TO BE THE FACE OF [COMPANY]! YOU HAVE TREATED ME LIKE A CRIMINAL AND I WILL NEVER COME BACK HERE!”

(The customer leaves and proceeds to call every store in our chain, trying to get me fired. I call my general manager and tell her what happened. She says that she and the regional manager will review the tape and call me back.)

General Manager: “That lady you had that argument with — did she ever cut your hair?”

Me: “No? I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

General Manager: *laughs* “She called [General Manager at the store in the next town over] and said she used to cut your hair when you were a boy. Anyway, I reviewed the tape, and you held yourself very well. I wouldn’t have called her an a** while she was still in the store, though. Honestly, I probably would have punched her when she threw the money at my face. Anyway, you’re not going to be fired. Just don’t call anyone an a** out loud, understand?”

Me: “Yes, I won’t do that again.”

(The lady never returned, and we never had a problem with the pump not shutting off since. My manager said she was probably trying to con us out of gas, anyway.)

(I work at a gas station on the overnight shifts. It’s usually me and one other person. There is rarely, if ever, a manager or supervisor there after midnight. This happens sometime after 2:00 am.)

Customer: *walks in* “Hey, do you guys still cook pizzas for customers?”

(We sell the gas-station brand pizzas in the store and will cook them at a customer’s request.)

Me: “Of course.”

Customer: “Really? You do? You cook pizzas at this location?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “Oh, because last time when I came in, I called in and asked for a pizza to be made so I could pick it up. And when I came in…” *pulls out his phone* “…the pizza was sitting out, not cooked, just in a box.”

Me: “Really?”

(He shows me a picture of a pizza that, from what I can tell, wasn’t cooked at all.)

Me: “Oh, man. I’m so sorry about that. Did you happen to catch the name of the employee who took your order?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “How about the date and time? When did you order the pizza?”

Customer: “I don’t remember.”

Me: “Ah, well, how about your receipt? Do you still have it?”

Customer: “No, I threw it away.”

(I’m a bit annoyed, because without that information there isn’t much the staff can do to figure out WHO took the order or WHEN, much less confirm if he actually asked for the pizza to be cooked.)

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, there’s not much that I can do.”

Customer: “Is there a manager I can speak to?”

(It’s completely dark outside and there is a clock on the wall behind me that says it’s after 2:00 am.)

Me: “No. Our managers don’t come in until six.”

Customer: “D***. Do you have their numbers so I can give one a call?”

Me: “I’m not going to give my managers’ personal numbers out in the middle of the night.”

Customer: “Why not?”

(I stared at him in vague disbelief. After about thirty seconds, he shook his head and left the store without another word. I don’t know what he was expecting to happen by coming in at 2:00 am with this complaint.)

(I’m waiting for my husband to pump gas at a popular self-serve gas station. I don’t have the best eyesight and being bored I look at a sign across the lane. The title reads: Self Serve.)

Me: *reading* “Do it yourself. Ask management.”

(I look for a closer version of the sign to see what it says.)

Sign: “Debit, Visa, and Mastercard only…”

(Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t drive anymore.)