I used to work at a game store during the PlayStation 2 era.

Customer: “I want two PlayStation 2’s, two Xbox 360s, [handful of games], and two controllers each.”

My store was pretty slow, so this would be a pretty big sale for the day, and I was excited about it.

She goes to pay and hands me a card.

Me: “Uh… ma’am, this isn’t going to work.”

Customer: “It’s a credit card.”

Me: “It’s not laminated or embossed. In fact, if I were to guess, I’d say this was printed out on a home color printer.”

Customer: “Scan it anyway.”

Me: “There’s no magnetic strip to scan.”

Customer: “Scan it… anyway!”

I scan her fake credit card.

Me: “It doesn’t work.”

Customer: “Then just put the numbers in on your computer.”

Me: “I can’t do that.”

Customer: *Legitimately confused.* “Why?”

Me: “That’s not something we’re allowed to do.”

Customer: “But that’s my card. It works everywhere else!”

Me: “Awesome! Then you can use it at an ATM to pay for all this in cash.”

She stares me down for a few seconds and then walks out of the store. I spend the next few minutes putting everything back on the shelves, laughing at the audacity.

I take a call on the customer line:

Caller: “Hey, you got any spare empty Xbox boxes?”

Trying to avoid this becoming a tongue twister, I say carefully:

Me: “We sell Xboxes, not just the… uh… boxes.”

Caller: “Nah, I just need the box. I want to prank my kid and give him an empty box.”

Me: “No, sir, we don’t do that.”

Caller: “Not even for just a prank?”

Me: “No, sir, because we sell our Xboxes with all the packaging. We don’t keep any boxes back just for funsies.”

This is when the caller name drops.

Caller: “Can I talk to [Former Manager]? He’ll let me borrow one for my prank.”

Me: “You mean [Former Manager], who was fired for allowing his friends to return boxes of gaming consoles for full cash that actually contained bricks and plastic?”

Caller: *Click.*

Customer: “I have this winter coat I need to return.”

She pulls a coat out of the bag. It is old and nasty. When I see the coat, I realize that it is what I have been smelling for the last few minutes.

Me: “Uh… do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “Yes! And it matches the tag, too, see?”

Me: “Ma’am, yes, the receipt and price tag match each other; they belong to a $159.99 Calvin Klein jacket.”

Customer: “That’s what this is!”

Me: “Ma’am, you’re currently wearing that Calvin Klein jacket.”

The customer panics for a split second. I’m not sure if she realized she was wearing the item she was pretending to return, or if she wasn’t expecting me to be that fashionably observant, but she resorts to the classic customer behavior when cornered:

Customer: “I want to speak to a manager!”

The manager arrives, takes one look at the item, and laughs.

Manager: “Haha, but no. This tag and receipt are for an item we currently sell. This coat looks like you found it at the back of great-grandma’s bureau. Nice try, but again, no.”

The customer just stands there, halfway between glaring at us and contemplative shock. My manager picks up on it, too.

Manager: “Oh… wow. You honestly thought that was going to work, didn’t you? That’s sad. Well, let me help you out and tell you how this works. You go away now. You go away forever, or we call the police? Okay?”

The customer storms out, leaving behind that musty old coat for us to deal with.

Customer: “I need to return this.”

Me: “Can I see your receipt, please?”

Customer: *Disgusted sigh.* “Why do you need that?”

Me: “Because this item you’re trying to return? We don’t sell it.”

Customer: “Why are you lying?! Like, you know every single thing you sell?! Just give me my money!”

Me: “Not without a receipt, which I know you don’t have, because we don’t sell this.”

Customer: “Why are you lying?!”

Me: “Bro, if I could process the return for you, I just would. In what universe is getting yelled at by a customer a better option than doing the five-minute return process? Is your brain made of worms?”

Customer: “F*** this place! I’m never shopping here again!”

Did he shop here, ever?

My first ever job was a seasonal worker at a Toys “R” Us. One evening, a young family comes up to my register, a mom’n’dad, and a little girl, probably about five. The mom places a Dora the Explorer backpack on the counter.

I go through the usual script about rewards programs and credit cards, then scan the barcode tag on the backpack, but it rings up as a Yu-Gi-Oh booster pack (a card game) for about $5.

Me: “Well… that’s not right.”

Up to this point, I haven’t even picked the bag up. She has placed it on the counter tag-side up. I assume it’s just a misplaced barcode. Some backpacks have a second barcode inside near the zipper, so I turn the bag to look for it.

That’s when I feel it. 

The backpack is heavy. Way too heavy.

I unzip it and flip it upside down. A pile of toys spills out across the counter. Still in customer-service mode, I look up at her.

Me: “Did you want to get all of these too?”

Customer: “No.”

Then, without missing a beat:

Customer: “I had no idea there were toys in there. My daughter must have put them in.”

The little girl immediately speaks up.

Daughter: “But you put those in there, Mommy!”

The mom stares straight at me like her child does not exist.

Customer: “I just want the backpack.”

Now it clicks. I look back at the barcode tag and run my thumbnail under the corner. It lifts way too easily. The sticker peels off clean, no residue at all, revealing another barcode underneath. I scan it.

Screen: “$49.99.”

She takes one look at the screen.

Customer: “I’m not paying that.”

She leaves empty-handed, dragging her husband and very honest daughter with her.