(I work at a typically quaint little shop that sells various Scandinavian items. One of our more popular items during Christmas is our wooden nutcracker statue. On this particular day, we get a woman who bought three such nutcrackers the day before and is complaining that they were all broken when she got them home.)

Customer: “This is disgraceful! That you would willing to sell such cheap, third-world products at such inflated prices! I can’t believe this! You’ve ruined our Christmas!”

(She continues berating me while I check the nutcrackers and find all of them are missing their jaws. One has the broken piece in the box with it, but the other two don’t have anything. I grow suspicious, as the nutcrackers are shipped to us with plenty of padding in their boxes, meaning it’d be very difficult for their jaws to be broken in transit, and even if that were the case, then all three should have the broken pieces, not just one. I call my manager over and show him the nutcrackers.)

Manager: “Interesting. Ma’am, to clarify, you said these were broken when you first opened the boxes?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Manager: “And you just put them right back in the boxes and brought them back to us?”

Customer: “Are you calling me a liar?”

(My manager picks up the one broken jaw.)

Manager: “Well, allow me to show you something. This nutcracker has white hair, yet the beard attached to the jaw piece here is black. And if we have a look at the display.”

(He walks over and picks the same nutcracker out of our display case.)

Manager: “We see it’s supposed to have both white hair and a white beard. I know for a fact that can’t be a factory defect, since the company that makes these for us is very thorough with its quality control… not to mention it also doesn’t explain why the other two jaw pieces are missing.”

(He looks expectantly at the customer… who is now looking very pale.)

Customer: “Uh… Well… Mm… What if I told you it was actually my kid and me who broke them? That we went through them one by one to see if they could actually crack nuts?”

Manager: “I would first direct your attention to the box, right here, where it says, ‘For display only. Not to be used to crack actual nuts.’ I would also mention that we’d have happily refunded your money, anyway, meaning there was no need to lie to us or subject my employee here to all your verbal abuse.”

Customer: “Geez. Well, now you’ve made me feel like a first-rate d****e!”

(I am 19 and have bought a truck that is about ten years old. It looks bad on the outside, but I know it is sound mechanically. I take my mother with me to pick it up. On the way home, she insists on taking it to a national chain oil change store where she will pay to have it done, even though I already know my way around cars, and have done major engine work on previous vehicles I have owned. I think she just doesn’t want to take the chance I will spill oil on her new driveway. While in the waiting room, the mechanic comes up to us.)

Mechanic: “Okay, I am very glad you brought this in. It is in bad shape. It is not safe to drive.”

(My mother is visibly upset.)

Me: “Excuse me. What are you talking about? It is fine mechanically.”

Mechanic: “Listen, son. I know my business.” *he turns to my mother* “This thing is a death trap. I am surprised it even got here without crashing. The front end is totally shot. Your steering—”

Me: “Hold on. I do know quite a bit about cars. I have been working on them with my father since I was old enough to hold a wrench, and there is nothing wrong with the front end. It drives just fine.”

Mechanic: *ignores me and continues talking to my mother* “Listen. If you want to endanger your son’s life, you go right ahead and listen to him. I can give you a great deal and redo the front end for around $700. Be a mother and protect your son.”

(At this point, I about lose it. My mother is about to do it when I tell her they are lying. I tell the mechanic the car is in my name and I refuse to allow them to do any work on it. We pay for the oil change and leave. My mother is terribly upset, so I drive out of my way to a mechanic’s shop that is owned by a man I know my mother would trust. I do not tell him about what we were told, but ask him to do a quick check on the lift.)

Friend: “Oh, man. You got a good deal on this. She looks great underneath the hood.”

Me: “How about the front end?”

Friend: “Oh, it looks great. I can tell it was rebuilt less than three or four months ago. You really did good with this.”

(The other business closed within a year as their reputation quickly spread through the town for being dishonest and continually — accidentally, of course — leaving the oil caps off the engines after oil changes. You would think a national chain would be smarter and more careful in who they hire. Guess not.)

(I work in a small convenience store that is family-owned. We’re located out in the country, so most of our customers also live in the country or are families traveling. We get a lot of teenagers that think that, since we’re out of town, we don’t hold up rules as in-town stores would. A very young-looking man comes up to the counter with a case of beer.)

Customer #1: “I need this and [Snuff Brand].”

Me: “Sure thing. May I see an ID?”

Customer #1: *looking shocked* “What? Don’t I look 21?”

Me: “I’ll be honest; you look 15. But either way, I have to ID everyone that looks under 40.”

Customer #1: “Well… uh… I don’t have my ID on me, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not for me. It’s for my grandpa. He’s in a wheelchair and can’t drive.”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, but even if it’s not for you, I can’t sell to you.” *I take the case of beer and put it behind me to restock later* “Again, sorry. Have a good night.”

(He stammers, trying to find an excuse, but walks back out to his truck and just sits there, talking to anyone that passes by him. Then, a regular of mine comes in after the boy stops him. He grabs the same type of beer and comes to the counter.)

Customer #2: “Can I also get [Snuff Brand]?”

Me: “Sorry, I saw that boy talk to you after failing to show ID for these same things, so I’m going to have to refuse today. I don’t think either of us want to go to jail.”

Customer #2: “All right, no problem. See you later.”

(A couple hours go by and another young man comes in and walks straight to my counter.)

Customer #3: “Can I get [Cigarette Brand]?”

Me: “Do you have an ID?”

Customer #3: *with a confident smile* “Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for my grandpa back home.”

Me: *jokingly* “Let me guess. He’s in a wheelchair and can’t drive.”

Customer #3: “Yeah! How’d you know?”

Me: *long pause* “Without a legal ID, I can’t sell to you. Sorry, have a good night.”

(He leaves, looking defeated, but I notice he is in the same truck as [Customer #1]. It’s now an hour before closing. A police officer is chatting with me and just hanging out to make sure I’m all right as I shut everything down. He generally stands off around the side to stay out of the way, which in turn means he’s not usually noticed right away. A truck pulls in. It’s the one the boys were in earlier. I quickly give the officer an overview of what’s been going on. Then, yet another young man exits the truck, comes in, and walks to my counter.)

Customer #4: “I need a [Snuff Brand] and a case of [Beer]. It’s for my grandpa; he can’t drive himself here.”

Me: *mentally beating him already* ” Do… you… have… an ID?”

Customer #4: “Yup. Here you go.”

(I take the ID. And he looks similar to the picture, but enough to look like a brother. But it’s also law to have the person state their age aloud as a precaution when checking ID. According to the year on the ID, he should be 25.)

Me: “All right, can you state your age?”

Customer #4: “…23?”

Me: “All right… Obviously you and your friends think I’m stupid. All of you have come in here trying to buy alcohol or tobacco, and to make it worse, I keep getting the same story of a sick grandfather. Now you bring me a fake ID. I can’t confiscate this, but you or your friends come in here again tonight, I’m sure a police officer would love to hear about how badly an old man in a wheelchair needs a beer. Have a good night.”

Customer #4: “I don’t know what you’re talking about! That’s not a fake ID! You just can’t do math! That’s probably why you work here and not at a real job, you dumb b****! Now sell it to me or I’ll get you fired!”

(The police officer now steps around the corner to be clearly seen.)

Officer: “Hi. Maybe I can help?”

(He bolted out so quickly he hit his face on the door because he was running faster than it would open. The officer told me later that he was arrested after he tried the same thing at a different store, became unruly, and refused to leave without his beer. Nights like that make me so happy that I’m about to finish school and that my job field will not include entitled con ”artists.”)

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 34
No ID, No Idea, Part 33
No ID, No Idea, Part 32

(I work in a bank. A guy I’ve never seen before walks up to my window.)

Customer: “Yeah, can I exchange this $20 for a better-looking one?”

(He hands me an obviously fake $20.)

Me: “Uh, sir, this is counterfeit, and I can’t exchange it. In fact, I can’t even give this back to you.”

Customer: “I got it from my buddy, and he said it went through the wash!”

Me: “I’ve put several 20s through the wash by accident, and none of them have come out looking like this. I’m sorry, but we cannot exchange this.”

Customer: “IT WENT THROUGH THE WASH!”

(He reaches over my window, grabs the $20, rips it into tiny pieces, walks into the lobby, throws them all over the waiting area, and stomps out the door. The branch manager walks out of her office while he’s doing this, then heads up to my window.)

Branch Manager: “What was that?!”

Me: “Counterfeit $20. Happy Monday to us!”

This story is part of our Bank Customer roundup!

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Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel]. This is [My Name] speaking. How can I help you?”

Representative: “Hello, my name is [Representative], and I’m calling from the fraud department of [Third-Party Travel Site]. May I speak with a manager, please?”

Me: “I’m the guest services manager; how can I help you?”

Representative: “I’m calling in regards to a reservation made for last month on the sixth for two nights. The name of the customer is [Customer], the confirmation number is [number].”

Me: “Okay, let me just pull that up… Okay, yes, I have it here. What can I do for you?”

Representative: “I’m calling because the customer has just informed us that you turned him away at the front desk because you had overbooked your hotel, and he was forced to stay elsewhere, despite the fact that our company card was charged for both nights. According to the system, you were not fully booked that night, and we will need to be reimbursed for the two nights so that we can reimburse the client. We will also be launching a formal investigation, since this is considered to be fraudulent business practice.”

Me: “Oh, I see. Well, according to what I’m seeing in my system, this customer checked in on the correct date at 5:37 pm, and checked out at 7:21 am two days later. I’m seeing that he incurred just under $4 worth of long distance charges ,which he paid for with his own personal credit card, and we even have him down for a 6:00 am wake-up call for both mornings. It would seem to me that he was, indeed, here. Could we be looking at the wrong reservation?”

Representative: “The client did not stay at your hotel; you need to find out who your employees gave the room to, then, because it was not him.”

Me: “Okay, can you hold the line for a couple minutes? I’m going to pull up his registration card from the audit. It won’t be long.”

(I go find the registration card and quickly pull up the security footage from the day and time that he checked in. I take a still shot and print it out.)

Me: “Hi! Thanks so much for holding.”

Representative: “Mm-hm.”

Me: “So, from what I’m seeing here, this customer signed his registration card on the three spots indicated at the time of check-in. He also filled out his full address and vehicle information on the front, and provided his credit card for incidentals, which he verified by inputting his PIN. The credit card number ends in [numbers], and the expiry date is [date]. Would that by any chance be the same card the customer used to pay you for his reservation?”

Representative: *pause* “It does appear to be the same number. His card could have been stolen, though. This customer has provided me with a receipt from the other hotel where he stayed; why would he stay somewhere else if he stayed at your hotel?”

Me: “I’m not sure, sir. I can fax you his signed registration card so that you can see his signature. I also took the liberty of printing out a screen shot from our front desk security camera, which shows him checking in.”

Representative: “That would be great. I have a copy of his driver’s license and credit card here, so I can compare the pics and signature to prove he wasn’t there!”

Me: “Okay. You do that. What is the best number to fax this to?”

(He gives me the number, I fax it over, and we shoot the breeze about the weather, etc. About two minutes later, he gets the fax.)

Representative: “All right, I got it. Now, the signature on your registration card…”

Me: “Yes?”

Representative: “Um…” *clears his throat* “It would appear that this client did, in fact, sign this document. The picture matches, too; he was there.”

Me: “Yes, as I said, he was here. We wouldn’t give away a prepaid room to some random person; we have more respect for our business than that, and none of my staff are that dishonest.”

Representative: *clears throat* “Well, the document he sent me is mostly handwritten, and at closer look it appears to be fake. I will have to contact the other hotel to confirm that he was there and I will, uh, get back to you.”

(I never heard from the rep again. What a waste of ten minutes.)