I worked in a drug store photo lab, back in the days before smartphones and in the early days of digital cameras. A woman has come in to collect her pictures.

Customer: “I’m not paying for these! They’re terrible quality!”

Me: “We can only print what you give us, ma’am. You don’t have to take them if you’re unhappy with them.”

Customer: “Well… I won’t! These are not worth paying for!”

Me: “I understand, ma’am. I’ll be sure to dispose of these so that—”

Customer: “—Wait! Dispose? As in throw them away?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. We will destroy them, so that—”

Customer: “Well, if you’re just going to throw them away, then I might as well take them.”

Me: *Confused.* “So, you do want to pay for them?

Customer: “No! Seriously, pay attention! I’m not paying for them, but if you’re just going to throw them away anyway, then I’ll take them for free.”

Ah, so that’s her game.

Me: “Ma’am, if you’re unhappy with the photos, then we don’t force you to pay for them, but if you did want to take them with you, then you have to pay.”

Customer: “But I don’t want them! But I might as well have them if you’re just going to throw them away!”

Me: “Ma’am, if you want to take the photos with you outside this building, then you do want them.”

Customer: “Ugh! You’re not getting it!”

Me: “I’m getting it, ma’am. I’m just disagreeing with it. It’s like me grabbing that bottle of Tylenol off the shelf there and saying, “I don’t want this, can I have it for free?””

Customer: “Ugh! You’re too stupid to understand! Keep the stupid photos!”

She stormed out, angry that her little scam didn’t work. Some guy (husband, boyfriend?) came in later that night to pay for them and collect them. He thought all the pictures “turned out great!”

This seemed to happen every Super Bowl weekend, to the point where we had specific protocols for it. 

It’s the Monday after the Super Bowl, and a customer brings in an 85-inch 8K TV that he’d purchased the Friday before.

Customer: “I need to return it.”

Me: *Deep internal sigh.* “What’s the reason for the return, sir?”

At this point, I would actually respect any customer who just came out with the honest answer and said, “I’m an a**hole cheapskate who got this big TV just for the Super Bowl, but I don’t want to spend the money on it, so I’m returning it now that I have no need for it like the jerkwad that I am. Thanks, suckers! See you the same time next year!”

But no, they always make an attempt at lying.

Customer: “It’s damaged.”

Me: “Can you show me the damage, sir?”

Of course, this ‘damage’ amounts to nacho cheese stains near the HDMI ports, a few scratches on the bezel, and some stains on the screen.”

Me: “Sir, this looks like damage that was caused after the item was purchased.”

Customer: “Came out of the box like that.”

Me: “Of course, because clearly the factory smeared mashed potatoes on the screen.”

The customer claimed he didn’t like my tone, so he was rewarded with a manager. The manager, for his efforts, called him out on simply ‘renting’ the TV for the Super Bowl weekend, but also knew Corporate would just end up siding with the customer anyway, so he gave the mother-f***er his refund.

I hate retail.

During my first week at a new workplace, a coworker I hadn’t met before asked me if I was available for their next shift. They stated, “If you cover my shift, I’ll be more than happy to take one of yours when you need it. A lot of us swap shifts like this.” With that promise, I took their shift. It’s a bit of extra money in my pocket, and it makes me look like a “team player” for the boss. 

A few days later, my partner surprises me with concert tickets. I was pretty excited. We hadn’t been able to spend much on anything before getting this job. My heart sank a little when I saw what date the concert was on. It coincided with the weekend I was going to be regularly scheduled for. With that promised shift swap pocketed away, I called up that coworker to ask if they were available. 

After the customary greeting and small talk, I get down to business.

Me: “So, you remember promising to take one of my shifts in exchange for the one I worked for you? Are you available for the last Saturday of next month?”

Coworker #1: *With a scolding tone to their voice.* “Oh, wow. I can’t pick up your shift on such short notice. You should know that I’m a parent and can’t easily get out of childcare duties at the drop of a hat. My partner is working that day, and what I make won’t even cover for a babysitter. Maybe [Coworker #2] can take that shift for you.”

Me: “I’m working with [Coworker #2] that day. Well, I guess I’ll just take you up on your favor another time.”

Coworker #1: “Cool. Just let me know more than a few days in advance.”

Me: “…sure? I thought a month and a week was more than a few days.”

Too late, they had already hung up and didn’t hear my parting words.

That weekend, I was working for the first time with the coworker they mentioned might be available for my shift.

Me: *During a lull in the day’s duties.* “It’s nice to finally work with you. Everyone has nothing but nice things to say.”

Coworker #2: “Not a lot of people are willing to work weekends, so I don’t get to meet every person here. Weekends are perfect for me since I’m taking college courses during the weekdays.”

Me: “You’re still in college like [Coworker #1]? You’d think that with them also taking classes that they’d want to swap a mid-week shift for this shift.”

Coworker #2: “Did they swap a shift with you and promise to take one of yours?”

Me: “Yeah. And I asked if they could take this shift next month so I could go to a concert with my partner. No one else was available, either.”

Coworker #2: “Yep. They do that to everyone. Promises to take a shift and then go back on it. Always says that they’ve got classwork to do or that they have to take care of their kid. Since everyone knows they’re moving to another state in a couple of months, I guess they only had you left to scam with that trick.”

Me: “Ugh. Well, I’m not falling for that again. How can they complain about money if they’re always swapping shifts for days off? Unbelievable.”

The next Monday, [Coworker #1] approaches me to swap a shift with a promise to take one of mine in the indefinite future.

Wouldn’t you know it? I had a “tickets to see a concert.” I just couldn’t disappoint my partner again since we couldn’t go to the last one. Oh, and those previous concert tickets were non-refundable, so we were already out a bunch of money. Cue my dead eye stare into their soul to see if they had even a modicum of guilt in their bones.

They stated if we swapped shifts that it would cover the price of the tickets. I told them that I can’t be in two places at once, and I’m choosing the concert over an empty promise.

A guy comes into the pharmacy with his son, maybe in his early teens.

Customer: “I’m here to fill this script. It’s for my son.”

The prescription is for Adderall. This guy is super twitchy, and son is chill as could be. I run the script, and it spits out a report that shows everywhere in the state they have filled any of this medication. I show the report to the pharmacist.

Pharmacist: “This report is a mess. I’m seeing multiple pharmacies, multiple scripts, multiple doctors, all the red flags.”

Me: “Yeah, and it also looks like an Adderall was filled a week ago, so we couldn’t even fill this one even without the red flags.”

The pharmacist agrees to go talk to the guy.

Pharmacist: “Sorry, sir, we can’t fill this script. It’s been too soon since the last one.”

Customer: “Oh, haha. My wife must have filled it without telling me. But we need some for today.”

Pharmacist: “Sorry, sir, we can’t do that.”

Customer: “My son needs them for a birthday he has to go to today, can’t you help?”

Pharmacist: “No, sir, we can’t help.”

Customer: “But can’t you—”

Next Customer In Line: “—Dude! They said no three times! You’re clearly taking your son’s pills, get help and stop using your son to get high on prescription drugs, and stop wasting my time in line doing so!”

Embarrassed, the customer leaves; as they walk out, we hear the son say:

Customer’s Son: “We’re going to a birthday?”

I hope that guy gets help.

I’m dealing with a woman who’s furious that I’ve refused to serve her group because one of them looks underage.

Customer: “My daughter is eighteen! Eighteen! I should know, I’m her mother!”

Me: “She doesn’t have ID, and she looks underage. Without ID, I can’t serve her. It’s the law.”

Customer: “Are you calling me a liar? She is eighteen. You have no right to refuse us!”

As she’s winding up for another round, the side door opens, 9:30 PM sharp. My own daughter comes in, still in her school uniform, backpack on.

Daughter: “Hi Mum! Just letting you know I’m home. Going upstairs.”

On her way through, she spots the girl that the customer is defending and waves.

Daughter: “Oh! Hi!”

I look at my daughter, then at the girl.

Me: “…You know her?”

Daughter: “Yeah. She’s in my class.”

The room goes very quiet. I turn slowly back to the woman.

Me: “Right. You and your fourteen-year-old ‘eighteen-year-old’ need to leave. Now.” 

She tries to sputter something, but it’s over. They scurry out without another word.