I’m stacking beer. There are four stacks of beer beside me, each six feet high. A customer walks up to me:

Customer: “Do you sell beer?”

Me: “Nope. This beer is just to show what it would look like if we did sell beer, but we actually do not.”

Customer: “Ah, bummer.” *Leaves.*

Boss: *Walking over.* “You know, I was about to walk over here and give you a grilling for talking to a customer like that, but then he replied, and I figured either he’s trolling you, or he’s genuinely that stupid, and I no longer blame you for saying what you said. Maaaaaybe don’t do it again, though.”

I used to work part-time in a liquor store in Oklahoma. On Sundays and holidays, it is state law that we are closed. We’re in the store on Memorial Day doing inventory when a customer shows up at the door, which, of course, is locked.

Customer: *Yanking on the door handle, shouting through the glass.* “Hey! The door is stuck!”

Me: “It’s not stuck, it’s locked! We’re closed on holidays!”

Customer: “C’mon, just sell me some beers!”

Me: “Come back tomorrow, sir. We can’t legally open today.”

Customer: “Then why are you all in there, huh?! You’re in the store, so you’re legally obligated to let me in and make a purchase!”

Me: “No, sir, we’re not. We’re in here doing inventory. Come back tomorrow.”

Customer: *Yanking on the door handle harder, shouting louder.* “You don’t get to tell me when to come back! Let me in!”

Me: “Stop doing that or I’m calling the cops.”

Customer: “Call ’em! They’ll tell you that since you’re in the store, you’re legally obligated to let me in and make a purchase!”

So, I called the cops, and it’s a good thing I did because he managed to break the door’s locks (cheap and old) and open the door. He’s in the store demanding we make a sale when the police arrive. We ask them to arrest him.

Officer: *Talking to the customer as he’s walking him away.* “Don’t you know it’s illegal to sell alcohol today?”

Customer: “Well, I didn’t buy any booze, so I’m not breaking any laws!”

Me: *With a smile.* “But, sir, you are in the store, so the police are legally obligated to arrest you.”

I am blind and have a guide dog. My husband and I go into a liquor store.

Clerk: “NO DOGS!”

Husband: “That’s her guide dog. She’s blind.”

Clerk: “No. Dogs.”

Husband: “He’s literally the most commonly recognised service dog.”

Me: “He’s legally allowed in the store. Call your manager if you need to verify.”

We continue into the store while I hear the clerk paging a manager. The manager finds us and says:

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry. That’s obviously a service dog. You are fine. I explained it to the clerk.”

Me: “That’s okay. Everyone needs to learn sometime.”

We find what we want and head for the cash register. Neither of us looks under fifty years old.

Clerk: “I can’t sell that to you.”

Husband: “Why?”

Clerk: “Because I need to see a license for everyone, and IF she is really blind, she doesn’t have one.”

Me: “No, but I do have a state ID. You can use that.”

Clerk: “It has to be a license.”

Husband: “Call your manager now.”

Clerk: “Nope. I’m refusing service.”

Another customer overhears this and finds the manager. He comes up, gets the explanation of the problem, and seems confused.

Manager: “Have you been refusing to sell to people with state IDs instead of licenses?”

Clerk: “Only a driver’s license is valid.”

Manager: “No, only state IDs or federal IDs are valid. Driving is not necessary, just being 21 or older.”

Clerk: “You are going to get me fined for not getting proper ID! I’m not selling to a blind woman who can’t drive.”

The manager took a moment to reboot his brain. Then he sent the clerk to take out the trash and took over the register. He assured me that there was going to be a lot of retraining in his future. As he’s bagging up our purchase, I hear him mumbling.

Manager: “I guess I should just be glad he didn’t insist the dog was underage and didn’t have a driver’s license.”

My manager is talking to an angry woman at the front of the store. Her voice gets heated, so they step outside on the sidewalk, where I see this woman literally stomp her foot, shout some more, and point at the CCTV cameras we have above the door.

I then see the manager escort the woman into his office, where I hear her grumble for a few minutes before shouting again and storming out. My manager comes out of the office, laughing.

Me: “What was all that about?”

Manager: “So last night we had some underage girl from the college try to buy liquor with a fake ID. She’s the mother, and she came to tell us that we made a mistake.”

Me: “So she wasn’t underage?”

Manager: “Oh, she definitely was. Y’see, the girl’s ID was fake, like hilariously fake, so I confiscated it. The mom came by to tell us it was real, so I showed her the footage from last night.”

Me: “The footage of… you turning her away?”

Manager: “This mother just watched footage of her daughter try to use a fake ID, have that fake ID confiscated, then of her daughter insisting it was real, call the police herself, ha, I even let her use our phone, to do it, waiting outside for them, seeing he cops arrive, talking to her, then to me, taking one look at the fake ID, and then putting her in handcuffs.”

Me: “Oh… wow. I shouldn’t have taken yesterday off! Sounds hilarious.”

Manager: “Yeah, the mom didn’t really have an argument after all that. She left to go bail her daughter out now. That’ll be an interesting car ride home…”

CORRECTION: A typo has been corrected.

We had a father and daughter come in. Regrettably, it was pretty busy, so nobody ID’d them on the floor while they were shopping. I had seen the girl just prior to arriving at the checkout, picking things out.

When they arrived, I asked her for ID.

Father: “Oh, I’m buying it.”

I think anyone who works in liquor knows/hates those words, as it means you’re about to get into a big argument. Working in this industry, you sort of get hardened to people getting upset as you’re constantly refusing people, dealing with alcoholics, and thieves. In 99% of situations, it doesn’t affect me one bit, but the parent/child combo approaching my reg still sets me on edge. They are, by far, the worst kinds of customers.

Me: “You may be buying it, but as she was picking it out herself, I’d need to see her ID as well.”

She looked panicked, so I already knew she wasn’t eighteen.

Father: “She’s… seventeen.”

Me: “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to sell any of this to you today.”

Father: *Angrily.* “I don’t understand, I’m buying it though.”

I give him a quick run-down of secondary supply laws, i.e., that I can’t sell to an adult who is intending to provide alcohol to a minor.

Father: “I don’t understand.”

I go into a bit more depth, point out the signs we have on the wall (he refuses to look), and give him the name of the legislation and suggest he can Google it if he’d like.

Father: “BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND! THAT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!”

Of course, he understands; he simply does not like my answer.

Father: “Fine, I’ll just send her to the car, and I’ll buy it on my own.”

He still ‘can’t understand’ when my answer is no.

So then he gives me the ‘Parent Special’: offering a million and one hypothetical situations in which he could purchase the alcohol.

Father: “So, I’d be able to buy it if she stayed in the car? What if you didn’t know? What if I had come shopping with my eleven-year-old? What if we went to a different store? What if I came back tomorrow and bought the same thing?”

Etc., etc., etc.

Me: “AND WHAT IF YOU COULD FLY? You could grab the items and float away before I had the chance to stop you! We’re not in any of those situations. We’re in this one, and I can’t legally serve you.”

The daughter tries one more:

Daughter: “But then how am I supposed to buy my friend a present for her eighteenth?”

We all know there are ways. Ask your father, he’s great at coming up with alternative scenarios. But instead, I give the answer I’m allowed to give:

Me: “Well, minors can’t buy alcohol, so legally, you can’t.”

Daughter: “BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAAAAND.”

Sensing I’d still be there today if I didn’t put an end to the conversation, I did the only thing that ever makes them leave; I picked the items up, put them back in the cart, curtly apologise/restate there’s nothing to be done, then casually walked the f*** away from them with their products.