I work at a clothing store in a mall. It is around Easter time when a lady comes up to me while I’m standing on the sales floor.

Customer: “Where can I pay for this?”

It’s very obvious where the registers are, but that’s irrelevant in this story.

Me: “Sure, I can help you out. What is it?”

Customer: *Holds up one of those makeup bar things.* “I want to buy this.”

We don’t sell makeup.

Me: “Oh… where did you get that?”

She names the department anchor store that is across the mall hallway from us.

Me: “Oh… You can’t pay for that here. You have to pay for it inside [Other Store].”

Customer: “Well, I didn’t see anyone around the area where I found this.”

Me: “Well… I would bring it to their customer service desk. There should be someone there.”

The lady walked out one set of doors, past the mall Easter Bunny taking pictures with kids, and all the way into another store.

I never heard anyone think you could take stuff from one store and pay for it in another before.

A customer wearing leopard-print skintight leggings and a shirt that said “daddy” on it, rather than approaching me, stood in place from another department and screamed:

Customer: “Excuuuuuuse me. I need help! Hello!? Someone help me!”

All while facing me from afar. I allowed her to make a fool of herself for a while before walking over to help her lazy a**.

Me: “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I need ginger!”

Me: “Fresh ginger?”

Customer: “No. It’s ginger in a yellow bag.”

Me: “Oh! Yellow bag! You mean the ginger chews?”

Customer: “No, it’s powder.”

Me: “Hmm… well, what brand is it?

Customer: “Can you please get someone else to help me who knows more?”

I go get the department manager for the department she’s currently in. I watch him go through the same process of trying to help this woman find the product that she doesn’t know the brand of, what it’s used for, where she previously got it from, or what it’s called.

He eventually finds it, and it’s literally just a box of ginger tea.

Customer: “This is the tea I want, but I don’t want it packaged in a box; I want it in a bag.”

This whole ordeal p***ed me off. I just needed to tell someone.

I recently started working at my local electronics store, and one day whilst I was doing resets of returned computers, there was an elderly man sitting on one of the waiting chairs and asked me if I could queue him in for tech support.

It was me and, like, three others; we’re very short-staffed.

I asked him if he had an appointment, and he said no; he just told me about how he “had cancer” and “almost passed out waiting for us.” I hadn’t been properly trained just yet, so I asked one of my higher-ups to take care of him.

I overheard the conversation that ensued, and the man said again that he had cancer and almost passed out waiting, but my higher-up saw through him and said that if he’s prone to passing out simply sitting and waiting, then that’s an urgent medical issue and he should see a doctor, as a tech store is the last place he wants to be if he does pass out.

The guy just left, but man, was it satisfying to witness.

CONTENT WARNING: Feces.

This happened about a few years ago. I’d moved into a new home a few months earlier, and one of the reasons I especially liked this home was because of its nice lot and nearby parks.

Anyway, one day, a few months after I moved in, I noticed that there was a piece of dog poop on my front lawn. I looked around, and I didn’t see anyone walking their dog. Quite a few of my neighbors had dogs, and I figured one of them had forgotten to pick up after their dog. I got a plastic bag, threw the poop in the trash, and thought nothing of it.

Imagine my surprise when, two days later, there was another piece of dog poop on my lawn! This time, I saw the kid down the street walking his dog. I wasn’t sure it was him, and his mother seemed kind of nice, so I thought I’d see if it happened again.

A few days later, I was about to leave the house when I saw the kid with his dog, which was dropping a steaming pile of poop onto my lawn. I took out my phone and recorded a video. After I got back, I went to his house.

Me: “Hello, miss. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something, but I was just wondering if we could talk about your son and his dog.”

Kid’s Mother: “Of course. What’s up?”

Me: “I noticed your son walking his dog outside my house, and I saw that his dog, um, pooped on my lawn, and he never picked it up. He carries bags when he walks his dog, and I’d appreciate it if you could ask him to pick up after his dog from now on.”

Kid’s Mother: *Switching into full entitlement mode.* “THAT’S NONSENSE! MY SON WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT! ASK ANYONE! HE’S THE MOST WELL-BEHAVED CHILD IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD!”

Me: “I’m sorry, miss. I’m not saying your son is a bad child or anything. I just want him to pick up after his dog. I even have a video of him walking away after his dog pooped on my lawn!”

Kid’s Mother: “Hmph! Fine, I will talk to him! Now go away!”

She slammed the door in my face, and I thought that would be the end of things. Boy, was I wrong…

I didn’t see the kid walking his dog outside my house for a week or so after that, but around ten days later, I saw another pile of poop on my lawn. I’d had enough by then, and I went back to his mother’s house.

Me: “Miss, this is really unacceptable. You said you’d talk to your son, and now there’s another pile of poop on my lawn!”

Kid’s Mother: “That wasn’t my son! He’s an absolute angel! He said he’d never do it again, and he didn’t!”

The kid came to the door.

Kid’s Mother: “Did your dog poop on this man’s lawn again?”

Kid: *Obviously lying through his teeth.* “No, never!”

Kid’s Mother: “That should be enough for you. Now, don’t come back again!”

I was having dinner at my new neighbor’s house, and the topic of the kid’s mother came up. My neighbor told me that pretty much everyone hated this lady, as she was always borrowing stuff and claiming she had never taken it, filling other people’s trash cans instead of paying for a special pickup; you get the idea.

I finally broke when her dog pooped not once, not twice, but three times on my lawn in the same day. I got an epic idea.

This time, I used a plastic bag to pick up the poop, but instead of throwing it in the trash, I kept it in my backyard. For the next week, I collected poop from the lawn like a scientist, bagging every piece. I’m sure that if someone had seen me, they would have thought I was crazy.

After a week, I had around four bags of the kid’s dog’s poop in my backyard. On Friday night, I went over to her mailbox and absolutely caked it in her dog’s s***. I got the sides, the top, and the bottom. I completely covered the thing.

The next day, I was treated to the sight of her husband hosing their mailbox off with a look of utter disgust on his face.

After that, her kid mysteriously stopped walking his dog in front of my house…

The owner of a small company issued me a company cell phone (that I didn’t need) and felt that gave him an excuse to call me any time of day or night – work day or not – with stupid questions. He also kept giving us (those of us with company cell phones) changing rules about using those phones. One rule was that we had to answer ASAP. Another rule was that we were not to talk on the phone while driving – we had to pull over and park, then answer and talk.

So, one morning I’m driving to work, and I should get to the office about fifteen minutes early when he rings my phone. Morning traffic is heavy near the office, and it takes me some time to get out of traffic and park in a parking lot before I answer. He keeps it ringing the whole time. 

When I finally answer, he asks:

Boss: “Where are you?”

I tell him that I’m about ten minutes from the office, but I had to stop to answer his call. He asks:

Boss: “Why aren’t you here yet?”

I tell him again that I probably would have been at the office by now, but his call and rules have me sitting in a parking lot instead.

Me: “What is the hurry? Is there an emergency? If I wasn’t interrupted, I would have been in the office early.”

Boss: “Why aren’t you coming?”

I remind him of his rule that I am not to answer his phone and drive at the same time. This type of stupid banter continues for a while, until he gets tired. So, he hangs up and I continue to the office, now about fifteen minutes late.

When I get to the office, the owner meets me and demands that I give him back the phone. He says I do not deserve it. Hooray! Now he is unable to keep calling and bothering me.

About a week later, the owner stops into my cube and asks why I am not answering his cell phone calls. I remind him that he confiscated that phone. Apparently, he shoved it into a drawer, and he cannot hear it ring.

Yeah, I moved on to greener pastures not long after this.