(I work in a store that sells and buys used games, consoles, and computers. We require that everyone who sells us something shows an ID. A young customer comes to the store to sell PS3 games.)

Me: “Hey there. What have you got for us?”

Customer: “Some games.”

(He puts the games on the counter. I check them and we agree on the price.)

Me: “Okay, I’ll need your ID, please.”

Customer: “What?! No! Why?”

Me: “It’s store policy, and it really helps with cutting down the number of people trying to sell us stolen items. I know it’s a bit of drag when selling just games, but we buy a lot of expensive electronics, as well. There’s no way around it I’m afraid.”

Customer: “No one is required to carry around an ID in Finland! That is the law! We are free here.”

Me: “Sure, but I’m not required to buy these games from you either.”

Customer: “But I don’t have to have my ID with me. It’s the f***** law. Check it, you ignorant dumb-a**!”

Me: “What that law means is that you can’t get arrested for being without an ID, but there is still a whole bunch of stuff that you can’t do. You can’t get a loan from the bank, make a phone contract, etc… I’m done arguing about this. Show me an ID, or I won’t buy these games. It’s as simple as that.”

Customer: “Fine! Whatever!”

(The customer throws his ID on the counter, fuming. We get the transaction done, and he goes to the shopping area to look at the games on sale. After a while, the alarm at the door goes off. I look up and see the same customer bolting from the store. A coworker starts to run after him. I stop him.)

Me: “Don’t bother. That guy just sold us some games.”

(My coworker laughs so hard he has to go to the office. I look up the customer’s info and call the number services to get his phone number. I call him and he answers.)

Customer: “Yeah?”

Me: “Hey, this is [My Name] from [Store].”

(There is a long silence.)

Me: “Yeah, if you could just bring back the games you stole, that would be great.”

Customer: “I, uh…”

Me: “Otherwise, we will be forced to contact the police. Come now and we can settle this.”

Customer: *sheepishly* “Okay. Don’t call the police, please.”

Me: “Be here in five minutes.”

(After about two minutes, he comes running through the door. I take him to the office, and he gives me back the stolen game. I look at him closely and can see that he is really scared.)

Customer: “I’m so sorry! I’m not a thief. I just got pissed because of the whole ID argument and wasn’t thinking straight. My dad is a lawyer, and I guess I thought I knew about this stuff. I was stupid and wrong. Please don’t call the police; I’m not a criminal.”

(I believe him and actually feel kind of sorry for him. He is only eighteen after all, and everyone makes mistakes.)

Me: “Okay, I believe you have learned a lesson. We forgive you, and the matter is settled.”

(He thanked me profusely and left. The next day, he showed up to the store with some candy and pastries for the whole staff. Over the next months, he has become a regular of the store. He is always very polite and nice and has even been seen arranging the games after other customers have messed up the shelves. He is a far cry from the arrogant brat that came to the store the first time. Everyone deserves a break.)

This story is part of our Thrift Store roundup!

Read the next Thrift Store roundup story!

Read the Thrift Store roundup!

(I work at a retailer where we frequently sell and install car batteries. I am currently installing one with the customer constantly looking over my shoulder.)

Me: “Sir, one of these bolts is stripped; I will have to replace it or the car will not start.”

Customer: “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Me: “But, sir—”

Customer: “JUST LEAVE IT!”

(I finish hooking up the battery and the car does not start just as I told him.)

Customer: “Oh you really f****** up! You just ruined my wife’s $60,000 truck! I need to get an emissions test done; now it’s going to fail. Do you even know what the f*** you’re doing?”

Me: “Sir, there is nothing wrong with the truck. Like I told you earlier, the bolt needs to be replaced. I’ll be more than happy to do it free of charge.”

(I begin replacing the bolt silently, all while he is screaming and questioning my intelligence. I finish and the car starts up immediately.)

Customer: “YOU KNOW WHAT!? You don’t know what you’re doing; I don’t want your battery anymore! Put my old one back in; I’m going to the dealer!”

(At this point I’ve heard enough, and politely oblige and quickly go back in to help another customer who has been patiently waiting. 30 seconds later, my original customer rushes back into the store.)

Customer: “YOU DUMB-A**! My car won’t start! I knew you had no idea what you’re doing! And now my $60,000 truck is ruined because of your stupidity!”

Me: “Sir, your car isn’t starting because you told me to put your dead battery back in, after I had it running with the new one. Now this customer has been waiting patiently; I will gladly help you after I help this gentleman.”

(The original continues to have a fit in front of all the other customers, insulting me and my intelligence. I turn to the next customer.)

Next Customer: *in a very cheery voice* “Hi, how are you today!?”

Me: “Oh, I’m just wonderful. What can I do for you today?”

(The next customer looks at the angry original customer, then back at me with a huge grin on his face.)

Next Customer: “Yes! I have truck outside that needs a battery. Would you mind installing it for me?”

Original Customer: *lets out a moan of disgust, and storms out*

(My store serves a variety of health-drinks. Some of these are concentrated and fairly potent, so we serve them in the form of a ‘shot,’ although they don’t contain any alcohol. A customer comes in with two rowdy young children and orders one of our shots. Her kids are running around and shouting in the background.)

Customer: “I’m taking them back-to-school shopping today, and—STOP FIGHTING, JUST STOP—sorry.”

Coworker: “Here’s your shot ma’am!”

Customer: “Alright kids. Mommy’s going to take her shot now! At 10:30 in the morning! What am I doing with my life? At least it’s just wheatgrass…”

(The company I work for is a group of small shops located in host department stores. Managers are paid about $2 more than minimum wage. A regional manager has been transferred to my region and I am giving him a tour of the stores by car. While driving he asks me to critique the store managers in the region.)

Me: “…Then there is the Elston store. The manager there has been with us for five years and she is great. Too bad that she will be leaving in June.”

Manager: “If she is that good, why would we let her go?”

Me: “She graduates from a four-year college degree in June.”

Manager: “So? We like college graduates to work for us.”

Me: “It is not us; she will be quitting.”

Manager: “But why would she quit now after working for us for five years?”

Me: “Because she is graduating from college.”

Manager: “I am still not getting it.”

Me: *exasperated* “She did not work for us during the day so that she could spend four years going to college at night, and take out student loans to pay for college thereby going deep into debt, just so that she could stick with a job with no advancement path that pays barely more than minimum wage.”

Manager: “I am still not getting it.”

Me: “Okay, let me ask you this. You told me your daughter is also graduating this year. So when the Elston shop opens up she will be able to take over as manager, right?”

Manager: “Are you serious? We sent my daughter to college to have a bright future, not to work in a dead-end job.”

Me: “Exactly, do you get it now?”

Manager: “No!”

(My best friend and I are customers at a very large store. It’s 12:55 am, and liquor sales end at 1 am. The cashier is ringing up our items, and stops at the bottle of wine. This isn’t the first time we’ve had troubles with this particular cashier.)

Cashier: “I can’t sell this to you. We can’t sell alcohol after 1 am.”

Me: “But… it’s not 1 am yet. We have a few minutes.”

Cashier: “Nope, register says 1 am. Can’t sell it to you.”

Best Friend: “Uh, no, your register shows 12:56. So can you please ring us up and stop wasting time?”

Cashier: “Look lady; it’s past 1 am. I CAN’T sell it to you!”

Customer Behind Us: “Just ring up the god-d*** wine, and stop wasting everyone else’s time. None of these clocks show 1 am yet. Stop being a difficult b**** and just give these girls their wine!”

(The cashier huffs and glares at the other customer, and waits until 12:59 on the dot to ring up the wine. She made everyone stand there for another few minutes! We didn’t get the manager, but we’ve never seen her there again!)