I use a free/gifting website particularly for furniture I can repair or repaint rather than buy new. If we want to change for something else, it goes back on the same site for the next person. It has worked pretty well in the past.

Buyer: “Is this still available?”

Me: “Yes, still available; collection is from [place].”

Buyer: “You painted it?”

Me: “Yes, it’s finished in anthracite grey.”

Buyer: “You can paint it white?”

Me: “No, I won’t repaint it. Take it or leave it. Collection is from [place], no holding.”

Buyer: “You deliver?”

I decide to completely ignore him and his pestering about delivery that follows. Thankfully someone else messages me, arranges collection, and shows up. I mark the item as “sold” only for the guy to appear again.

Buyer: “Why is this sold?”

Buyer: “You deliver to me.”

Buyer: “Hello?”

Buyer: “You scam me.”

I work in a store that sells both food and clothing. The food hall and clothing section are next to each other and connect directly but are manned by two different departments.

Our store closes at 6:00 pm. Announcements are played ten minutes before and at closing time. When 6:00 pm arrives, we make sure the food hall is cleared of customers and then lock the door.

About fifteen minutes later, a colleague approaches me.

Colleague: “There’s still a customer in the store.”

I wonder how on Earth we missed him. I go find him, and he is on his phone talking loudly about how “no one will help him.”

Me: “Hello, sir, come with me and I’ll let you out.”

Rather than trying to find the keyholder, I decide to let him out through the staff exit. I swipe my card and walk through the first door, the customer following me. Just as I am about to open the second door…

Customer: “Are you a manager?”

Me: “No, I’m not, but I can let you out—”

Customer: “Why won’t anyone help me?”

Me: “I am, sir, and—”

The customer cuts me off and starts ranting. Apparently, he bought £110 worth of clothes and put them in a bag, then left the bag on the floor whilst he went to look at something else. When he came back, the bag of clothes was gone. He is furious about this, saying that a member of staff stole them and that he wants every staff member searched, and to check the CCTV. I have no authority to do either, but I try to calm him down, to no avail.

Me: “Do you need a manager?”

Customer: “Yes! I can’t believe this! I’ll wait here while you get one!”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I can’t leave you on this side of the staff door. You’ll have to come back onto the shop floor with me.”

So, back we go, and luckily, a manager appears and deals with the customer. I head back to my colleagues, and some of the clothing colleagues are there, too. All are talking about this customer.

Clothing Colleague: “He came over to us and started ranting. We got a manager who tried to see if anyone who had access to the CCTV was still in the store, but because he wasn’t being helped immediately, he headed your way.”

Eventually, the customer leaves and the manager comes over.

Me: “What happened?”

Manager: “We have no access to the CCTV tonight, so I told him to come back in tomorrow when [Other Manager] is in. He claims he has a flight to Lagos tomorrow morning, so he wanted the £110 taken from the till as ‘compensation.’ I told him that was not going to happen and either he comes back tomorrow or he contacts head office. He stormed off.”

The CCTV was checked the following day and there was no bag of clothes anywhere on the shop floor. And surprise, surprise, the customer never came back. 

We suspect he deliberately came in at closing time knowing we wouldn’t be able to do anything, so then we would just give him the money to get rid of him. Unluckily for him, his little scam didn’t work! But even if it was genuine, who on Earth would leave a bag of clothes unattended like that? If this had been in a railway station, the bomb squad would have been called!

I work in a small corner shop. After a long-ish wait in line, some guy has apparently become so bored that he’s decided to put all his loose change in his mouth.

When it’s his turn, he looks really embarrassed and sheepish when he spits all of it out into his hand. I’m disgusted on various levels.

The only upside is that it is the exact amount.

I am waiting in line for sports cards at my local [Store]. It is right after open, about 7:15. There are about five of us in line standing adjacent to the women’s clothes because that’s where they stock the cards. None of us are wearing blue vests, yellow vests, or anything that looks remotely professional or remotely like a [Store] uniform. And we all have our own carts, we have hats on, one guy has a tiny camping chair… I cannot stress how little we look like we are on the clock at [Store].

A guy comes up.

Guy: “Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt your coffee break, but where are the little girls’ panties?”

I process, probably slowly, that a grown man just loudly asked another grown man where the girls’ panties are.

Me: “Uhh, I don’t know. There are swimsuits right over there, I guess. Probably somewhere around there.”

Guy: “Okay, thanks.”

The rest of us look at each other like, “Wow, that was a bold question.” Another five or ten minutes go by, and the guy comes back.

Guy: “Hey! I never found them. How do you not know where they are?”

Me: “Why would I have any idea where the girls’ underwear is?”

Guy: “Well, you work here, don’t you?”

Me: “No, man, none of us work here, obviously. Why would you think that?”

Guy: “You’re all standing here in the woman’s section.”

Me: “No, we don’t. Sorry.”

He walked off, grumbling and waving his arms. We all obviously knew he was not a pervert… probably. But we thought it was odd to have a guy with a beard ask, completely unabashedly, where the little girls’ panties were. And how hard is it to find them, honestly? You find little girls’ clothes, and they’re around there.

I work at a retailer where the registers are right by the entrance/exit. The cashier closest to the door is supposed to greet customers as they enter the store. One evening, I am just about to total a woman’s order when a man comes through the door.

Me: “Hello, sir, welcome to [Store].”

He walks toward me, staring at my face.

Man: “You. It’s you.”

Me: *Nervous* “Um. If you need help, there are—”

Man: “You have such nice skin.”

Me: “Okay, then. Have a nice day.”

He stands just a foot from my side and continues staring at my cheek for what feels like forever before walking away. The woman at the register stares at me, wide-eyed.

Me: “Um. Sorry about that. We’re supposed to greet people as they come in. I wasn’t expecting… that.”

Woman: “Nobody expects to meet Buffalo Bill, honey. Don’t walk to your car by yourself tonight, okay?”

The woman talked to my manager, who agreed to walk with me that night. It was several hours before I left and I had to fight the urge to look over my shoulder every few minutes, expecting him to be there.