I used to work for a popular fast food restaurant and had recently become the new closing manager.

One evening, a woman came inside to inform me that her Escalade was stuck on the curb, and she needed help because she didn’t want to mess up the underside of it.

All because she had driven over the curb up onto the rocks that were placed there to dissuade people from driving over said curb.

It had been a slow night, so I sent two of my people to go help dig her out. It took about an hour before they got her loose enough to not scrape the underside of her vehicle.

A couple of days later, the smaller rocks were replaced with boulders about my height (I’m five feet tall) on both curbs because this woman, I found out later from my general manager, had called the police on us.

For having those rocks there in the first place.

And for damaging her car.

I work for a company that installs conservation equipment on people’s AC systems. This is completely voluntary (not government-regulated despite what some people scream at us when they hear about the program), and people who enroll are entitled to a one-time sign-up bonus, as well as an annual incentive.

We make it very clear that the sign-up bonus is once per property; you can’t ask us to remove the device and then call back a week later and have it reinstalled and get additional money for it.

Most customers are really good with this, but we have one “problem child” who frequently calls back with a new story trying to get us to pay him again.

Customer: “So, I was mowing my lawn, and I accidentally knocked your box off with my lawnmower.”

Me: “Okay, that’s no problem. We’ll be happy to get someone out there free of charge to reattach it for you.”

Customer: “So, will I get another check for this?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “You’re reinstalling the device, so I should get another installation bonus.”

Me: “Sir, based on our notes, we have explained to you in the past repeatedly that the installation bonus is only paid once. We certainly cannot give you another one because you removed our equipment yourself, even if it was an accident.”

Customer: “Well, why not?”

This was a few years back. Guess who called me two days ago saying that we promised him an extra check? No, still not happening!

I manage a privately owned liquor store. Being in a major college town, I’ve learned to be extremely cautious of underage buyers. One Friday night around 5:00 pm, I get a group of college-aged guys in the shop. The group is having fun shopping around and choosing their drinks, and after settling on their choices, they bring a bunch of bottles and cases up to the counter.

Me: “Looks like a good mix, guys. Can I see everybody’s IDs before I start scanning everything in?”

The apparent leader of the group steps up to the counter.

Leader: “I’m paying for everything. Here’s my ID.”

Me: “Looks good. How about everyone else?”

Leader: “I’m paying, so you only have to see mine.”

Me: “That’s not how it works. You were all shopping together, so I have to assume you’re all going to be drinking. I need to see everyone’s ID, or I can’t sell anything to any of you.”

The leader looks at me with a hint of arrogant disgust, but nobody else in the group hands over their ID.

Me: “How about I put this stuff behind the counter, and if you all come back with your IDs, you can buy it later tonight?”

Leader: “Dude, come on. I’m the one who’s paying, so…”

Me: “Or I can call the police for suspicion of purchasing alcohol for minors and let them sort it out.”

Everyone in the group, including the leader, went pale, and they started trading nervous glances. The leader managed to croak something about how they’d be back with their IDs later, and they started to slink out the door. Before the door closed behind them, I heard one of the group members suggest heading to the liquor store across the street from mine and trying to get drinks there.

Now, one important note is that the owner of my store also owns the store across the street. The stores have different names and different themes. Both stores carry all the major brands, but whereas my store also specializes in harder-to-get imported brands, the store across the street specializes in local craft brands. Being a major college town, the owner makes a healthy profit from his arrangement because very few people know that he owns both stores.

As such, the manager of the other store and I work together to keep ourselves and our boss — the owner — out of trouble. I gave the manager a quick phone call to let him know about the college group. Watching through the window, I saw the group go into the other shop, only to come back out with their tails between their legs a few minutes later and start walking back toward the college campus with no alcohol.

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 53
No ID, No Idea, Part 52
No ID, No Idea, Part 51
No ID, No Idea, Part 50
No ID, No Idea, Part 49

I’m an assistant manager in a hardware store. A customer comes in looking for a particular kind of paint, in a particular color, with a particular finish. It’s an odd combination.

The high school kid helping him is new — it is his very first day in his very first job — and he can’t find it. He fetches the more senior employee who has been assigned as his mentor.

Mentor: “I’m sorry, sir, but we just don’t carry what you’re after. It’s an odd combination.”

Customer: “I want to talk to a manager.”

That’s me! As soon as I walk up, I ask the mentor what the deal is rather than the customer. He quickly and efficiently explains that the guy is looking for a type of paint in a particular color with a specific finish. I know the product line pretty well, and I know we don’t carry that, which I explain.

Customer: *Annoyed* “I want the phone number for your corporate office!”

At least he didn’t demand that I “look in the back”!

As I am writing the number down on the back of a business card, this guy looks me in the eye and says:

Customer: “The reason you don’t have my paint is that all of your employees are mentally r****ded.”

Yes, he called my employees a disabled slur, right in front of them. I hand him the card.

Me: “You’ll want to talk to [Corporate Representative]; he’s in charge of security. Now get out of my store.”

He doesn’t want to leave, so I literally yell at him the entire length of the store, with the entire world watching, until we are at the front door. This is where he decides to make his stand and refuses to leave.

I pick up the phone, dial for information, ask for the non-emergency number of the police department, write it down on a notepad, hang up, and start dialing again. I am looking him right in the eye the whole time.

I will FOREVER treasure the look on his face when he realizes that if he doesn’t leave, he’ll be going to jail.

He then steps right outside the door to keep making his scene with people coming in.

Me: “Sir, if you keep doing that, I’ll call mall security, who will likely beat you with nightsticks before they haul you away.”

That wasn’t bluster; it was fair warning. They are the WORST security company I’ve ever worked with.

I have no idea if he called corporate or not because I did. I gave [Corporate Representative] a full report and was told I’d handled it correctly. I love working for people who have their employees’ backs, and the LAST thing you want to do in one of our stores is be abusive to employees because it will be the last thing you do in one of our stores. We’ve gotten restraining orders.

A lot of my job is repairing computers. Sometimes the customer comes to the shop, and sometimes they pay extra to have someone sent out.

A woman comes in one day and nonchalantly places a laptop on the counter.

Customer: “This is not working; it doesn’t respond to the keyboard at all. How much would it cost to have it fixed?”

Me: “Well, it depends on the damage; I’ll take a quick look.”

I don’t need to look for long before I find that the keys seem to have some resistance, and I can feel something sticky on the edges.

Me: “Did you spill something on this?”

Customer: “Spill?

Her tone sounds annoyed, and I am afraid that I might have to deal with a difficult customer.

Me: “Yes, something sugary perhaps? I’ll need to open it up to know for sure, but it seems that something has gotten into your keyboard.”

I must confess that I’m not handling it in the best way, but the way she’s looking at me makes me nervous, so I kind of leave the question open as her annoyed eyes just stare at me, blinking a few times.

Customer: “Spill…”

She suddenly sighs, and as I brace myself for impact, she closes her eyes.

Customer: *To herself* “I love my kids. I love my kids. I love my kids…”

That is when I realise that this woman isn’t arrogant or entitled; she is just tired. I can’t help but chuckle in relief. (I unfortunately have a lot of customers yell at me.)

Me: “Kids, huh?”

Customer: “Yeah, they haven’t even started school, but they insist on trying to hack my computer. One of them even got to some backdoor password changer I didn’t even know existed. Luckily, he didn’t know what to do with that. So, how difficult would it be to fix?”

We go through all the specifics, and I set the laptop aside.

Later, the woman comes back to pick it up. She has two small boys running around as she shouts and stops them from wreaking havoc; it’s like she’s herding a tornado.

Me: “Here is your laptop.”

Customer: “Thank you!”

She takes her eyes away from her kids for about two seconds as she takes the laptop, and we hear something fall to the floor, followed by complete silence. Then…

Boy #1: *Whispering* “Oops…”

Boy #2: “Oh, no.”

The two boys proceed to stealthily put a sign back up from the floor, struggling with getting it to stand right. Meanwhile, they whisper to each other, as if not to get caught. The mother only watches without intervening, seemingly ready to step in only if she needs to. And as the boys come back, they have the most angelic smiles and the biggest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen.

Customer: “Is everything all right?

Boys: “Yes.”

Customer: “All right. Let’s get to the car.”

Boy #2: “Yay! Car!”

Boy #1: “Computer? Mine!”

Customer: “No, it is mine.”

Boy #2: “No, mine!”

Boy #1: “Give me!”

Customer: “No, you do not get to play with my computer.”

I don’t know how it ended; the argument continued as she herded the hurricane back outside. But there was something about that family that seemed so wholesome — like there truly was a loving calm in the middle of that storm.