In the 1980s, I manage a shoe store for a chain. This location is a stand-alone store with its own parking lot, and we are in a higher crime area, so I have an armed guard who hails from South America, and his English is a bit spotty.

A man in his twenties walks in and inquires about a job. It is a feather in the cap if a manager hires a full-time employee and is able to train that person to become an assistant manager for another location. So, I am talking the company up while handing the man an application. He turns out to be interesting.

Man: “I just flew in from Detroit. They killed my friend.”

Me: “Uh… Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Man: “I’m a cop, and I’m gonna find who did it.”

Me: “I certainly hope so.”

Man: “Yeah, my name is Axel Foley, but my real name is Reggie Hammond.”

It takes my brain a second to kick in. Wait, I think… those are character names that Eddie Murphy played in a couple of movies (“48 Hours” and “Beverly Hills Cop”). I realize this guy thinks he’s Eddie Murphy characters in a mishmash of two movies and therefore crazy.

I will admit that crazy frightens me. I am a very logical person, and I don’t know how to react to someone whose mind is all over the place. I leave the sales counter to escape the crazy and head to the stockroom to… well, hide, I guess.

This guy follows me as I am walking to the stockroom, and with a crumpled-up piece of paper in his hand, he frantically asks:

Man: “Do you know where I can get this prescription filled?”

Me: “Uh, down the street, I think.”

I look over at my armed guard, we make eye contact, and I give a head nod that can be translated to “Get rid of this guy.”

So, my guard walks over toward the guy, and instead of using words, pats his gun holster.

Well, that probably wasn’t the least threatening way to get rid of someone, but my guard speaks little English, so how else was he gonna quickly get his point across?

And then I hear this response to my guard patting his holster.

Man: “I GOT A GUN!”

We have a lady and her child trying on shoes at the time, and upon the man declaring he is armed, the lady begins screaming.

Lady: “OH, LORD! MY BABY! MY BABY!”

It turned out that the man didn’t actually have a gun. Thankfully, the dude left, the lady calmed down, and in about fifteen minutes, my heart stopped pounding in my chest!

A guy comes into the auto shop, having driven up in a car with a sizeable dent on the side.

Customer: “Please see what you can do about… that.” *Gestures to the dent*

Me: “Sure thing, but what happened?”

Customer: “My ex-boyfriend drove my car to his job at a store. After his shift, he got drunk with his knucklehead coworkers and thought it would be fun to play destruction derby with my car in the empty parking lot.”

Me: “Ouch, that hurts.”

Customer: “Tell me about it.”

I can tell this is not going to be cheap. Usually, to soften the blow, I engage in small talk with the customers.

Me: “So, why did you let him use your car if he’s your ex?”

Customer: “Well… he wasn’t my ex at the time.”

Ouch! When driving causes a break-up you know it has to be bad. We wonder how others fared in these 12 Stories About Customers Who Should Not Be Allowed To Drive!

CONTENT WARNING: Domestic Violence

I am in my mid-twenties and have been with my boyfriend since my teens. My relationship with him has gradually deteriorated, escalating from him cheating to verbally and physically abusing me. I’ve stupidly stayed with him, believing it’s my fault, and that he’ll change.

While camping late at night at a music festival, I catch him talking on the phone to yet another girl he’s cheating on me with. We argue, he clocks me in the face for “being nosy,” and then he storms off to get drunk for the night. I sob myself to sleep.

In the morning, I find a note in my shoe outside our tent. I’m filled with dread, assuming it’s from one of our angry neighbors who was kept awake by the fight. Then I read this:

“I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I want you to know that nobody who claims to love you would ever talk to you or treat you the way you were treated last night. You have a beautiful soul, and this is not your fault. Please leave him, and find someone who truly deserves you.”

I immediately packed up and left, leaving him stranded, and never spoke to him again. To the writer of the note: you will never know what you did for me that day. Thank you for saving my life.

This story is part of our Highest-Voted-Inspirational-Stories-Of-2023-(so far!) roundup!

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My aunt was a stereotypical wild child as a teenager. She partied, drank, and even made explosives and blew up random junk with her friends. Neither of her siblings ever did anything like that, so she drove my grandparents up the wall.

One night, my aunt was getting ready for a party and decided to wear a skimpy crop top and low-rise pants that were popular at the time. She went downstairs to leave, only to be met with my grandfather, who just about blew a gasket when he saw what she was wearing.

Grandfather: “No. Absolutely not. Go put a different shirt on.”

She huffed and puffed but went back upstairs and came down with a different, sufficiently modest shirt. My grandfather didn’t look up from his newspaper.

Grandfather: “Take the shirt out of your purse, [Aunt].”

She yanked the crop top out of her purse and slammed it down on the kitchen table before leaving to go to the party. My aunt is now a nurse and mother of three, and she and my grandfather both laugh at this story, though she still says she doesn’t know how he could’ve known that the crop top was in her purse.

I am at our local Chinese restaurant for some takeout. While my order is being made, a mother and her around-eight-year-old boy come in. Right after she places her order, the mother grabs her phone and starts calling, obviously continuing a conversation.

Mother: “Yes, we ordered [dish]; it’s the only thing he eats.”

The kid goes to the big aquarium and starts tapping.

Mother: “Sweetie, don’t tap the glass. Anyway, [some talk about shoes]. Sweetie, don’t tap the glass. So, as I said…”

She has to ask it four more times before he stops. I doubt he stops because she asked it; he just got bored of it. Instead, he starts playing drums on the empty chairs.

Mother: “Come on, [Boy], don’t be so noisy. So, and then, [more story time]. [Boy], come on. Our order must be done soon.”

Boy: “I want ice cream!”

Mother: “You can have that after dinner.”

Boy: “I want it now!”

The boy throws himself at the ground — not to throw a tantrum, but to just… “swim” on his back, over the carpet, throughout the restaurant.

Mother: “[Boy], get up, please? Come on. People can’t walk like this.”

The mother asks five more times, not moving from her chair and not putting her phone away, and keeps on talking to her friend. And then, she sighs.

Mother: “Being a single mom is so hard…”

I was flabbergasted. Yes, I know being a single mom is hard and you can be very tired after a whole day of struggling, but seriously… put your phone away and get off your butt!