They Just Got Themselves Trucked Up

(When our fast food restaurant closes for business for the night, we lock the outer vestibule doors. The dining room, surrounded by large window panes, remains lit so that we can complete cleaning.)

Would-Be Customer: *knocking on outer door* “Hey! I want to get a double cheese!”

Me: *pointing at window lettering* “I’m sorry; we close at 11 on weeknights.”

Would-Be Customer: *pounding window* “Get me a g**d*** double cheese!”

Me: “Our grills are off; we’re closed!”

(The would-be customer gets back in his pickup truck, peels out, and goes to our drive-thru speaker.)

Would-Be Customer: *through speaker* “Hey, manager! The little d**k wouldn’t let us in. I wanna double cheese.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, both dining room and drive-thru close at 11.”

(The guy peels out again, drives up to the drive-thru window, and begins pounding on it. Our manager comes out to speak to him.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, but we close at 11 pm on weeknights. All our cook surfaces are shut down and cleaned. We can’t sell you anything now.”

Would-Be Customer: *reaching drunkenly through window* “B****! Give me a double cheese!”

(My manager manages to avoid his grasp, grab the window, and slide it closed on his arm. After the guy gets his arm out, he guns his engine and speeds away. After we’ve finished cleaning, the four closing employees typically wait outside the back door for our manager to finish the books, and make sure she gets to her car. We all are sitting atop the power transformer for the building, a 10′ x 4′ x 4′ block of metal housing. The same would-be customer returns, driving his truck up onto the curb and within three feet of the transformer.)

Would-Be Customer: “Since y’all are still here, why can’t you make me a double cheese?!”

Coworker: “We’re closed, idiot! Geez!”

(The would-be customer guns his truck, inching it towards the transformer. We scoot away, but we are still sitting on it. Then he punches it and rams the transformer, knocking it off its mounting, and causing the power to go out for our building. [Would-Be Customer] then backs up and peels away.)

Manager: *coming out the back door* “What the hell just happened!?”

Me: “Our persistent customer came back and rammed our transformer, using his Ford truck, license [plate number].”

Manager: “Well, that’s one consolation. I’ll call the sheriff.”

(Without power, our store couldn’t operate until later the next day once we got an industrial electrician to get the transformer fixed and remount it. And [Would-Be Customer] got a nice stay in jail for destruction of property.)