Time For Everyone To Go Home

(One afternoon I am doing a bit of cleaning around the fast food restaurant where I work, getting ready for my shift to end, when a really weird customer comes up to the counter. He seems like he is drunk, or possibly high, and isn’t making much sense. My manager goes over to help him.)

Customer: “Phone?”

(My manager looks at him, confused. She has to talk to him a bit before she eventually figures out that the customer wants to use our company phone to call for a taxi to take him home. My manager eventually agrees to this and calls a cab company. However, when I get off my shift some time later, I find out that the taxi never arrived for some reason. I brush this off, clock out of work, and walk out to my car alone when I hear a voice behind me.)

Customer: “Hey, mister? Ten dollars.”

(I’m a woman, and I think this guy is about to mug me.)

Me: “Uh, sorry. I don’t have ten dollars.”

Customer: “No. I’ll give you ten dollars if you drive me to my house.”

Me: “No, thanks.”

Customer: “Twenty dollars.”

Me: “No.”

(The customer wanders back to the restaurant. I get in my car and am about to drive away when, suddenly, the tiny parking lot becomes packed with cars and I am trapped in the middle of it. I wait for the traffic jam to clear. Then I hear someone banging on my passenger side window. I nearly jump out of my skin and look over to see it is the drunk guy pounding on my door.)

Customer: “Please take me home.”

Me: “NO!”

(As soon as the parking lot cleared up, I raced home as fast as I possibly could.)