Category: Criminal/Illegal

Christmas Karma

| Savannah, GA, USA | Bad Behavior, Criminal/Illegal

(I am doing some Christmas shopping for my family. I decide to go into the high end store and pick up some very nice items. I work at a local juvenile detention “Boot Camp” as a drill sergeant. Since I’ve just gotten off duty, I am still dressed in my work uniform, which consists of a pair of camo pants, combat boots, and a comfortable shirt under my old jacket. I probably don’t look like I really belong in the store. Wandering around a bit, I find myself having the distinct impression I am being followed. This one employee seems to be always fixing a rack or something every time I stop. Eventually coming to the purses, I pause to pick up a couple to compare and try to figure out what my mother would like. Picking the right purse for my mom, I wander a bit further looking for a place to check out. About halfway through this wandering, I hear someone say “Excuse me, sir?” Looking back I see it’s the lady.)

Me: “You can check me out? I’d like to get this.”

Woman: “You can’t afford that.”

Me: “Huh? What makes you think that? I’d like to buy it for my mom for Christmas and—”

Woman: *snatching the purse from my hand* “That’s a likely story. You probably want to steal this and sell it for some crack.”

Me: “Lady, you don’t know me; I’ll give you that. However, don’t judge a person by how they dress.”

(She ignores me and wanders back to the purses area while I follow. At this point a gentleman in a suit steps up.)

Manager: “Is there a problem?”

Me: “Putting it mildly. Are you a manager?”

Manager: “I am.”

Woman: “This bum was trying to steal this [expensive] purse!”

Me: “No, I wanted to pay for it. You know, with money?”

Manager: “Sir, looking at you, I can see that you couldn’t afford this. It’s probably best you leave.”

Me: “Looking at me? What, because I’ve got military clothing on?”

Manager: “Sir, are you in the military?”

Me: “No.”

Manager: “Then you shouldn’t be wearing that. Would you like me to call the police?”

Me: “Call them if you want. I couldn’t care less.”

(The manager then asks me rather politely to come with him, as security escorts me to the back room. I camp out and wait while the guy gives me this rant about how homeless people like me think we can get away with anything, and how he WILL be pressing charges. After five or six minutes, a couple officers come into the room. They look at me, and then back to the manager, and back to me.)

Officer: “Hey, Sarge, what’s up?”

(At this point the manager speaks up.)

Manager: “This homeless person was casing the store and trying to shoplift a five hundred dollar purse. I want him arrested!”

Officer: “Homeless? Uh, Sarge, are you homeless?”

Me: “Not last time I checked.”

Manager: “I want him charged; he’s impersonating a member of the military, too! That’s Stolen Valor!”

Officer: “Sir, you need to really calm down. What makes you think the Sarge here was trying to shoplift?”

Manager: “Because he’s homeless! Why do you keep insisting on calling this bum ‘Sarge’?”

Officer: “Because he’s my boss.”

1 Thumbs
1,303
VOTES

‘They’ Have Baggage

| Stirling, Scotland, UK | Criminal/Illegal, Employees, Non-Dialogue

I am in a small souvenir shop with my wife, browsing and looking for something to bring back home. We are the only customers, and I notice the shopkeeper – an older lady – very clearly keeping an eye on us at all times. I find this a bit odd, since there is nothing out of the ordinary about our appearance or behaviour, but I don’t think too much of it.

In the end we choose to only buy a small packet of biscuits, which we intend to eat right away.

I go to pay, and as I am getting my change and the receipt, I reach for the biscuits which I have placed on the counter. The shopkeeper snatches them and says “Oh, no, I need to put them in a bag! Otherwise they will think you stole them!”

Perplexed, I let her put them in a bag. I take my bag, thank her, and leave the store. Once outside, we sit on a bench, take the biscuits out of the bag, and eat them.

Whoever ‘they’ were, they never appeared to question our right of ownership to the biscuits. Had they done so, I would have been lucky to have the bag – not to mention the receipt…

Throwing Fraud Out The Window

| FL, USA | Criminal/Illegal, Liars/Scammers

(My husband and I are relaxing at home one evening on the couch when the phone rings for our rarely-utilized land line. My husband answers.)

Husband: “Hello?… Oh, Microsoft, REALLY?… Wow, a hack on my PC. That’s TERRIBLE.”

(It’s obviously a scam and we both know it. I roll my eyes, but he keeps talking and looking up something on his smartphone.)

Husband: “Yes, I’m at my PC right now; just tell me what to do… Huh? What was that? I can’t hear you! Can you call me back on my cell phone? The reception might be better… Great, it’s [number]. I’ll wait!”

(He hangs up and goes back to watching TV like nothing happened.)

Me: “What number was that?”

Husband: “The local FBI Fraud Hotline.”

Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Murder Club

| GA, USA | FL, USA | Criminal/Illegal, Pets & Animals

(I’m working in a supermarket bakery that’s attached to a deli. Even though we’re considered separate departments, the bakery often helps the deli with simple counter customer service like slicing meats and cheeses, or making sandwiches when needed. I’m currently serving one of my favourite regular customers, an older guy who’s a police officer and always comes by at the end of his shift for sandwiches to take home for himself and his wife to have for lunch. I’m mildly complaining about our monthly department inventory while I make his sandwiches.)

Me: “It wouldn’t be so bad if the equipment was more reliable. [Manager] has been here since four am and she’s going to be late getting out because the tag scanner they gave her malfunctioned, so she has to start all over.”

Officer: “Oh, I would hate that. You think that’s bad, try inventorying a police department. Every. Single. Bullet. It’s not so bad because with everyone doing it, it gets done quicker, but it’s very tedious.”

Me: “Ugh, that’s awful. Do you have to inventory evidence, too?”

Officer: “Well, not me, but yeah, that needs to be closely inventoried regularly.”

Me: *obviously joking* “Hmm, well, if anything really cool comes in, like a spare head or crowbar, can you hook me up?”

Officer: *nodding and grinning* “Obviously!”

(At this point, I notice one of our younger employees looking at me in shock, clearly not realizing we’re just joking around.)

Me: “What?! [Officer] and I have an understanding. I give him extra peppers on his sandwiches, he hooks me up with cool crime swag and doesn’t ask too many questions about why my back yard is so bumpy and my GPS shows me on so many long, deserted roads in the middle of the night.”

Officer: *nods, acting serious, and taps the side of his nose conspiratorially with a wink*

Talking Eurotrash

| Belgium | At The Checkout, Bad Behavior, Criminal/Illegal, Employees, Money

(After winning €50 on a lottery scratch card, I go to the newsagent’s to cash it in and buy a new €10 ticket.)

Me: “Hi, I’d like a [€10 ticket], please. And could you also pay out this one?”

(The cashier hands me a new ticket, takes my winning ticket, and looks at it in a rather annoyed way.)

Cashier: *in a quite pedantic tone* “You know, you really should scratch it more thoroughly so the QR code is completely uncovered; otherwise it’s too much work for me.”

Me: *surprised* “Oh, since when has the system changed? I thought all you needed was the 4-digit number in the corner, so I always make sure that’s fully visible.”

Cashier: *annoyed* “Yeah, well, they changed the system earlier this week and they came to install this stupid new computer terminal, without as much as a word of warning. So yeah, now we need to scan the QR code on each ticket.”

Me: “Okay, that’s good to know; I’ll bear it in mind for next time.”

(The cashier scans my winning ticket’s QR code, and the message “winning ticket: €50” pops up on the terminal’s screen.)

Cashier: *hesitates, looks at the winning ticket, then at the new ticket he’d just handed me, and then starts typing numbers into the cash register* “Right, minus the €10 for your new ticket, I owe you €28.”

Me: “Ehm, no… that would be €40. I won €50, the new ticket costs €10.

Cashier: *now obviously annoyed* “No, I don’t think so! It says €28 on the cash register. The register is always right!” *tries to hand me €28*

Me: “I’m quite sure it’s €40. Could you check my winning ticket again?”

Cashier: “No, I won’t! I never buy lottery tickets! I don’t know how any of that works! My register says your change is €28 so that’s what you’re getting! The register doesn’t make mistakes!” *slams down the money on the counter*

(At this moment, the next customer in line, who had clearly seen the “winning ticket: €50” message on the terminal’s screen, decides to speak up on my behalf:)

Customer: *to the cashier* “I’m sure this gentleman is right. I just saw him win €50!”

Cashier:  “Stay out of this!” *turns back to me* “Right, if money is obviously sooooo important to you, here’s your stinking two euros!”

(He grabs four 50ct coins from the till and slams them down on the counter, bringing the total change to €30.)

Me: *doing my best to remain icy calm* “Actually, you still owe me €10.”

Cashier: “Oh, really!? You know what?” *taking two €5 notes from the till, and throwing them on the counter* “Take it all! Take MY money! I hope you’re happy now! In fact, why don’t you go spend MY money right now? Buy a burger, why don’t you… and choke on it!”

Me: *walking to the exit with my €40* “Thanks for the tip, and pleasure doing business with you.”

(Although somehow I doubt I’ll go back there…)