My manager and I are working the overnight shift at a twenty-four-seven fast food joint in a neighborhood that doesn’t have the best reputation.
A guy walks in and asks for the cheapest combo we have. I ask for the total, and he’s thirty-seven cents short. I explain this.
Customer: “C’mon, man! It’s the middle of the night. Just let it slide.”
Me: “Sorry, sir, I can’t offer any discounts.”
Customer: “It’s only a few cents! No one will notice.”
Me: “I’ll be short at the end of my shift, and I’ll get written up.”
Customer: “So, your write-up is more important than me going hungry?”
Me: “Look, I can get you some fries for [small amount], and I’ll throw in some extra for you, but I can’t sell you [combo] unless you have the full amount.”
My manager walks over as he’s noticed the customer getting agitated. He explains the same things that I have, and the customer gives us a big “F*** you!” and storms out.
Less than half an hour later, the next shift has arrived, and during the overlap, my manager and I get a break. We usually grab some food and go sit in his old car together, which has been parked to the side of the store for as long as I can remember. (He drives a newer and nicer car, but due to reasons too long and boring to list here, he’s been allowed to keep his old car in that parking spot for a few months.)
As we’re eating our dinner and talking, the customer from before spots us, storms over, and dramatically throws himself over the hood of the car.
Customer: “What the f***, man! You trying to kill me?!”
Manager: “What the h*** are you doing?! Go away!”
Customer: “I’m callin’ the police! You tried to kill me!”
Me: “Oh, my God! Is this all because you didn’t get a burger?!”
The customer — who, at this point, we suspect is high on something — actually calls 911 and claims we tried to run him over. I’m getting a little worried, but my manager tells me to be patient and it’ll all be fine.
Two officers drive in about fifteen minutes later. (We’ve sat in the car finishing our food during this time.) The customer is quick to explain to them what happened. He’s even developed a little limp in the last fifteen minutes.
Then, the officers finally give my manager and me a chance to explain
Manager: “Officer, please, check the engine. I think you’ll find that it will prove that we didn’t hit the customer.”
Officer #1: “I’m not qualified to check an engine to confirm your testimony.”
Manager: “Please, indulge me.”
My manager pops the hood, opens it, and lets the officer take a look.
Officer #1: *To the customer* “Okay, sir, I think we’re done here.”
Customer: “What are you talking about?! Just because the engine isn’t running, it doesn’t mean—”
Officer #1: “Take a look, sir.”
The customer steps forward… and sighs.
There is no engine.
Manager: “It was taken out months ago to go to a more deserving car. This hunk of junk exists only as a place for me to take my breaks and listen to my music at full volume. We good here?”
Officer #2: “We’re good. Feel free to go back inside, sir.”
Manager: “But first, I’d like to call the police about a customer who is causing a disturbance and has been known to lie to the police.”
Officer #2: “No need to make that call, sir. We can take it from here.”
They escorted the customer off the premises. We never saw him again.