ID: Idiot driver
WK: Grocery Manager (only manager on duty)
Let me set the stage. It's lunch time in the commissary parking lot. All of the spots near the entrance are full...except one section. This section is partitioned off by bright orange cones and bright yellow tape. Attached to the cones at periodic intervals are signs saying "WET PAINT". This is due to the freshly re-painted lines on the pavement. A beat up old BMW circles the lot a few times before apparently saying "fuck it" and driving through the tape and cones to park in the wet paint
. Customers notice, but fail to notify any employees of the problem. Some time later, the driver returns and drives away, leaving a clear set of white tire tracks on the pavement as he goes.
It is now 5:45 pm. A young woman is alone behind the deli counter inside the commissary. Her shift ends in 15 minutes. She's hoping her good luck holds and she escapes the day unscathed.
No such luck. The idiot driver of the BMW enters Stage Left and begins cursing at the employee.
ID: *Yelling* You owe me $100!!
ID: You owe me $100! I demand you give it to me now!!
MB: I'm sorry, but I don't think I know y-
ID: Your F***ING STORE owes me $100! Now get me my f***ing money! NOW!!
MB: Sir, I can't give you a refund here. This is the deli. Customer service is right there. *Points*
ID: Don't bulls*** me! Give me my f***ing money!
MB: Sir, I have no cash register. If you'll just go explain your problem to customer ser-
ID: GIVE ME MY MONEY you little b****! You OWE me!
MB: *Gets on intercom and pages WK*
ID: Who the f*** are you calling?!
MB: A manager. I think she could help you better than I could.
ID: She better give me my f***ing $100!
WK: Can I help you sir?
ID: YOU OWE ME $100! Give me my MONEY!!
WK: Sir, could you please explain the problem so I can try to give you a refund?
ID: I don't need a f***ing refund! I just want my money!
WK: Sir, I can't give you money unless I know the problem. Please explain why we owe you $100.
ID: SHUT UP AND PAY ME!
They went around in circles for a while before we finally discovered the issue. Apparently he'd been issued a fine by the base for the paint he'd tracked down the street. He thought this was our
fault because we'd had the gall to paint the parking lot
. WK flatly refused to give him the money, which caused him to scream louder and curse more. WK finally gave him the phone number to "corporate" and sent him on his way. WK confided in me that the number she gave him was actually to the security forces building
That was today. I just got home. I'm desperately in need of a smoothie of some sort.