At the home center where I first got sentenced to retail, back when I was young and naïve, and still had some faith left in humanity, I worked at the service desk. All in all, not a bad job, until the original owner retired and his son destroyed the company (as in, completely out of business) in six months. We had a lot of duties, basically anything that wasn't the usual "guy comes in to buy parts to fix his toilet" sort of thing. Problems always ended up in our laps. (And we'd have contests to see who was slowest at spotting them, walking in the door. We all got very good at it. See someone walking in looking pissed, and it was rats from a sinking ship. "I don't have to outrun the bear, I only have to outrun you." Bastards.)
1) If you buy a hot water heater, and it's defective, you don't return it. You call the 800 number for the warranty company, and they come out to your house and fix it (or replace it) on site. Unless you're a dumbass, in which case you (at about 5' 2" and maybe 100 pounds dripping wet) and your buddy (who is even smaller) unhook it, stick it in your truck, and bring it back to the store. WITHOUT DRAINING IT. Damn water heater must have outweighed the guys dragging it in by a thousand pounds.
3) Refunds. Very, very strict policy that any refund over $50 (originally $25) was mailed out in the form of a check. Period. Even if it was paid in cash. They fired people for $51 cash refunds. So this guy comes in, sent by his boss the contractor, with a pile of $100 bills, to buy about $1500 worth of building supplies (a hell of a lot in the early 80s). Now, in the lumber yard, they hand wrote tickets with prices on them, because the lumber wasn't marked, and this was before bar codes were in common use. Not a problem, cashiers knew what to do. Sales over a certain amount (and this was well over it) had to go through the service desk, where we hand wrote a different, larger ticket for the cashier. Again, no problem. Except the dumbass who wrote up this guy didn't confiscate the lumber ticket, so the cashier (who was new) rang up both tickets, and double charged the guy about $600. And the guy didn't realize it, because it wasn't his money and he had no idea how much it should all be.
He shows back up about an hour later, in a state of complete panic, because his boss was pissed (and understandably so), and ends up in my lap. OK, I sympathize, but I ain't getting fired over it. Assistant manager (who was a craven little weasel that nobody but me would even work with - people quite to not be on the same shift as him) suggests I call the corporate office. So I did. Explained the situation, made it clear it was *our* mistake, and how much the guy spent. Might have even implied they were regulars with that kind of purchasing (though I had no idea if they were). They said if the cashier's office upstairs still had the cash, it was OK and to put the corporate person's name on the refund authorization. Head cashier (who had legs that went all the way to the floor) was still musing over the six cash drops done at once (cash drops were always exactly $300), said fine by her. To my knowledge, that is the only time in the history of the company they ever bent the "no cash refunds over $50 rule).
Mixing paint. When you mix custom colors of paint, it has to be shaken in a large, loud, very energetic paint shaker machine for several minutes. When you mix five gallon buckets, the machine is even larger, louder, and more energetic. This is perfectly normal, and entirely safe. Unless you're a dumbass and don't get the lid of the five gallon bucket on tight. In which case, the lid has enough mass (the one gallon cans don't) to knock the door open, and spray five gallons of paint across about 30 feet of display racks (minus an employee shaped silhouette in the middle), making it impossible to even tell what the product is. Must have cost the company thousands. Best part was, it was the paint department manager, who everyone hated, and *nobody* would help her clean it up. Took several hours, and ruined department sales for a week until a replacement order came in.
5) Hazing. I was the new guy, so they had to do something slightly obnoxious to break me in. OK, I get it. Everybody needs to feel superior to *somebody*. So somebody (who turned out to be a bit of dumbass) sent me over to the hardware department to get them some "glass nails." Now, there's no such thing as a nail made out of glass. But there are some very nail-like objects that are used to hold panes of glass in a window frame while you apply the putty to seal it up and hold the glass in place permanently. And the brand name of the ones we carried was, in fact, "Glass Nails." Hah! We all got along fine after that. They were a pretty good natured bunch of psychos.