Last night I had a guy I thought was a methhead come into the store at the lumber registers asking to return a door. I was covering my friend's lunch break. It was late. I paid no attention to the door at first, but this dude looked sketchy and I'd seen him in the store several times doing sketchy stuff before (he was skinny, scruffy, and wrinkled up. He looked the part of most drug addicts that come into the store). But it was 8 at night so I was the only guy down in the lumber yard. I am qualified to do returns, so I start asking him the basic questions.
"Do you have the receipt?"
"Do you have the method of payment with you?"
At this point I'm sure this dude is up to no good, and there's no way I'm going to return this down here, where I'm alone. I send him up to customer service. Shortly afterwards, my friend gets back so I'm headed back up to customer service. This guy stops me and he's asking me where the doors department is. I tell him. He heads over there and I make it back up to customer service.
Sitting on a cart right there is this door, and I finally get to inspect it. They're wasn't even an actual door. The barcode had been ripped off and there was just a wooden doorframe, and definitely not in returnable condition. The white painted frame had scratches and what looked like crayon markings all over the sides. While the perp is back checking out doors I flag down one of the assistant managers on duty. He takes a look at the doorframe and says, "we're not taking this back."
The man was rather pissy and rude when he got back up to the service desk, but my friend, who works in paint and home decor and followed him all the way back to where the doors are to find one, is there for backup.
"You guys could've just told me you wouldn't return it instead of wasting my time," he grumbles.
"Sir," butts in my friend, "you wasted your own time bringing this in and dragging me out of my department all the way back to find a match for this doorless doorframe that we don't sell. So why don't you get on your little bicycle and get out of here?"
Kid you not, he takes this glorified scrap wood outside, drapes it over his shoulder and rides away on a bicycle. A bicycle.