In the past, I have shared a series of stories from my days publishing small town newspapers, from a job I had selling cars, about my time in the Army, and some tales of the offbeat adventures and misadventures I’ve gotten into in a series called Nick Happens. Now, I thought I would share some stories about a period in my life many years ago when I drove a taxicab in Tucson, Arizona. Oh, some of the things I witnessed back then! I’ve told more than one prospective author that if they really want to learn about human nature, they need to become a cop, a nurse, or a cab driver. You will see the best and worst of people in any of those jobs.
One afternoon, I got a call to pick up a Mr. Johnson in front of a Coco’s restaurant in Tucson. I pulled up and a very professional-looking man in a nice three-piece suit got in the back and asked me to take him to Kmart. When we got there, he told me to park off to the side, away from the front door, gave me a twenty-dollar bill, and asked me to wait for him. He was in the store for about 10, maybe 15 minutes and came back out. He told me to go to Fry’s grocery store, again told me to park off to the side, gave me another $20, and told me to wait for him. We went to three different stores, and it was the same thing at each store. Then he had me pull over at a curb and let him out, giving me a very healthy tip. We had been talking between stops, and he asked for my card and said he would call me for a ride again sometime.
I didn’t think much about it until a few days later, when I got a call to pick up Father Johnson at a Denny’s restaurant. When I pulled up, the same man got in my cab. This time he was wearing a clerical collar and asked me to take him to Walmart. We repeated the process from before, me parking off to the side, him giving me $20 and telling me to wait. From Walmart, we went to a Mervin’s department store at the Tucson Mall with the same scenario playing out. I don’t remember where all we went that day, but it was probably five or six different stores. Between stops he chatted, and I really liked the guy. He was intelligent, funny, and had a great personality. And as happened the first time, he told me to pull over at a random corner, give me a good tip and got out.
Fast forward another few days, and I got a call to pick up Dr. Johnson at a Burger King. Same man, but this time he was wearing hospital scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, and we did the same routine. We stopped at several stores, he had me park away from the door, he went in and came out, and eventually had me stop at a corner and let him out, again tipping very well.
This went on for two or three weeks in different areas of the city, and by then I knew that one of two things was happening. Either the guy was some kind of a thief, or else he was crazy. I’d driven a taxicab long enough to know that it could be either one. He never carried anything into a store and he never carried anything back out. I always picked him up at a different restaurant and always let him out someplace whenever he decided it was time to call it a day.
I have to say that we had become pretty friendly, and one day I asked him, “So, what’s going on with you? Are you crazy, or are you a crook?” He asked what I meant, and I told him that obviously he was up to something shady, but I didn’t know what it was, or else he was living a fantasy life. That’s when he explained his scam to me.
He would do his homework in advance to know what brands each store carried. Thus prepared, he would go into a Kmart, for example, walk to the tool department and pick up a Black and Decker power saw. Then he would take it to the customer service department and say he had bought this for his brother-in-law’s birthday, but it turned out his brother-in-law was one of those guys who had to have a Craftsman, or whatever brand he knew they did not carry. The customer service clerk would tell them they don’t carry that, and he would ask if they could order one. They’d said no, it wasn’t one of their brands, and he’d say, well, he guessed he needed a refund, apologizing because his brother-in-law was such a jerk.
When they asked for a receipt, he would go through his wallet and hand the clerk his business card, saying he was Attorney So-and-So, Family Counselor So-and-So, or Dr. So-and-So, or whatever he was play-acting to be that day. Then he would say he guessed he was going to have to come back to the store with the receipt, but it wouldn’t be that day because he was due in court, in therapy session, in surgery, or whatever. He said nine times out of ten the minimum-wage clerk would see him as an authority figure and think that a doctor, a priest, or an attorney wasn’t going to be ripping them off, so they would just give him the refund as a courtesy.
On the rare occasions when they did say he had to come back with the receipt, he would take whatever the item was with him, say he would see them the next day, and go to a store that carried that brand, but not the brand he was looking for, asking for their refund. He told me that small power tools under $50, different types of swimming pool chlorine treatments (tablets, powders, etc.), and Similac baby formula, of which there were several different varieties, were his favorite targets. He only went to chain stores, never mom-and-pop places, and said he had never been challenged by a manager or any kind of store security in all the years he had been working the scam.
He also said that when he was dressed as a doctor he was routinely asked about some random pain or symptom the clerk had. He would ask for a few more details and then say, “It’s probably nothing, but if I were you, I would consult my family doctor just to be sure.” When he was playing Reverend, they would tell him about some family crisis or a son who is into drugs or something and he would tell them that he would light a candle for them and include them in his prayers. If he pretended to be an attorney, they would tell him about some legal issue they were facing. He would tell them that unfortunately he was booked solid for the next six months, but recommend that they contact legal aid for a referral to an attorney. Space doesn’t permit me to tell you all the stories he told me about his scams moving from town to town every two or three months, but if even half of them are true, he had quite a few adventures.
In those days, the scam was called refunding, and you probably couldn’t get it away with it today, with so many security procedures in place. But back in the so-called “good old days” he seemed to make a pretty good living doing what he was doing. In those days, if he scored three or four $50 refunds it was a pretty good day’s wage. He was just one of many characters from those days that have or will eventually wind up in one of my books.
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And finally, here’s a chuckle to start your day from the collection of funny signs we see in our travels and that our readers share with us.

Thought For The Day – Anxiety is a pathological liar.









































