I worked in a clothing store with a guy I’ll call Clive. Clive was, without a doubt, the stupidest fellow I have ever (or hopefully ever will) met. He was once tasked with placing sales stickers on some clothes, and then he proceeded to place them inside the clothes. When asked why?

Clive: “So they wouldn’t fall off.”

Us: “But they’re stickers. Their sole intention is to not fall off.”

Clive: “But they fall off all the time.”

When we checked his work, we realised he actually hadn’t been peeling the stickers off to reveal the sticky backs. He had just been tearing them off and hoping for the best. For weeks after the sale, we kept finding random torn sales stickers falling out of stock with exclamations like, “Clive strikes again!” and the like.

When it was time for the next sale, my boss decided Clive would not be involved. At the beginning of the sales planning meeting, he gathered the staff and started with:

Boss: “The plan for the sale is simple, like Clive. But unlike Clive, the plan just might work.”

A customer is returning a pair of shoes.

Customer: “They were too big! I want my money back.”

As soon as I lift them up to check them, I notice mud and grass stains and stones stuck in the sole.

Me: “I can’t take them back because they aren’t faulty. We encourage all our customers to try shoes on and test them before going outside in them.”

She then takes them back, leaves the store, comes back in, and tries to return them again.

Customer: “These are faulty. I want my money back.”

Me: “I can’t return these because I know they aren’t.”

Customer: *Thinks for a moment* “But these were for my daughter who has Down syndrome, and you should feel like s*** for denying me a refund!”

She stormed off. I did not feel like s***.

I run a side business doing custom-made costumes. Most of my projects are done without fanfare, but then I get these gems.

Client: “Hi. I want to do this costume. Just need the shirt. Thanks.”

The link they provide goes to a WWII reenactment supplier. The specific page is a replica of a Hitler Youth uniform. After a few moments of “yikes”, I collect myself and respond to the message.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this commission. You may be better served to order from the reenactment site instead.”

Client: “Are you saying I should spend $90 on a shirt?! I don’t have that kind of money! I only contacted you because I thought you’d be cheaper!”

Given I charge a $20-an-hour commission fee, and it takes me five to seven hours to make a button-down shirt, I definitely wouldn’t be cheaper. And I am not about to do business with a wannabe Nazi.

So, yes, honey. That’s exactly what I’m saying.

I work in the fitting room at a clothing store. A woman comes in to try on a T-shirt.

Me: “Hi! My name is [My Name]. Let me know if you need another size or anything.”

Customer: “You’re too happy, and I can’t deal with it.”

She left without trying on the shirt. I guess I need to start hating life more?

Customer: “I’m here to return this dress.”

This dress has makeup all over it. This is a high-end place and the item was super clearance.

Me: “We can’t return this item.”

Customer: “Honey, look at me. I make more in a year than you will in your lifetime. You’ll take this back, or you may not have a job in the morning.”

Me: “That may be so, but if you earn that much money, won’t I cost more on unemployment from your taxes than the cost of the dress?”

She left in a huff, never to be seen again.