Customer: “I need something to fill in between metal and concrete.”

Me: “Silicone adhesive or concrete adhesive in caulking tubes?”

Customer: “No, no, no.”

Coworker: “Sounds like you need some type of mortar?”

Customer: “No. That’s not it. I KNOW! I DO THIS FOR A LIVING!”

Coworker: *quietly to me* “If he does this for a living, than he should probably know what he needs.”

Customer: *to Boss* “Those guys don’t know ANYTHING!”

Boss: “Um… yes… Yes, they do.”

Customer: “Okay. I’ll just take these.”

(“These” being what I had recommended to the “Professional” in the first place.)

Customer: *stops me over by the face painting section* “Excuse me, I’m trying to find the stuff you spray on top of the body markers to make it permanent.”

Me: *baffled* “I’m sorry, did you say permanent, like lasts your whole life permanent?”

Customer: “Yeah, I was told there’s a spray that you can put on body markers to make it permanent.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, there’s setting spray which will make face paint last longer that might work on the markers but spray to make it last your whole life doesn’t exist.”

Customer: *getting huffy* “My daughter has a drawing on her arm that she says is ink made permanent with spray. Are you telling me it doesn’t exist?”

Me: “Ma’am… are you sure it’s not a tattoo?”

(She stares at me in shock, then in utter fury before whipping out her phone and starting to dial. She yells into the phone as soon as she gets connected.)

Customer: “Did you get a tattoo?!”

(My friend and I are at a nail salon where I am a regular, getting our nails done. We are chatting with the nail technicians when a young girl about four or so comes in with her high school-age sister. They are greeted and go to pick their nail colors. The four-year-old breaks several bottles of nail polish and starts yelling at us to clean it up.)

Four-Year-Old: “Clean it up! Clean it UP!”

(The staff do so, with the four-year-old and her sister glowering. Neither of them says sorry or apologizes. The sister starts getting her tips done, and the four-year-old waits for her. After about ten minutes, their mom shows up. She blazes into the store with her son in a shopping cart, crashing hard into the glass door and nearly breaking it, too.)

Mom: “I understand I owe you for some nail polish that got broken?!”

Staff Member: “Oh, no, it’s fine. It’s okay. No charge.”

Mom: “No, I would like to pay.”

(She goes over to examine her little girl, and notices the several colors of nail polish streaked down her leg. One is glitter pink and one is a deep blood red.)

Mom: “Oh, MY GOD! She CUT HERSELF and you didn’t even do anything?”

Sister: “Yeah, mom, she asked for a bandage and they said NO!”

Four-Year-Old: “Yeah, mom!” *starts to cry*

Mom: “I’m so sorry that she broke your PRECIOUS NAIL POLISH. How could you deny her a bandage, though? You’re more worried about the nail polish than my little girl?!”

(The staff attempt to explain but she does not let anyone finish a sentence.)

Mom: “You bunch of stupid immigrants don’t even speak enough English to know what I’m saying anyway!”

(She wheels out of there and the staff begin speaking quietly to each other in Vietnamese. Mom comes blazing back in.)

Mom: “You have something to say to me? Huh? You can say it to my face; we’re all adults here. Huh?! HUH?!”

(She is screaming and red in the face. Her kids are bawling. Finally I have had enough.)

Me: “Ma’am—”

Mom: “I cannot BELIEVE—”

Me: “MA’AM! Your child did not ask for a bandage. They already said they won’t charge you for the polish she broke.”

Mom: “Of all the nerve! You’re telling me all my kids are lying?”

Me: “Ma’am, no one asked for a bandage. Even if she did, this is not a pharmacy. They’re not obligated to have one. IF she had, I have several and would have given her one. Besides, this is not a daycare. We’re not obligated to watch your child.”

Mom: “Rude. All of you are rude and selfish, and I’m going to sue all of you.”

Me: “Ma’am, this corner of the mall is covered by several security cameras including one right behind your head. We can certainly review the footage.”

(Mom realizes she is beat and wheels out of there, but not before giving us the finger. The employees were very nice and gave me and my friend a 10% discount! Stupid indeed?)

(It’s around opening time and I am working as a cashier. I am doing my opening duties and then the phone rings.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant] in [City]. My name is [My Name]. Could I start you off with a [Soda] product on limited time offer today?”

Customer: “No, sir, not today. Do you know what the name of the store is next to you? I think it’s called PetSmart or something like that.”

(In my mind I’m thinking, ‘What the f***, guy. Really?’)

Me: “I believe that’s what it’s called.”

Customer: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Standby, sir.”

(At this moment I put him on hold, walk outside, look at the sign, and walk back inside.)

Me: “Well, sir, I walked outside to double check and yes, that’s what the store is called.”

Customer: “Okay, cool! Do you know what time they’re open?”

(I’m typically very patient with my customers, but at this point, I was getting rather annoyed.)

Me: “No, sir, I do not know what time they’re open.”

Customer: “But you just walked outside and looked at the sign. I mean you should know that considering your stores are RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER… Actually, never mind. I’m going to use Google.”

(He hangs up the phone.)

Me: *sighs*

(I work all over the state installing windows. I’m talking to my coworker as I am approaching a customer’s house.)

Coworker: “On the porch there’s a half-smoked joint. I ain’t kidding.”

Me: “No, these people are way too uptight for sure to smoke pot; maybe the house we did yesterday, but not this one.”

(I walk into the house to inform the homeowner that we are about to start working in this room and the homeowner has a giant blunt in his hand with at least three grams of pot on the table.)

Me: “Um, sir, we are about to start working in this room. You may want to leave.”

Homeowner: “Haha, nah, I’m good. *takes hit off of blunt* “Reeeeaaallllyyyyy gooooooood.” *falls out of chair and laughs for a good twenty minutes on the floor*

Coworker: *to me* “Told you.”