I’m a volunteer at the front desk of a well-known historical art gallery, the kind with marble floors, velvet ropes, and a whole wing of Renaissance paintings. The gallery is free, and I am a volunteer, which means I can be a bit more forthcoming with guests if the need arises.

A woman storms back down from the main exhibit hall, dragging her two teenage sons behind her. The boys look… delighted. She looks furious.

Mom: “Nobody warned us there would be nudity in the artwork!”

Me: “Well, many of the pieces are from the Renaissance. It was fairly common for the time—”

Mom: “That’s disgusting. I brought them to this f****** country for culture, not… filth!”

I glance at the boys, desperately trying to hide smirks.

Me: “Right. Well, ma’am, just so you know, those paintings have been here for over four hundred years.”

Mom: “So?!”

Me: “So if your sons manage to walk out of here with less maturity than a sixteenth-century artist, that’s on you.”

She remained unpleased, and I wisely suggested skipping ancient Greece entirely.

I work in a gift shop at a museum/art gallery. A customer comes over to the register holding a mug printed with a famous painting.

Customer: “This mug is £14.99. That’s a bit steep, isn’t it?”

Me: “It helps support the gallery and preserve the exhibits. Plus, it’s exclusive to the gift shop.”

Customer: “Well, I just came from the café. They gave me a cup for free and filled it.”

Me: “Right, but that one didn’t have Monet on it.”

Customer: “Neither does this! It says it’s inspired by Monet. This isn’t even a real painting!”

Me: “So… £14.99 would be reasonable if it was a… a, real Monet?”

Customer: “I suppose.”

Me: “Well… the original can’t hold tea.”

Customer: *Deep sigh.* “I suppose.”

She doesn’t buy the mug and leaves, letting the next person in line come up.

Next Customer: “Was she serious?”

Me: “I’ve heard worse.”

Next Customer: “I was about to jump in and tell her that fifteen quid’s pretty good for a souvenir, but for the real thing, she better bring eight figures and a security team!”

Several years ago, I worked as a director for an art gallery/broker. We had a number of people come in with different artwork looking for appraisals. Some turned out to be fairly valuable; most did not. This was one of those times.

Client: “I have a painting, and I would like to find out how much it is worth.”

Me: “No problem, I can definitely help you with that.”

The client handed me the “painting”, and I immediately recognized it as a cheap print of a semi-famous artist.

Me: “I’m sorry to tell you this, but this isn’t actually a painting; it’s a print. And, because it isn’t signed or a limited edition, it isn’t really valuable.”

Client: “How do you know?”

I was a little miffed that I had to explain that I was experienced and knew what I was talking about, but I hoped that they simply wanted to be educated.

Me: “First, there is no texture from the paint. Second, it is on cardboard, which no painter would ever do because it isn’t a quality substrate. But, most of all…”

I held a magnifying glass up to the print.

Me: “Do you see those dots?”

Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Those dots are created from the printing process.”

Client: “I don’t believe you. This has been in my family for a long time, and I know it’s worth a lot of money!”

Me: “Well, I’ve given you the facts. If you think I’m wrong, feel free to take it somewhere else to get it appraised.”

Client: “I will because you are ridiculous and obviously don’t know what you’re talking about!”

They left, refusing to believe that their “painting” was no more than a cheap print that you could buy at a garage sale for a buck.

I’m working security at an art museum, and you overhear the strangest things. A couple is looking at some historical paintings, including one whose tag indicates that it was painted circa 1600.

Guest: “Do you think the earth was even around back then?”

Deep sigh.

Guest: “You just never really know…”

I’m selling art by local artists, and one of my larger pieces is an interpretation of Adam and Eve. I grew up in a very strict religious household and was able to escape that particular religion. As a result, my Bible knowledge is quite strong. Also, as the owner of my own market stall, I can be honest with customers who irk me.

Customer: “Why are they Black?” 

Me: “Because the artist chose to interpret them as Black. But to be fair, it’s a pretty fair interpretation considering where most events in the Bible took place.”

Customer: “But that’s blasphemous! Adam and Eve weren’t Black!” 

Me: “What were they, then?”

Customer: “Well…”

Me: “You think they were white?”

Customer: “All the pictures I’ve seen of them they’re white!”

Me: “You mean paintings? As in artist interpretations? Like this one?”

Customer: “But they weren’t African!”

Me: “They weren’t European, either. And it’s the general consensus that all of humanity originated from Africa anyway.” 

Customer: “You mean that evolution bulls***? No. I’m gonna stick with the Holy Bible on this.”

Me: “So, you’re going with the Garden of Eden? Which was located near the Tigris and Euphrates River? So, the Middle East? Yes, lots of white people from there.”

Customer: “I thought you were trying to sell this painting?” 

Me: “Were you ever going to buy it?”

Customer: “Adam and Eve weren’t Black!” *Storms off* 

The painting was eventually sold to a church for their Sunday school! I hope that the next generation of Christians does better.