Unfiltered Story #155558

, , | Unfiltered | June 27, 2019

[I’m 16 and a girl. In early 2013, I opened my own art studio. Im the only one who owns it. I have 5 other people working for me at this time. It was currently 9/11 rememberance day, so I put up art from around the community depicting survivors views of the towers. A costumer walks in.]
Costumer: Hello, I would like to see the owner.
Me: For what purpose sir.
Costumer: I would like submit a sculpture for the 9/11 memorial.
[For security reasons and because its Washington D.C., each and every painting, sculpture and mobile sculpture has to be screened for any potential explosive devices or detonators.]
Me: Alright,Im the owner, bring it in the back here and lets screen it through.
[ I have two security officers that work with me.]
Costumer: Im sorry but that won’t be possible. [ At this point, you should never say that since it tends to put some people on edge.]
Me: Why?
Costumer: Its not with me.
[ I can see the officers beginning to get nervous.]
Costumer: ITS IN MY PANTS.
[He drops his pants, shocking all the survivors as well as the children of some of the survivors, yelling, his d*** was on fire. After sending apalogies to everyone present, I banned him from coming within 500ft of my studio. We now have increased security during 9/11 remembrance day.]

The Party Is Going To Pot

| Right | May 19, 2016

(Every so often, my mother and I go to a pot painting cafe together. It’s run by an older woman, but the rest of the staff are in their late teens. It also holds birthday parties in a separate room upstairs. On this particular day, my cousin and aunt are with us, and only the teen girls are at work. A woman comes in with her two kids for a party being held for her daughter. She then walks out to her car, leaving the kids in the cafe. The kids ask if they can go up to the party room, and the girl at the counter agrees. Then the mother comes in, goes upstairs, and comes downstairs fuming.)

Customer: *shouting* “How DARE you tell my kids what to do?”

Staff Member: “I- I’m sorry?”

Customer: “No one is allowed to boss my kids around! What gives you the right to tell them where to go and what to do?”

Staff Member: *on verge of tears* “I- I didn’t—”

My Aunt: *interrupting* “She didn’t tell them what to do. They asked to go upstairs!”

Customer: “What?”

My Mother: “Yes, I saw the whole thing. They asked to go upstairs and she let them.”

(The woman storms off upstairs to check. The staff member goes into the back, clearly crying her eyes out. A little later, the staff member is back at the till, and the woman comes downstairs again.)

Customer: *somewhat insincerely* “Oh, no, dear, I’m so sorry. Did I make you cry?”

Staff Member: It’s okay…

Customer: “Oh, no, dear, I’m just stressed because a lot of kids cancelled and I need to re-organise things… I was thinking that, since there are less kids, they could do more expensive pots…”

(My family then watches in disbelief as the woman changes literally every aspect of the party, on the actual day. The next week, my mother and I are back, and the owner comes over to talk to us.)

Owner: “Were you here last week?”

My Mother: “Yes, why?”

Owner: “Do you mind telling me exactly what happened with that woman who came in about the party?”

(We explain what we saw and said, the owner’s frown getting deeper all the while.)

Owner: “Right, I just had to check what [Staff Member] said. Thank you for sticking up for her.”

My Mother: “It was nothing. Did something else happen?”

Owner: *sighs* “That woman booked with us last year and shouted at me for passing her on the stairs. Usually for parties we insist on people spending £11 per child, but she only paid £6 this year. To make matters worse, she’s not paid for two tiles – one was abandoned and re-done, and the other broke in the kiln. We think one of the kids smacked it on the table, or something. Hopefully, she’s coming in today to pick the tiles up, because I’m not in tomorrow and [Staff Member] will be in charge. We’ve tried to be diplomatic with this woman, but she’s self-centred and has spoilt those two kids absolutely rotten. Her mother is just as bad – she came in last year. And that’s not even the worst part.”

Me: “What could possibly be worse?”

Owner: “The kids’ names. They’re called Emperor and Empress.”

My Mother: “You’re joking.”

Owner: “I’m not.”

(The last I heard, that woman was banned from booking any more parties at that cafe. No word on whether she paid for the two extra tiles or not.)

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