A woman comes in holding a tangled mess of yarn in one hand and a photo on her phone in the other.

Customer: “Hi. I tried to crochet this little frog I saw online. It… didn’t go great.”

Me: “Let’s see—oh, that’s a cute pattern! What happened?”

She shows me her attempt. It looks less like a frog and more like a small, angry knot with eyes.

Customer: “It was supposed to be a stress-relief hobby. Now the frog is the stress.”

Me: *Laughing.* “I’ve been there. Want some easier starter patterns?”

Customer: “Yes, something that doesn’t look at me in disappointment when I mess up. Like a rectangle.”

She leaves with a chunky yarn, bigger hook, and a blanket pattern.

Customer: “If this turns into a frog again, I’m just going to start selling abstract art.”

About a year after I graduated, a potential client contacted me after finding a sample of my work on my school’s website.

Client: “Hi. I’m looking for an artist who can illustrate a couple of children’s books for me. I saw your work in the online graduate gallery and really liked it! I already have the characters created and everything, so it shouldn’t be much work.”

Me: “While I am currently open for commissions, I am working full-time and have a few other side projects going on. Would you be able to give me more information on the project, as well as your budget and schedule?”

Client: “Sure. There isn’t much work to do! All I want is for seventy-five books to be made, each with ten full pages of illustrations. And we need them ready for print in three months. I’ve attached images of our characters so you have an idea of what we’re looking for. For payment, you’ll have to ask my Project Director.”

I had no idea who the Project Director was. The client had attached eight scanned images of various crudely-drawn characters colored with pencil crayons. 

Me: “I noticed that you have a very short schedule for this project. It is not possible for me to create 750 full-page illustrations in three months while working full-time. The best I can offer you is to complete one book every two weeks, at my base rate of 35$ an hour.”

Client: “Ahaha, that’s funny. We want the seventy-five books done in three months, not two years! [Winking Emoji] Also, we would rather just pay you a flat rate for the whole project. How does 250$ sound?”

I didn’t end up working with this client.

I work in an independent, privately owned local arts and craft supply store. There was no higher up corporate that breathed down anyone’s neck – just my direct boss who had founded the store twenty years prior and has always worked there herself since so she takes no crap from anyone. 

This happened way too often to keep count, but we had our way of dealing with customers like that.

Note that the German general word for chalk describes a lot more items than the English term does.

Customer: “I’m looking for chalk.”

Me: “Alright, what kind exactly?” 

Customer: “Normal chalk!”

Me: “Would you mind explaining to me what qualifies as ‘normal’ chalk to you? We have several different items that could fall under that description. What do you want to use it for?” 

Customer: “Urgh, for art, obviously! How hard can this be?!”

Me: “Fantastic. So, we have chalk [for writing on blackboards], street chalk [the kind kids use for drawing on the sidewalk], chalk pastels, oil pastels [literally ‘oil chalk’ in German]-“ 

Customer: “Oh, uh…”

Me: “—chalk pastel pencils, chalk paint, chalk paint markers—”

Customer: “Wait, I…” 

Me: “—chalk powder and plaster [also commonly called ‘chalk’ by a lot of our customers]. You asked how hard this could be? Only as hard as you make it by not answering a simple question.” 

Customer: “…I, uh… I need chalk pastels, please.”

Me: “Of course, sir.”

My boss found this spiel hilarious every single time.

Related:
Chalk It Up To Inexperience

I am getting multiple emails from a client whose project is a grainy YouTube video of a cheetah chase (wildlife documentary). The client has a specific vision for the final product:

Email #1:

Subject: “My Project – Edit it to be AWESOME!”

Client: “Hey, Chief!” *’Dear Editor’ was apparently beneath him.*

“Just sent you that cheetah chase video I was talking about. Make it EPIC! Fast cuts, dramatic music, the whole shebang!”

Email #2: *Received three hours later.*

Subject: “Re: My Project – Edit it to be AWESOME!”

Client: “Hey, Chief,

Just a quick question. Can you make the warthog FASTER? Like, way faster? It seems a little sluggish.”

Me: *Confused but polite.* “Hi, Mr. [Client]. No problem! I can adjust the video speed for the warthog. Can you give me a little more detail on how fast you’d like it?”

Client: *Reply same day.* “Chief, just make it a BEAST! Like a Mr. Twin Turbo V8 engine, running 300km per hour! It’s the only animal I’ve ever seen outrun a cheetah!”

My jaw dropped. This client clearly hadn’t noticed the cheetah catching the warthog in the original video. My next email, carefully worded, explained the limitations of reality and video editing.

The email chain devolved into a hilarious (at first), then frustrating series of demands. The client insisted on the warthog defying nature, adding sound effects of roaring engines, and even requested a CGI flamethrower attached to the warthog’s rear.

It became apparent that the client was trying to capitalize on the recent trend of viral warthog videos. He wanted his own creation to stand out, even if it meant completely disregarding the laws of nature and physics.

Finally, after countless emails and a firm (but respectful) explanation of my limitations, the client accepted a slightly sped-up warthog and a soundtrack more befitting a wildlife documentary. The saga ended with a curt:

Client: “Fine. Just send it.”

The experience left me with a newfound appreciation for clear communication and the occasional laugh at a client’s outlandish requests. But next time someone asks for a warthog with a V10 engine, I’ll politely decline and enjoy the memory of this client’s “Mr. Twin Turbo V8” masterpiece.

A new client commissions me to draw a series of maps. Because these are quite time-consuming, I ask a lot of questions to make sure we are both on the same page with regard to content and style.

After about a week of work, I present him with the final product.

Client: “This is great, but I need some changes to what areas the maps cover.”

Me: “Okay, that’s really a significant change. Since I did my best to make sure I was doing the work you needed beforehand, I’m going to need to charge you for changes. I’m happy to do them, but they are outside the scope of our initial contract.”

He disappears for two months.

After months of chasing him down…

Me: “All right, well, if you’re not going to respond, I’m going to close this contract. You can either pay me to get the final version, or I will find another buyer.”

Client: “No! I want it. I just need you to change one thing.”

Me: “Which is?”

It’s been a month. He still hasn’t told me what that change is.