Give Them An Inch And They’ll Ask For A Meter

, , , , | Right | April 13, 2019

(I work in a small comic book shop that is on a street that has metered street parking. I am doing my usual daily routine and a car parks outside of the store. Time passes and the meter officer comes around and sees that their meter is expired, waits a moment, and then proceeds to write them a ticket. These are all normal things that happen in this area because people either run out of time or don’t put money in it at all, so I think nothing of it. Then the family comes back, puts their child in the back seat, and then sees their ticket. I look up because the lady is now freaking out at her husband about how they got a ticket. They enter my store.)

Female Customer: “Why did you guys give me a ticket?! I paid!”

(I stare at her for a moment in pure confusion.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have anything to do with the tickets.”

Female Customer: “We parked right outside your store and had paid the meter behind us! We paid! Take back the ticket!”

Male Customer: “We just made a mistake and paid the wrong meter; there must be something you can do.”

(I’m still massively bewildered that they are coming to me. The woman is angry and yelling at me while the man tries to nicely ask for help.)

Me: “Um… That sucks, but I have nothing to do with the ticket or giving tickets or anything with parking. I just work at this store.”

Female Customer: “Yes! So, you can get rid of the ticket! We were outside your store!”

Me: “I don’t control the parking outside of my store; you’d have to call the number on the meter to try to get help or fight against your ticket.”

Female Customer:What?! Why do I have to call someone! You’re right here!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I seriously have nothing to do with any of the meters or ticketing. I just work at this shop…”

Male Customer: “So, you can’t help us?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, but there’s a number on the meter.”

Female Customer: “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! JUST ‘CAUSE WE PAID THE WRONG METER, I NOW HAVE A TICKET THAT I HAVE TO PAY MORE MONEY FOR, AND YOU CAN’T EVEN HELP US OUT?”

Me: “No.”

(Then, in the angriest huff I think she could manage, she pulled her husband out and started yelling more outside my store about how I was no help at all and that this area is ridiculous with our ticketing laws. Then, they drove off after almost hitting an oncoming car. Sometimes, I don’t understand how people don’t understand.)

Knows Zero About Zatanna

, , , , , , , | Friendly | June 17, 2018

(I’m one of the few female patrons of my local comic shop, and while the staff is awesome, the other patrons can be less so. I’ve just paid for my comics when the guy ahead of me pipes up.)

Customer:Arrow? That’s not a real comic book. You need someone to tell you about real comics.”

Me: “Who’s Zatanna?”

Customer: “Who?”

Me: “Zatanna Zatara. Who is she?”

Customer: “I don’t know—”

Me: “She’s a magician, an extremely powerful logomancer, arguably the most powerful person in the DCU, and my favorite comic character. Sadly, she’s only ever appeared in an episode of Batman TAS and a couple of minor spots in Justice League, so only serious comic geeks know about her. And you didn’t buy anything but Marvel tie-ins.”

Accio Freckles!

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 11, 2017

(Like many redheads, I have freckles, but the darkest ones are on my arms. I’m sitting in a comic shop with my husband and some friends, waiting for the [Trading Card Game] event to start, when a guy that’s new to the area starts talking to me.)

Guy: “So… is your hair naturally red?”

Friend: “[Guy]! That’s rude!”

Me: *waving it off* “I get asked that all the time.” *to the guy* “Yeah, it is.”

Guy: “Well, then, why are your eyebrows brown?”

Me: *shrugging* “I dunno. They were nearly the same color as my hair when I was younger, but as I’ve gotten older, my hair’s gotten brighter and brighter to the point it looks closer to orange, whereas my eyebrows have gone more auburn.”

Guy: “Where are your freckles? I thought redheads had freckles?”

(Upon hearing this, my husband, who has been having a totally different conversation, grabs my arm, holds it up, and points at the freckles.)

Husband: “If she doesn’t have freckles, what are those? Chickenpox?”

Guy: *shaking his head* “No, I meant on her face.”

Me: *waving my hand in front of my face* “Yes, I do have freckles on my face. They’re just super light.”

(The guy’s eyes suddenly bug out as he stares at my face.)

Guy: *gasps* “Witchcraft! You didn’t have freckles a minute ago!”

Me: *chuckles* “Yes, I did. You just didn’t see them.”

Guy: *skeptical* “I guess.”

(He gets up and wanders away, and my husband laughs.)

Husband: “I think if you were a witch, you’d do more interesting tricks than that, right?”

Me: “D*** straight. I’d make my hair literally fiery. Like Chandra’s.”

Magic: The Murdering

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 3, 2017

(My husband and I play [Trading Card Game]. Like most players, we have our valuable cards in binders that we carry with us to our local shop when we go to play, in case someone wants to do trades. A friend asks my husband to trade, so he hands the friend one of our three binders and sits looking at our friend’s binder. Our other two binders are on the table in front of me, and I’m sitting next to my husband, but his back is to me. A random guy that I’ve never seen before sits down at the table across from my husband. Note: some [Trading Card Game] cards are highly sought after and quite valuable, so a person’s binder could be worth anywhere from several hundred to several thousand dollars.)

Guy: “Oh, y’all are trading? Anything good?” *points to our binders* “Whose are these?”

(My husband and [Friend] ignore him as they discuss the cards they’re looking to trade and the value of those cards.)

Me: *pointing to my husband* “They’re our cards. He’s busy with [Friend] right now, so you might as well be talking to a brick wall.”

Guy: “Oh, okay.” *tries to grab the binders, but I snatch them out of his reach* “I just want to look.”

Me: *glaring at him* “Well, [Husband] is busy, and I’m not looking for anything right now. And I don’t know you, so don’t think you can just grab our cards like that!”

Guy: *to my husband* “Hey, man, she won’t let me look at your cards.”

(He snaps his fingers at my husband and I grit my teeth at his impertinence.)

Husband: *obviously annoyed but not looking up* “That’s my wife, and she plays, too, so those cards are half hers. Just wait a minute and we can try to deal, if you have stuff I want.”

Guy: *tries snatching the binders from me again* “I just want to see what he has!”

Me: *slamming the binders on the table as I jump out of my chair, fed up with his arrogance* “Listen here, you a**! I said you couldn’t just grab our cards like that, because I don’t know you! Try touching them again, and I will rip your f****** head off your shoulders, you got it?!”

Guy: *jumps up then glares at me* “You’re crazy!”

Friend: *finally looking up* “Hey, hey! Whooooa!” *to the guy* “[Guy], she told you not to touch their stuff and you didn’t listen and kept trying to grab their money cards, so of course she’s going to get crazy!” *to me* “[My Name], no committing murder. I don’t feel like helping [Shop Owner] and [Employee] mop up his blood, okay?”

Guy: “Whatever, man! I’m out. This chick is crazy.”

(My husband watches the guy leave, then shrugs and kisses my cheek.)

Husband: “And that, baby, is why I love you.”

Has Some Real Drive For Comics

, , | Right | August 14, 2017

(I work in a comic shop. The shop is currently closed for a stock-take; however, we still have many people coming up to our front doors, knocking, and yelling. On this occasion, a woman who looks to be in her 50s slowly makes her way up to our glass doors, I see her gawp at the “closed for stock-take” signs on our door as I’m sorting through comics. She begins to yell through the door and knock very loudly.)

Woman: “WHEN ARE YOU GUYS OPEN AGAIN?!”

(My male coworker is talking to her through the door as I’m watching.)

Coworker: “Possibly tomorrow? Sorry, but we’re not entirely sure. It’s probably safe to come back in a few days. Sorry about that.”

Woman: “NOT GOOD ENOUGH. I DROVE 20 HOURS TO GET TO THE CITY TODAY!”

(The woman storms off.)

Me: *to confused coworker* “20 hours?”

(There were also three other comic shops on the same street…)

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