I’m working at a coffee shop near the entrance to a large convention center. One of the counter workers comes to find me at the back, looking a little bemused.

Coworker: “Uh, we got a customer out front. I think he’s one of your people.”

Me: “My people?”

Coworker: “Just come and see.”

Intrigued, I walk out to the front… to see a full-dressed Klingon warrior ordering a frappe. He’s got everything down perfectly: the hair, the forehead makeup, the clothing, the boots. Apparently, my coworker was a little concerned because the Klingon was carrying a ceremonial Klingon blade on his back, but even from here, I can tell that it’s a simple prop that couldn’t cut butter. (A Bat’leth for those wondering.)

Me: *Walking up.* “Nice get up, uh…” *I look at the name on the drinks order.* “…K’var, son of K’takk. You know Comicon is next week, right?”

Customer: “I care not for your weak human time units! I care only for a Warrior’s drink!”

Me: *Checking his order.* “Strawberry frappe?”

Customer: “Your petaQ here did not carry blood wine! Or prune juice!”

Me: “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem. Hopefully, the frappe will stir your warrior’s spirit enough until your next battle.”

Customer: “Finally! A human who gets it! I like you! When my death comes, I will drink blood wine in your honor from Sto’vo’kor!”

The Klingon throws down some “weak human money units” for his drink and charges out, laughing like some drunk space pirate.

Coworker: “Like I said, one of your people.”

Me: “You mean a Trekkie?”

Coworker: “Yeah! You know what all those words were.”

Me: “I mean, sure, but I still don’t have an explanation as to why we got one a full week before Comicon.”

Coworker: “Practice?”

We both shrug it off as such, and I laugh at my memorable encounter with K’var, son of K’takk.

The next day, a ‘human’ customer walks in and asks if a drunk Klingon was in our store the day before.

Me: “Well, we certainly had a Klingon. It’s hard to tell if Klingons are drunk or just… well… being Klingon.”

Customer: “Yeaaaah… that was me. Some friends and I did the costumes as prep for Comicon, and we liked the look so much we drank to celebrate… in costume. I woke up the next day still in costume with a killer hangover, and a cup from here with a receipt.”

Me: “Well, I guess that explains that!”

Customer: “Was… was I a good Klingon?”

Me: “Man, you were the best!”

K’var, son of K’takk came back every day of ComiCon the next week, bringing all of his Klingon buddies. They were a riot (the good kind!)

I work in a venue that offers different types of events, panels, and signings. We’re well known in the industry for offering these events to the public for free or at a low cost. Today, we’re featuring a signing of several people who worked on a few popular video game franchises in honor of their company having a significant anniversary.

For signings, our rules tend to change event to event, but we always limit the number of things someone can have signed to two per person. This is to make sure everyone in line has time to get their items signed; you wouldn’t believe how much longer it takes to get hundreds of people through a signing line with just one extra item.

As we don’t charge for signatures, we sometimes charge a fee if the guest brings personal items to sign instead of buying something from our store. Considering most conventions charge a high price for admission on top of signing fees, we feel this is a perfectly fair way to run our events at a low cost to the customer, but I’ve still seen plenty of people try to break our rules to get extra items signed or to avoid paying any fee at all.

This is one of those times.

A man loiters at the back of the line, holding several complimentary flyers we had made for the event. The idea is that people can write a message to the company and place it on a nearby wall with tape as a way to show appreciation for the games they’ve made or take one home as a keepsake.

When the man reaches the front of the line, I can see he’s holding at least FIFTY of these flyers, easily taking the majority of the batch we laid out for the evening. We’re not charging for an outside item at this event, so it’s odd that he’d want some cheap flyers signed instead of some memorabilia from home, but it’s two items for the signing, so I remind him as he gets up to the signing table.

Me: “Sir, the limit is two items per person.”

Guest: “Oh, sure, sure. Yeah, this was kind of a last-minute thing for me. I didn’t have time to get anything.”

There is plenty of time to buy something from our store; we have an event poster made that’s just $10, for example. I assume he means he just found out about the event while out and about and didn’t have time to go home to grab something more personal.

Me: *Gesturing to the large stack of flyers in his hand.* “Of course. Still, you can only get two of those signed.”

Guest: *Sounding a bit defensive.* “I mean, but then what’s the point?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Guest: “Just two of these things, what, signed by all of them?”

His tone indicates that he thinks the flyers are inconsequential, as they are cheap. I realize now this customer intends to get each flyer, of which he his holding at least fifty, signed individually, not even jointly, by the signers, something that would truly take up so much time. I have no idea what he intends to do with so many signatures, but either way, it’s not possible.

Me: “If you want something more than just flyers, you’re welcome to buy something else in the store and rejoin the line. I’ll hold your place for you. Otherwise, you can get two flyers signed.”

Guest: “Yeah, well… times are tight, and I’m just saying, this was a kind of last-minute thing for me.”

The customer keeps repeating this in various interactions, as if only recently being aware of the event means he doesn’t have to follow the rules. I repeat myself again, fully prepared to have him step out of line, but a friend of his wanders over.

Guest’s Friend: “Dude, why did you grab all of these? They’re for people to share.”

The friend, bless him, takes all but two flyers away from the guest, who gives up protesting at this point, and takes them back to the wall so other people can use them. The guest goes up to the signers with his two flyers and stomps away.

I understand that times are expensive now, which is why our venue keeps ticket fees low and runs free events. We don’t make any money if no one shops in our store during the event, which is why we offer a range of merchandise for each event at a reasonable price range. We’re still a small business, so cheap people like this really irk me. If you value a service a business provides, support them.

Flyer guy, I don’t know if you’re reading this, but if everyone behaved like you, we’d never be able to host another event like this again.

I used to work the phones in a small convention center in a big town, which was actually a pretty fun job overall. But this was the best thing that ever happened to me there:

Me: “Good morning, [Convention Center].”

Caller: “Hello. My name is Shiny Sparkle Diamond Glitter, and I have been blessed with the second sight!”

She says nothing else, so I follow up.

Me: “…and how may I help you?”

Caller: “Well, I’ll be attending your [Popular Comicon Styled Event] convention next week and I was wondering if I might set up a table to share my gift.”

Me: “Ah. Actually, you’ll need to talk to the conference organizers about reserving space—”

Caller: “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Sometimes I flash between the present and the future.”

I work in a national coffee chain, but I’ve been asked to help out at the branch at the convention center as it’s Comicon weekend and they are packed. I’m preparing drinks when another Barista calls out a finished order:

Barista: “Okay, I got a Venti non-fat, sugar-free vanilla, caramel macchiato for Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Riix, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed!” 

I catch eyes with the barista; I guess I must have looked puzzled.

Barista: “It’s Comicon, baby!” 

I see a woman walk up and get the drink, wearing a long flowy robe that seems to mesh sci-fi with fantasy. Turns out it was my boss!

I work in the customer service center for a large convention center. I get a call from someone trying to get to us from the airport. It is my last day before leaving and going to college, and my patience for stupid has run out.

Me: “Okay, sir, if you’re at the airport, I need you to follow the signs to the freeway and take the lane heading to [City].”

Caller: “I can’t see anything.”

Me: “You can’t see the signs to the freeway?”

Caller: “I can’t see anything! You need to tell me where to go!”

Me: “You’re at the airport, right? What can you see?”

Caller: “No, I left the airport already! I’m driving! I can’t see anything! You need to tell me where to go!”

Me: “What can you see? What signs are you seeing as you drive?”

Caller: “No! There’s nothing! I can’t see anything! I need directions!”

Me: “Sir, please just look for any road sign or street name and—”

Caller: “No! Why aren’t you listening!? There is nothing! I can’t see anything! I’m just driving, but there’s nothing here! Give me directions and get me out of here!” 

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but it sounds like you’ve left our dimension and are now driving through a void between realities. Please call back when you find yourself back in a recognizable manifold.” *Click*