(I run a precious gems and minerals booth at a trade show. A customer walks up to me and does some looking around first.)

Customer: “Do you buy things?”

Me: “Sometimes. Is it minerals?”

Customer: “Sorta, yeah.”

(The customer takes out a palm sized velvet pouch.)

Customer: “I have a friend that cuts rocks and does things to them. I had him make me a set of ruby quartz flat gems and paint them with gold leaf. They’re kinda rare, and I was hoping to get $90 for them.”

Me: “That depends…”

(I hold out my hand for the bag. Instead he opens it, and pours out a couple of red glass, aka ‘fused quartz’ flat facet gems with runes on them in gold color paint. One has a chip in corner.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but these are in the trade wholesale catalogs in five colors, come with a booklet, and retail for $20. Without the book and damaged, best I could hope to get is $5, so that means I won’t pay you that much.”

Customer: “How dare you! Bad karma ON YOU! My friend spent TWO WEEKS cutting and carving these!”

(I spot another vendor across from me, talking to security.)

Vendor Across From Me: “Yeah, that’s the guy!”

Customer: *Oh, s***!”

(The customer took off, leaving the bag. Security got him before he got out the door. If he had gone all the way around my booth, he would have seen that I have full sets, in all five colors for sale, with the booklet, for less than $20. Bad karma indeed.)

(I’m browsing booths at an exposition and see one advertising massages. I go over.)

Me: “Hi. What are your rates?”

Worker: “Well, we have a ten-minute massage for eight dollars.”

Me: “Thanks. I’ll be back later once I’ve—”

Worker: “But we have spray tabs for real cheap!”

Me: “I’m more interested in the—”

Worker: “And Botox! We can fix your face!”
 
(I left and never came back.)

(I’m working as event staff for a major anime convention. My job is to “badge-check” discussion panel events, which means I check and make sure customers have tickets.)

Supervisor: “Go badge-check the panel in [room]!”

Me: “But I’m on break.”

Supervisor: “I know, but [coworker] just decided she’s not going to do it.”

Me: “Just… decided?”

Supervisor: “Yes! So, go in her place!”

(I do. As I badge-check for my coworker’s panel, and a customer approaches.)

Customer: “What time does the panel start?”

Me: “7. It’s only 6:30 now, though. So you have time to leave and come back.”

Customer: “Can I go ahead in now and wait?”

(I look into the room where the panel is going to be. At least five customers are already sitting in there, so I assume my coworker had started letting them in before I got there.)

Me: “I don’t see why not. Just let me badge-check you first.”

(The customer complies and I let him in. Several more customers follow him, and as they all have tickets, I let them pass. Later, when I’m at a different panel event, the supervisor approaches me looking angry and upset.)

Supervisor: “Oh my god, you’ve started a riot!”

Me: “I… what? How?”

Supervisor: “Look outside!”

(I do, and spot a restless, angry line of customers literally around the block trying to get into the panel from earlier.)

Me: “How did this happen?!”

Supervisor: “You weren’t supposed to let customers in the room ’til promptly 7!”

Me: “Nobody told me that! There were customers in the room already!”

Supervisor: “They had been there during the previous panel event and never left the room! Now you’ve overbooked the event!”

Me: “All I was told to do was badge-check. It wasn’t even my panel.”

Supervisor: “It wasn’t? Then why were you badge-checking it?”

Me: “Because you told me to!”

Supervisor: “I did?”

(My friend wants to sign up for a ‘Dance Dance Revolution’ contest, and drags me with her to the sign up table.)

Friend: “Sign me up!”

Registration: “What’s your name?”

(She gives registration her name and he puts her down on the chart. Then he turns to me.)

Registration: “And your name?”

Me: “Oh, no. I’m not playing, thanks.”

Registration: “Why not?”

Me: “Um… my boots are too heavy.”

(I show him the four-inch platform costume combat boots I have on. Upon seeing this, the guy working registration slowly pushes himself back from the table. He turns in his chair, so I can see his legs. One of his legs is a prosthetic, which he seems to have enforced with duct tape at the thigh.)

Registration: “I’m playing. What’s your excuse again?”

Me: “…sign me up.”

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(My girlfriend, friend, and I, are working at a beer tasting event for free tickets. We have to pour beer for people. For some reason all the tasters think I am awesome.)

Taster #1: “Dude, you actually know your stuff. I’m going to tell everyone to come here!”

Me: “Right on, man!”

Taster #2: “Seriously you are awesome. Here’s my number!”

Me: “Oh! Thanks!”

(The taster winks and walks away.)

Girlfriend: “Did that guy just give you his number?”

Me: “Yep!”

Girlfriend: “Seriously? All I’ve gotten is drunk guys staring at my boobs!”

Me: “I also got a tip, free onion rings, another number, and those group of dudes are chanting my name all through the hall.”

Girlfriend: “I seriously have no idea how you do it.”

Friend: “Honestly, nothing is ever normal went it comes to him.”

Me: “I think it’s confidence, or I’m just adorable.”

(In the end, I never did call that guy, but I did get more tips and a drunk girl called me a teddy bear.)