This story takes place back in early 2022. The privately owned arts and crafts supply store I’ve worked at for years is sadly closing down due to the owner’s health. The owner, who is also my direct boss and works alongside me on the shop floor almost every day, is a fantastic woman and has basically adopted me. She is also a great boss and has thus always given us employees free rein to deal with a**hole customers however we see fit.

Sadly, I have had to make use of that free rein an insane amount of times during the past two years (with mask mandates and such rules setting off customers on honestly frightening fits of rage), so between that, the store closing down in a few weeks, and entitled customers rudely trying to get me to discount the last remaining wares of our closing sale (which already gives them 75% off anyway), I am on my last nerve.

In the middle of the busy period of our sale, with the lines on both our registers reaching almost the other end of the store, a woman comes up with a basket full of ribbons that we sell by the meter, and she wants to buy all of it. All of these rolls have a good amount cut off already and are nowhere near full.

Customer: “I’ll take everything that’s left of all these.”

Me: “Of course. I’ll just have to measure what’s left on the rolls so I can give you the final prices.”

Customer: “What?! But that’s going to take forever! I’m actually doing you a great service by taking all of these off your hands, so you should just give me a good price for the whole set!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but the only way I could do that would be by giving you the prices of the full rolls minus 75%.”

Customer: “Urgh, no, that’s too much. Go ahead and measure it!”

I do. One of my colleagues helps me while my boss and another colleague take care of the other register and the other customers in the store, respectively. If you’ve ever tried to roll up ribbons of different widths, you’ll know it takes forever, especially if you try to neatly put it back on the roll.

We employees have a technique to roll it up on our hands in a neat little skein that will easily unravel as much as you need it to by pulling on one end, and it’s a very fast way of rolling up any kind of ribbon/string/yarn, so we won’t hold up the line even longer after even just measuring all her ribbons already took ages.

However, the woman is having none of it.

Customer: “What are you doing there?! Stop that! I want them back on the rolls they came on!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t do that at this time. However, you are welcome to take the empty bobbins with you and roll up the ribbons however you see fit yourself.”

Customer: “What?! No! This is terrible service! I demand you roll them up properly right now!“

Me: “Ma’am, we are currently in the middle of a rush, and I am not willing to hold up all these other people for something like this. We do not have the time and are honestly not making enough money off of these with the sale price to justify that amount of extra work.”

Customer: “You will do as I tell you, you insolent little girl!”

Note that I am in my mid-twenties. My coworker, who is nearly double my age and still standing next to me, is very non-confrontational, so I have already motioned for her to not step in.

Me: “Lady, I am not having this discussion with you, and I will not tolerate you speaking to me like this. You will take these ribbons the way they are now or leave.”

Customer: “Shut up and do as I tell you, or I will have your boss fire you! And don’t you think you can dictate what I buy!”

I have now had it with this woman. I reach out and snatch the ribbons out from under her hand and shove the entire pile, ribbons and bobbins and all, back into the shopping basket with one sweeping motion.

Me: “And that’s where you’re wrong. You won’t be buying anything from us today — or ever again, for that matter. I am refusing you service.”

Customer: “You can’t do that! I am going to complain!”

Me: “This store is closing down; I do not care. Leave quietly, or I will have to have you removed for trespassing as you are now banned — for what it’s worth for the remaining [weeks].”

She did, in fact, leave, albeit not without yelling. The next customers apologized to me that I had to deal with that and commended me for staying calm. When I told my boss about the encounter later, after the rush of customers had died down considerably, all she had to say was, “Good riddance!” Then, she bought me some chocolate.

I am working at a craft store, checking out people at registers, when my foot slides off the ancient mats and something in my foot’s bones clicks. Three days of work missed, workman’s comp, and a few X-rays later, I’m in a medical boot that finally lets me walk without a ton of pain.

A couple of weeks go by, and I’m at work in the boot feeling much better, getting around at a good pace, and even running faster than my middle-aged manager to grab a call.

The night comes to an end, and we start the closing process. At this store, we almost always only have a maximum of three people including a manager to close the store; some nights it’s two. This isn’t a lack of employees; it’s corporate orders to save money

So, there I am, sitting behind the very large framing desk, inputting the paperwork on the computer while sitting on a stool to ease off my foot, when a lady stomps up and yells:

Lady: “FINALLY!”

Surprised, I lean around my computer.

Me: *Politely* “How may I help you?”

She huffs and gives a gesture toward our floor.

Lady: “Yes, you may! There is no one anywhere to help me! The only person is that girl at the registers who refuses to help me.”

She says “girl” in a snide, venomous way.

Folks on registers cannot leave the area but usually point you in the correct direction. I start to get up to help her when she says, “This place is a mess,” and then something that is a major dig at my coworkers. I can’t remember her wording now; I just remember being incredibly pissed at it.

At this point, I have an idea.

Me: *Standing up* “I’m so incredibly sorry, ma’am. What were you looking for? I can help you.”

Lady: *Haughtily* “Your glassware. You know, for flowers?”

Me: “Of course!”

I start to limp around the counter that has obscured everything below my apron pockets until now.

Me: “Vases are this way. We currently don’t have any in seasonal, but we do have our standard stock.”

The lady gasps and stammers when I have fully emerged from behind the counter.

Lady: “Oh— Oh, no, it’s fine! You could just… just point me in the direction…”

Me: “No, no, it’s fine! It’s this way. Follow me.”

I proceed to slowly limp, favoring my boot more than I have in weeks and adding some swing in my shoulders for effect. I apologize for the lack of employees on the floor and take her to the vases — which are very easy to find, I’ll have you know.

I grab the vase she wants from the top shelf and make a show of checking it for chips.

Me: “Is there anything else I can help you find?”

She straight-up refuses to look me in the eyes.

Lady: *Muttering* “No, I’m good, thank you… I’m sorry.”

And she walked away. I went back to the frame shop and had an amazing laugh.

I hope she thinks about it at night while staring at the ceiling.

I work as a picture framer in a craft store. I am pregnant and have a toddler at home, so I am down to part-time hours. As such, many times, I’ve been off when an order was taken yet there when it is time for it to be picked up.

It’s the holiday season, and framing is fifty percent off. We’ve been slammed for two months. I’m at the framing register when a woman rudely interrupts a sale I’m conducting to inform me:

Customer: “I’m here to pick up my order, and it had better be right, because you people can f*** up a wet dream.”

I am instantly grossed out by her, and she is no slouch by any means: extremely well-dressed, expensive haircut and perfume, huge diamond ring.

Me: “I’ll be right with you.”

She huffs and puffs.

When it’s her turn, she gives me her last name but not her purchase ticket. We clearly instruct everyone to have that ticket because the item number marked on it makes the item easier to find. She doesn’t have it and instead just repeats her first and last name LOUDER.

I go to look for her order. I get a sick feeling when I cannot find it. I look again. And again.

By now, the customer is getting red in the face.

Customer: “You’d better not have lost my picture! That’s a priceless piece of art!”

I know when I’m in deep, so I ring my manager. The manager comes and tries to calm the customer down and also helps me look.

Eventually, we bring EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF FRAMED WORK OUT and unwrap it, thinking perhaps hers was mislabeled. With every single one, the customer is violently shaking her head, yelling:

Customer: “NOPE, NO, NOT IT! WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH YOU IDIOTS?! HOW HARD IS IT, G**D*** YOU?!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m afraid that you’re going to have to return tomorrow. We’ll take the store apart after closing, and we will find it.”

She’s screaming and raging at this point, but somehow, we get her out.

After hours, I have to stay and search with my manager. We look for THREE HOURS. My manager says she will have to call the district manager and ask how to proceed since this customer is threatening legal action.

I go home and fall into bed, sobbing. I have the next two days off, but I am so paranoid to go back to work.

When I get there, everyone in my department is smiling. so I figure it must have been found.

Me: “Did you guys find that customer’s order?”

Coworker: “Nope.”

Me: “Oh, no!”

I am thinking today will be the day she shows back up, just my luck.

My manager comes to find me later and apologizes profusely for keeping me so late on “The Terror Day”.

Me: “It’s fine, but what’s happened? Is she suing?”

Manager: “No. I called all the other [Company] stores within an hour of here and found out that she had it framed in another store.”

A lady comes into our craft and sewing store looking for something to patch the hole in her designer blouse. To be clear, the blouse is made of some super lightweight fabric too fine to take an iron-on patch and in a print specific to the designer.

Me: “Ma’am, nothing we have at [Chain Store] will mend it invisibly.”

Customer: “That’s not good enough! This garment cost more than you could ever afford!”

When we could get a word in edgewise, someone recommended a professional repair place. That’s not good enough either:

Customer: “I’ve already had a quote from them, and the cost was ridiculous!”

I am in a large fabric store and a lady has a toddler who is running wild; pulling fabric off the shelves. When the mom finally notices and puts the child in the cart, the kid throws a loud screaming tantrum which the mom also ignores.

Seeing the looks on the faces of other shoppers and the clerk, I do what she could not.

Me: “Excuse me, you’re ruining the shopping experience of all of us. Please take the child to your car until they’ve calmed down.”

She grabs the child in a huff and leaves the store. I saw her pull out of the lot. The clerk thanked me when I checked out.