(I wear a pentacle necklace with Baphomet, the “Satan” goat, every day. Today I’m in a craft store looking at nursery fabrics. I visit this store a lot and I know the basic layout. Two middle-aged women wearing crosses approach me.)

Customer #1: “Excuse me, where are your Velcro strips?”

(I don’t work there. I’m wearing jeans, a Slipknot t-shirt, and arm warmers with belts on them. It couldn’t be farther from the store’s uniform.)

Me: “Oh, do you see the big racks with the big rolls of foam on them? The Velcro should be on a shelf right across from them.”

Customer #1: “Oh, thank you, sweethea—” *notices my necklace, crosses herself and the forehead of her companion, and shuffles away*

(I ignore them and continue looking at the fabric. The manager is manning the cutting counter a few feet away and I overhear them talking to him.)

Customer #1: “Excuse me, ma’am, but I want to file a formal complaint about your employee over there.” *points to me*

Manager: “Uh… Which one, ma’am?”

Customer #2: “That one, right there! The fat one!”

Customer #1: “She’s wearing the ugliest, most sinful necklace. She’s obviously a heathen that’s going to burn in the deepest depths of Hell, and I refuse to shop here while a servant of the Devil is here.”

(The manager stands there, confused and disturbed.)

Customer #2: “Are you just going to stand there staring at her or are you going to tell her to leave?”

Manager: “Well, ma’am, she… Uh…” *pause* “Well, if you continue with your shopping, we’ll handle the situation.”

Customer #1: “Good! I would expect that from a God-fearing Christian.”

(The women moved on happily and I never heard a word from the manager, even after having him cut some fabric for me. The cashier even complimented my necklace!)

Customer: *stops me over by the face painting section* “Excuse me, I’m trying to find the stuff you spray on top of the body markers to make it permanent.”

Me: *baffled* “I’m sorry, did you say permanent, like lasts your whole life permanent?”

Customer: “Yeah, I was told there’s a spray that you can put on body markers to make it permanent.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, there’s setting spray which will make face paint last longer that might work on the markers but spray to make it last your whole life doesn’t exist.”

Customer: *getting huffy* “My daughter has a drawing on her arm that she says is ink made permanent with spray. Are you telling me it doesn’t exist?”

Me: “Ma’am… are you sure it’s not a tattoo?”

(She stares at me in shock, then in utter fury before whipping out her phone and starting to dial. She yells into the phone as soon as she gets connected.)

Customer: “Did you get a tattoo?!”

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(I run a small craft class at friend’s business. It is my second time doing so. The items we make turn out quite well. The small fee of $5 per person only just covers the cost of the materials. I am not worried because I’m not in it for the money. The next week one of the participants is showing off her creation at another group we are members of. Another woman takes interest in the item.)

Woman: “Ooh, that looks great. Are you able to make more, [My Name]?”

Me: *thinking, “here it comes”* “I’ve got a few supplies left. Not much, though.”

Woman: “Oh, great. I have a conference coming up in a few months. You could make some for me.”

Me: “Uh, how many is some?”

Woman: “A thousand.”

Me: “I’m not making a thousand!”

Woman: “Five hundred, then.”

Me: “No. I don’t have the time for that.”

Woman: “I’m giving you three months.”

Me: “How about I give you the instructions? You will need to source the supplies yourself.”

Woman: “I don’t have time to do that.”

Friend: “What makes you think [My Name] has the time, either? She works full-time.”

(This woman is always trying to get people to volunteer to do things for her. I can also see that she has no intentions of offering payment. She becomes insistent until people back down, but it’s never worked with me. She keeps on at me about making them.)

Me: “They will only cost you four or five dollars each to put together. It will be more if I have to do it.”

Woman: “Four or five? What? Maybe I better not.”

(Later:)

Friend: *to me* “I like how she backed off as soon as you mentioned it was going to cost her money.”

Me: “Yep. If I was going to make them, there’s no way I’d be paying.”

(I’m waiting in an art supply store while my mother gets something from the car. I’m waiting there when a woman in her mid 40s comes up to me. Keep in mind, I’m 14, wearing black sweats and a black hoodie.)

Lady: “Can you watch my items for me while I get my purse from my car?”

Me: “Umm… no.”

Lady: “Why not? You are the security guard, aren’t you?”

Me: “No, miss. I’m 14, actually, and do not work here.”

Lady: *walking away while grumbling* “Kids these days.”

(I work at a well-known craft and hobby store. This exchange happens between a customer and my manager.)

Customer: “I have a ceiling fan and I want to paint the part of the light fixture that houses the light bulb. What spray paint would you recommend for that?”

Manager: “Um… I wouldn’t recommend any spray paint for a light fixture. Spray paint is highly toxic and when the fixture heats up, it will smell and release chemicals into the air.”

Customer: “I know, but it’s either this or spend $200 dollars on another ceiling fan that I actually like. What about this one for appliances? It says, ‘special purpose.’”

Manager: “Yes, this one has a stainless steel finish. It will have the same problem, though.”

Customer: “But it says, ‘special purpose!’”

Manager: “It has actual metal in it. That’s why it’s special. It’s still not safe for what you want to do with it.”

Customer: “But it says, ‘special purpose.’”

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