My daughter and I are browsing through a shop that sells handmade items. As we are both avid crafters, we decide to ask the proprietor about selling some of our items in the shop.

I approach the proprietor and ask politely how we could go about doing so.

The owner looks disdainfully at my daughter and me and snaps:

Owner: “I don’t just take any old rubbish. What do you do?”

I’m taken aback a bit by her attitude.

Me: “Well, uh, we both crochet, and I sew, as well.”

Owner: *Rudely* “I have standards; I will only accept high-grade items, They have to be your own designs; I don’t want anything from patterns that have been stolen off the Internet or things like that. I also need exclusive rights to anything you make to sell; you won’t be able to sell anything elsewhere.”

She turns her back on me and goes back to the counter. I put down the items I intended to buy.

Me: “[Daughter], come on. We’re leaving. There’s no way I am buying anything here.”

She nods and puts down what she has, too.

As we are passing on our way out, I overhear the proprietor talking to a couple of customers at the counter. They are looking for wedding decorations

Owner: “If you just bring pictures of decorations you find on the Internet, I can copy anything you need.”

That store didn’t last long; it was empty when I passed a couple of months later.

I have an opening cashier shift. As it’s early, it isn’t too busy, so I am by myself up front. About twenty minutes after the store opens, I have two people in my line. The second is a woman who is probably about sixty.

Older Woman: “This is such a long wait!”

Heaven forbid she should wait one minute for me to finish up the person in front of her.

Older Woman: “Open another register!”

I call a coworker who has been putting stock away.

Older Woman: “We come early so that we don’t have to deal with the crowds!”

I’m a seventeen-year-old girl working for a chain craft store. I’m on my lunch break shopping as a normal customer, with no uniform or identification that says I work there. This man comes running up to me.

Man #1: “Do you work here?”

Me: “Yes, but technically not right now, since I’m on my lunch and not being paid.”

He proceeds to ignore my entire sentence. He grabs me by the arm. This man is probably in his early thirties, and as I stated before, I am seventeen and I’m a very small female. He begins to drag me to the register.

Man #1: “Your cashier needs help, and I’ve been waiting for my change for five minutes now!”

Me: “Please remove your hand from me before I drop these candles.”

To his benefit, he does. We make it up to the front, and there is a long line with one cashier working. I proceed to just page over the PA system for backup and go back to my lunch break.

The next thing I know, the man’s friend comes up to me and also grabs me by the arm to drag me to the registers.

Me: “What is with you and your friend and your need to put your hands on me?! Now please remove them before I get someone to escort you out!”

My manager then approaches me.

Manager: “Can you please hop on a register for just a couple of minutes? You’ll get an extra five for your lunch.”

Annoyed, I do what they ask and hop on a register. I start ringing up the guy who grabbed me. He has a $3,000 basket of sewing lights and Visa gift cards, and he pulls out a wad of cash. I take the cash from him, and it definitely doesn’t feel right, so I put it through our bill readers and mark the bills with the counterfeit marker. Both indicate that these are fake bills.

I hand back all the money he gave me.

Me: “This money is fake. You need to leave the store, and you are not welcome back. I will be informing my manager, and they will decide whether a police report needs to be filed.”

The guy fast-walked out the door. l told my manager everything and told them I’d be needing fifteen minutes more lunch time since the guy took up eighteen minutes of my time and wasted them. I didn’t get the extra lunch time.

I work in a craft store. We have these fancy “natural light” lamps on display next to a crappy generic lamp to show the difference in lighting quality. A customer comes up to me and points at the crappy lamp.

Customer: “I want to buy this lamp.”

Me: “That’s just a display item; it’s not actually for sale.”

Customer: “Get me your supervisor!”

I get my supervisor and the rant continues. The woman puts her hand on a nearby shelf and yells:

Customer: “You mean to tell me that if I wanted to buy this shelf you wouldn’t sell it to me?!”

Supervisor: “That’s exactly what we’re telling you.”

She actually ran out of steam after that and left.

I used to work in a craft store infamous for being understaffed. This problem was made worse with the global health crisis, as bored people were flocking to us for crafts and we weren’t hiring anyone to keep up with the workload.

On top of that, corporate added curbside to our duties, bragging on our website that we could have an order ready in two hours. We were never able to get an order ready that fast, leading to a barrage of complaints.

One weekend, I was ringing up a huge line of customers when a man came in.

Customer: “I’m [Customer]? I’m here for my order?”

Me: “Did you receive an email telling you it was ready?”

Customer: “Well, no.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but your order isn’t ready yet. Once it’s complete, you will receive an email.”

Customer: “But your website said it would be ready in two hours!”

Coworker: “We’re sorry. We do work to get orders as fast as we can, but we have a very short staff and a lot of people, so you’ll have to wait just a bit longer.”

Customer: *Outraged* “I still have to wait for my order?!”

Me: *Fed up with him* “So does everyone else!”

Customer: “I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYONE ELSE!”

At this, the crowd of customers all turned to glare at him. He became sheepish and sulked off.

Customer #2: *To me* “Boy, the people you put up with…”

In the end, our manager finished his order next and he received it, and apparently, he apologized for losing his temper.

Sometimes you have to appreciate the power of an angry mob.