I’m working the box office at a large event space. An art show is in town and it proving to be very popular.

Customer: “I’d like a ticket to [Art Event], please.”

Me: “For which date?”

Customer: “Uh… right now? Duh.”

Me: “Today’s event has been sold out for two weeks. The website advises that the events are always sold out on the day and that you need to pre-book.”

Customer: “Your website doesn’t say that sold out means there aren’t tickets available.”

Me: “Because it doesn’t need to. Most people know what sold out means.”

Customer: “The art sucks anyway!” *Storms off.*

Occasionally, I run live sound for local musicians and events. It’s not my full-time job, but I’m skilled at it.

I was asked to do an event for a local band with a special guest from out of town recently, and then I was asked to do a second event with the same people at another venue the next day. The first event came around and went off without a hitch. Everyone was happy, and after it was done, I confirmed when setup and soundcheck were the next day.

I arrived at the appointed time to find that I was locked out of the network I had set up to use. I went back to the soundboard and found someone else there fiddling with the settings. I asked him what was up, and he said he’d be running sound today. He also said someone had messed with all the settings on the board, and he was in there until 2:00 am the night before fixing everything. (I was the last person on that board for rehearsal two nights before.)

Now, I’m not someone who likes confrontation, so I went to find the person who was second in charge to find out what was going on. She told me that the person in charge found out that her friend had come into town the night before, and he wanted to mix that day, so I wasn’t needed. Okay, fine. I was already there after a decently long drive, and I liked the band. I just hung out to hear them without having to mix the sound.

Since I was early, I was able to watch the soundcheck and see quite a few problems crop up that had not been problems two days earlier — EQ getting really muddy, monitors not working properly for almost everyone, etc. I just sat back and watched a bit of a dumpster fire for the next couple of hours. The band was still great, and the special singer was great, but it was hard to tell with the harsh mix coming through.

After the show, I talked with some of the musicians to see if I had missed something during rehearsal that had thrown the system into chaos. Nope, everything worked great when we left it after rehearsal. The only thing we could figure was that the new sound guy had come in and completely erased everything that was set up and had to reset the board from ground zero, including EQ and monitor mixes. If he wasn’t so arrogant and quick to blame anyone but himself, I easily could’ve set him right as I had all my setup saved. But he burned that bridge within my first minute of talking with him. I don’t think he learned anything, but I got a bit of satisfaction hearing how bad it was.

I was volunteering at a local community picnic. I didn’t have much choice in my position, but I was placed on the snack station. This station had snowcone machines, cotton candy machines, and a popcorn maker. It was not the most high-tech tech, but it was still nice. I was working with just one other person, and we had some traffic. There were some incidents, like kids adding extra flavouring to their popcorn or throwing ice at each other, but it was nothing that wasn’t manageable — classic kid’s stuff.

Now enter [Kid], who was around five years old. He ordered a cotton candy. I served it to him, and he ate it and left. He later came back and asked how it was made, so I picked him up and asked my friend to make it so I could show it to him.

Then, [Kid] asked if he could touch the heating element that spins and spits out the floss. I told him that it was really hot and demonstrated it with a small drop of water. He then said his hand was not water, so he could touch it. I told him again that it was too hot, and he did not like that. He started crying, but I told him it wasn’t worth finding out, and instead, he could scoop a bit of sugar and have another cotton candy for free. He took his candy and headed out (still crying).

Then, his mother came back with him.

Mother: “My son told me you didn’t let him have the cotton candy.”

Me: “Um, I’m not sure about that because I gave him two — one of which he made himself.”

Mother: *To [Kid]* “Then what’s wrong?”

Kid: “He didn’t let me touch it!”

Mother: “Oh, that’s it?”

She turned back to me.

Mother: “Just let him touch; he’s a kid!”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s a really hot heating element. It melts sugar instantly, so I can’t let him touch it and risk his hand burning.”

Mother: “You have your hand near it, and you are doing fine. It’s just for a few seconds.”

Me: “No, I can’t allow that. I’m sorry.”

Mother: *To [Kid]* “Well, I’m sorry. Maybe another day.”

Kid: “I want to touch it, though!”

Mother: “Another day when he’s not here.”

They then walked away, with [Kid] constantly nagging and tugging on [Mother]’s clothes. My friend and I decided it was done, but he chose to tell the event organizer. God bless him for that.

Around twenty minutes later, the staff told us to turn off the equipment for a while so that we could have our meal. We put up a sign, turned off the equipment, and headed over.

Cotton candy machines are still hot even after you turn them off. Metal is still metal, and metal conducts heat. Around five minutes after we left, [Mother] lifted her kid to touch it. One of the event attendants then screamed at her to stop, which shocked her, and she accidentally forced her son’s hand onto the heating element. Cue [Kid] screaming!

Kid: “AHHHHHH!”

I heard it, ran out of the nearby tent, and checked on him. The event organizers and other attendants brought a first aid kit and helped him. As this was happening, [Mother] started blaming me for the occurrence.

Mother: “Why didn’t you turn it off?”

Me: “I did! You can see the power is off, and it is disconnected.”

The event manager came over.

Event Manager: “I don’t think they are at fault. I saw you picking up your kid, and they told me you wanted to do this before.”

Mother: “Well, he didn’t tell me it would have burned his hand!”

Event Manager: “There are also signs on the side of the machine saying that you should not touch it.”

Mother: “Well, if you’d let him touch it first, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Event Manager: “Are you hearing yourself? Your kid just burned his hand, and you wanted them to let him touch it? At least this time, we are all here, and you are with him.”

Mother: “Oh, so you are blaming me? I paid for the ticket; you should be on my side. My son burned his hand, and you think I wanted him to do it? I wanted him to be able to see the tool. He’s just tall enough to see it.”

Event Manager: “So, you asking them to let him touch it before didn’t happen?” *Gestures to me* “Him telling you that it was hot didn’t happen? The warnings on the device don’t exist? You lifting your son and pressing his hand didn’t happen?”

Mother: “If I weren’t scared, then it wouldn’t have happened!”

Event Manager: “You shouldn’t have had him in that position to begin with.”

The argument then went on for a while before [Mother] backed down and took [Kid] to (presumably) a hospital. [Event Manager] and most of the attendants were on our side. Wanting to touch a heating element was not something I even imagined was a possibility, let alone from a parent.

PS: At the end of the event, both of us (my friend and I) were given some marinated chicken to take home for our transgressions!

When I was about ten, there was an air show put on at my hometown’s airport. The main attraction was the US Navy’s Blue Angels, but there were several other impressive airplane and parachuting acts. Also, several military aircraft were flown in and parked off of the runway for people to marvel at.

As I was walking around, I saw several people sitting atop one of the transport planes. I looked around and found out how they must’ve climbed up there. I then climbed up myself and started socializing with them. One of them was the pilot who actually flew that plane into the air show.

Just before the Blue Angels were to start their flyovers, a group of people shouted up to the pilot and asked if they could climb up. He turned them down, saying that everyone up there was just immediate family and close friends. I immediately felt embarrassed, since I was neither.

Then, the pilot turned to me, gave me $20, and asked if I would go get some refreshments from the food vendors. I quickly went and got him everything he asked for. After I delivered the food, he didn’t say anything about me not being family or a friend. He simply let me stay up there to get a great view of the show.

A friend of mine has been hired to sell last-minute tickets for a costumed float parade event in town. A man without a costume approaches the till.

Man: “Hello, I would like to purchase ten tickets.”

Friend: “Sure, that will be [amount].”

Man: “Actually, that should be [much smaller amount] because I have a military discount.”

Friend: “Can you provide me with IDs for all the tickets? Even a picture is enough.”

Man: “What? Of course not. I didn’t think I had to show anything to get a discount. Why would I think of that?”

Friend: “Well, can you show me your own ID, then?”

Man: “I— I forgot it home! C’mon, man. I rotated out of Bosnia a week ago. I need my rest.”

Friend: “What, did you time travel? Italy left Bosnia ages ago.”

The man huffed, punched the plexiglass screen between himself and my friend, and stomped off. My friend’s colleagues told him that the man was a notorious scalper trying to get a military discount, with very little success outside of absolute rookie cashiers.

I think some people should learn to put their time to better use than trying to scam people trying to visit an event by pretending to be a soldier with actual service under their belt.