I was at the market, and I bought four of a product that cost $7. The stall owner looked confused, so I volunteered “$28” for him. He shook his head.

Owner: “Nah, that’s not right.”

He called out to another stall owner.

Owner: “Hey, what’s four times $7?”

Owner #2: “$26, I think.”

Owner: *To me* “See, I knew you were wrong.”

Me: “Oh, boy, was I!”

I left him a $2 “tip” since I’m not a monster.

I am working at an indoor food market in a mall. We are selling a selection of fancy European cheeses. A woman walks up and starts to browse.

Customer: “Why are these all so expensive?”

Me: “They’re all imported from Europe, so it costs a bit extra to keep them fresh on the journey. The one you’re holding is a special type of Gouda from The Netherlands.”

Customer: “Netherlands? Sounds like a made-up place!”

Me: “Haha, I know, right? Sounds like something out of a book.”

Customer: “I still don’t see what’s so special about this cheese.”

Me: “Well, it’s a special type that’s been made by the same cheesemakers using the same method for over five hundred years.”

Customer: “Don’t be ridiculous! There weren’t even people five hundred years ago, let alone cheese!”

Me: “Uh… I’m pretty sure people have been around for a bit longer than that.”

Customer: “America is only, like, two hundred years old.”

Me: “There were people before America.”

Customer: “Learn that in a public school, did ya? This is why I’m glad I was homeschooled and why I homeschool my kids!”

She puts the cheese down and wanders off. I look over at a stall owner next to me, who understands my shocked face.

Stall Owner: “Happens more often than you’d think, sadly. A lot of these older people who were homeschooled and didn’t have the Internet growing up have some… strange ideas. Thankfully, some of my kid’s friends who are homeschooled use the Internet to basically undo everything their parents are teaching them these days. That’s the one good thing I have to say about the Internet!”

To this day, that’s still the most “out there” moment I have had with a customer.

I’m the same author who submitted this story. As stated in the first story, I don’t sell my sewn or knitted items in person very often, but I do rent a booth at a local flea market if I have a lot of items left over from my online store. Here’s another story from the flea market.

I’m set up and having a relatively successful day, selling most of my inventory reasonably quickly. An older woman wanders up to my booth and puts on a big show of studying my items, with little tuts and other gestures that generally signal that she disapproves of everything. Finally, she turns to me.

Customer: “You know, I used to knit when I was younger. The items I made were much higher quality than these.”

Me: “Well, I’ve done okay selling everything so far, so… okay?”

Customer: “I can’t believe you’re trying to sell stuff for these prices. So high for such low quality.”

Me: “Then don’t buy anything. It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be okay without your business.”

Customer: “I might be persuaded to pay [far lower price] for some of these things, but they’re certainly not worth more than that.”

Me: “The price you see is the price you pay. I don’t haggle.”

Customer: “Hmm… Well, then, I suppose I’ll look somewhere else.”

Note that the flea market has no other sewn/knitted goods this weekend; I usually have one or two competitors, but they don’t seem to be here this time.

Me: “Feel free to do so, ma’am. Have a nice day!”

She wanders off, only to return to my booth about an hour later, clearly hoping that I won’t recognize her. Unfortunately for her…

Me: “Hello again, ma’am!”

Customer: *Immediately turning back into her grumbling self* “You’re in luck. Nobody else is selling this kind of stuff today, so I guess I’m stuck with you. I’ll give you [lower price] for [item]; we both know it’s not worth what you’re trying to charge.”

Me: “Nope, full price or leave.”

After more grumbling, she eventually paid the full price.

To all my fellow crafters out there, I know this doesn’t need to be said, but stick to your guns on pricing. We all know people are going to complain about prices, but you know what your stuff is worth. Don’t let anyone talk you down!

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Testicles

I am the bad customer in this story. My wife, a friend, and I were visiting the August 10th market (Mercado) in Cuenca Ecuador. Someone suggested that we try the yucca tortillas (which are more like what an American would call a pancake), made with yucca, cheese, and egg.

I ordered them with my extremely limited Spanish and then went to sit down while the server reheated them. This area of the Mercado was laid out like a food court, with stalls along the outside and tables along the inside.

The tortillas were very tasty. We finished them up, bused our dishes (which apparently is unusual), and wandered on down to see what else we could try.

About thirty seconds later, I felt somebody grabbing the sleeve of my jacket. I turned to see that it was our server, saying something to me in extremely rapid Spanish. I pretty much only caught “tortilla” and said that yes, we had the tortillas. Another torrent of Spanish ensued, and a customer sitting nearby said:

Customer: “You no pay.”

Fortunately, there were two Spanish phrases that I had learned specifically for situations like this.

Me: “Oh, lo siento. Yo soy idiota.” *Oh, I am sorry. I am an idiot.*

The grand total was less than three dollars, so I gave him three dollars and tried to tell him to keep the change, which just confused him. He chased after us again to give me my change.

I am doing a charity gig producing caricatures. A lady walks up, looks at my art, mumbles something, and then asks me:

Lady: “Do you do private commissions?”

Me: “Yes, I do.” 

Lady: “What do you need?”

Me: “All I need is a photo and some information about the person you want to be caricatured.”

Lady: “I have a photo of my husband in the car. I can go and get it if you like.”

Me: “That would be great.”

She heads off, and twenty minutes later, she comes back with a photo.

The photo is of a large lake with a tiny boat in the middle. And I mean tiny; you can barely make it out. After a while, I say:

Me: “So, where is your husband?”

Lady: “He’s in the boat.”

I look again. And there, measuring approximately 2.5 pixels in width and 3.7 in height, is — I presume — her husband. Fishing.

Me: “I think I’m going to need a slightly clearer photo.”

She takes it back and looks at it.

Lady: “Actually, you’ll probably want one of him facing you, too. He’s got his back to you in this one.”

I nodded slowly and she walked off.