(My friend run a small business and, on occasion, they have special events that include renting out market stalls. They take bookings ahead of time, but on this occasion, one of their regulars hasn’t arrived so there is an empty table. The rent they receive goes to a charity. I am helping them out in their main shop when one of their staff members comes over.)

Staff: “Hey, [Owner], I thought the table next to my shop was for [Regular Stall Holder]?”

Owner: “It is; she’s not arrived yet.”

Staff: “Well, some woman has just sat down at it and started putting out items, and has been asking people to buy them.”

Owner: “I’ll come over and take a look; maybe [Regular] asked her to start setting up.”

Staff: “There’s nothing there that she would normally sell.”

(A few minutes later the owner comes back, he is fuming.)

Owner: “What is wrong with people? This woman saw an empty table and decided to set her own stall up. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me she wanted to sell her things. I told her that she needed to pay rent for the stall. She refused to do that because ‘it’s a charity event and the tables should be free.’ So, I asked how much of her takings she would be donating, and she told me that she isn’t going to donate anything because she is selling her own things.”

(Stall holders were also donating a percentage of their sales towards the charity. They ended up kicking her out and sitting one of their volunteers at the table with their own stock.)

(On social media, a friend puts up a photo of a large crocheted blanket and asks if someone would be able to make it for her.)

Me: *against my better judgement* “I could do it for you.”

(I buy the pattern online and then start looking for yarn for it. She doesn’t specify a color; I have free reign. I find the perfect yarn locally, and quite cheap, too. I let her know what sort of price we are looking at, but after starting the item I realize it’s going to take much less yarn than I thought, so I drop the price, and I don’t charge for my time. It takes weeks to make; my arm aches constantly. She loves it and posts a picture online to show it off. Not long after, I get a message from her.)

Friend: “One of my friends saw my blanket and wants to know if you can make another one.”

(I think, “Oh, here we go again,” but then think that I could use up the yarn I had left over, and I already had the pattern.)

Me: *to her* “I don’t know whether I could do one so soon; I need to rest my arm for a while first.”

Friend: “Okay, he doesn’t want it exactly like mine, he wants the exact [specific colors for a football team] and for you to do a [completely different design]. I told him what you charged me, but said that you knocked the price down from [price], and he’s happy paying that.”

Me: “I’m going to have to say no, sorry.”

(There is the reason I rarely make things for other people; they always have friends who want the exact same thing, but different.)

(We’re a store that supplies medieval needs for re-enactors, film, and theater. The phone rings and I pick it up.)

Me: “[Store], this is [My Name]. What can we do for you today?”

Customer: “Hi! We’re doing a film. I need a pair of helmets and armour with a whitish look, like from The Hunger Games. How much is that?”

Me: “That’s not an off-the-shelf product. We’d have to make those.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “I guess because none of the larger manufacturers have bothered to get a license, or because it’s a design the costume designer didn’t want to sell rights to.”

Customer: “Can you make them?”

Me: “Yeah, we do custom work. I’ve read the books, but never saw the movies, so I’d need you to send through some pictures. I also need your measurements fo—”

Customer: “I’m a large.”

Me: “A large in what size system?”

Customer: “My size.”

(I’m already face-palming at this point, but I press on. A lot of the theater and film people are difficult to deal with, but pay well.)

Me: “And these are both for you?”

Customer: “What? No. They’re for the actors.”

Me: “Right. I’ll need them to come in for a fitting, then. I can get your deposit at the same time, too.”

Customer: “I’m not paying for it unless it’s right.”

Me: “Considering I have to go and buy specific leather for this, you ARE paying for at least that much up fro—”

Customer: “No, I w—”

Me: “YES! You will. If you want our service, that part is non-negotiable! “

Customer: “Hey, man, I’m trying to do you a favour here. People will see your work in my movie.”

(My eyes are rolling hard enough to make them ache at this point.)

Me: “I appreciate that, mate, but I’ve got plenty of my work in movies, which is why I can afford to be the one to set the terms. Now, I’ll need you to come in with the actors so I can take some measurements, then call [Tannery] and get them to deliver.”

Customer: “Fine! I have to say, you’re being really unprofessional here. How long is it all going to take?”

Me: “If you’re willing to pay extra, they can do next day delivery, and if I work over the weekend, I can have it ready for you on Tuesday.”

Customer: “There’s not enough time for that. Why can’t you just make it? I thought you were meant to be a professional.”

Me: “Because I have to go and buy materials, cut, dye, and… wait. Not enough time. When do you need this by?”

Customer: “Oh, the shoot’s on Friday, in two days.”

(I stop into a large-chain barbecue chicken place one night to get a lazy dinner. It isn’t long before closing, and the staff are obviously loosening up, anticipating the end of the shift, and the chatter from the kitchen staff is a little more… “colourful” than I would have expected.)

Server: “Here’s your food. Have a great night.”

Me: “Thanks.” *I turn to go, pause, then turn back.* “Just for future reference, you might want to mention to your coworkers that they probably shouldn’t use the phrase ‘f****** c***’ loudly enough for customers to hear.”

(We’re a small 60 seat cafe with extremely high turnover; from eight am until midday we can seat and serve 300 guests.)

Customer: “Hi, I’ve got a booking for [Name].”

Me: “Right, your party of 17 is right over here.”

Customer: “Oh, what about the kids?”

Me: “Kids?”

Customer: “Yes, we booked for 17 adults, but we’ve got our kids. You’re going to need to find some seats.”

Me: “How many?”

Customer: “There will be 42 of us.”

Me: “Dude, that’s half the restaurant. We have bookings all day; if there are 42 of you, we can’t accommodate you.”

Customer: “That’s okay, the kids can just play and sit on their parents laps.”

Me: “Sure, fine, your table is right here.”

(This party trashes the cafe; the bathroom looks like a rugby team has been practicing in there. There is food from one end of the place to the other. The kids have drawn on the walls behind their parents’ table. Disaster. We lose 200 customers on this day, and we’re looking at a five-figure black hole of turnover, plus the repair bill. The worst part happens after they’ve finished.)

Customer: “Okay, so I had two poached eggs, toast, bacon, and two flat whites. Can you split that out of the bill please?”

(At this stage the bill is in four-digit territory, and I want these people out.)

Me: “Sorry, sir, we don’t split bills; here’s a calculator and a copy of your receipt.”

(The bill is 1.5 meters long.)

Customer: “Oh, no, we’re all going to pay separately. Otherwise, we’ll just leave; this is terrible service.”

Me: “You’re welcome to leave, sir. I’ll call the police now, and have them come down and arrest your party for theft of service, and vandalism for what your kids have done to my venue.”

Customer: “Maybe we’ll just pay.”

Me: “Thank you, sir.”

(It took this mob another 20 minutes of yelling and fighting with each other to sort out the bill. They tried to give it to me four times; each time it was short and got sent back. No tip. No apology.)