A customer walks into our small locksmith shop in a pretty rural area.

Customer: “I need to get my car key copied. It’s a Lexus.”

Me: “That will be [price].”

She accepts the price and leaves with her key. The next morning, she calls me.

Customer: “I could have gotten the key $20 cheaper if I went to [Locksmith In The City]!”

Me: “Maybe, but that’s over two hour’s drive away.”

Customer: “That doesn’t matter! I’ll be coming by later for my $20.”

Me: “You will not be getting $20 back.”

Customer: “That’s not fair!”

Me: “Isn’t saving you the five-hour round trip worth $20?”

Customer: “I’ll tell everyone I know not to use your store! This is not the way to run a business!” 

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Enjoy the long drive in that nice Lexus!”

My parents own farmland and rent it out to farmers. We went to a seminar for farm owners, so there were lots of very wealthy people in the mix. They served us lunch at the hotel restaurant, and it was very good food.

This hotel is part of a huge international chain, so it was their own catering service.

At the end of the meal, one of the women at our table flagged down a waiter.

Woman: “Can I get a box to take the rest of my food home in?”

Waitstaff: “We don’t have boxes or allow anyone to take the leftovers home.”

Woman: “That’s terrible! You just lost your tip!”

Waitstaff: “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Woman: “That’s it?! You’re not going to do anything for me?”

Waitstaff: “I can get my manager for you.”

They got the manager, who came out and told her the same thing: she couldn’t take home the food. Cue her screaming at the manager.

Manager: “Ma’am! There are still a full six hours left of lectures for your event. We cannot ensure the quality of your food being left out or in a box that long. We would be liable for any food safety issues.”

Woman: “I can’t even take this food home to my dog?!”

Manager: *Knowing what kind of seminar this is* “You can afford a farm, but you can’t afford dog food?”

Woman: “I will ruin you! You don’t know who you’re messing with!”

My dad looked at me and explained quietly.

Dad: “I know who she is; she only lives like twenty minutes from us. She has a net worth of at least ten million, I’d say.”

Me: “And she’s whining about not being able to take home a few bites of leftover pot roast?” 

I don’t doubt that she has some influence with as rich as she is, but as far as I know, she has yet to take down the Hilton!

I had a neighbor share with me her concern over her daughter’s wages and making ends meet with the pay and four children.

Neighbor: “She only makes about $80,000 a year!”

To keep the friendship, I refrained from saying that a family of four or five has to live on $20,000 and even less a year.

When I worked in a restaurant, we sadly had this customer who would complain about the prices from start to finish. The drink was too much. The steak was too much. She could hardly order dessert with our “exorbitant prices”.

Customer: “Can’t you give me some kind of discount?”

Me: “The only discount I can do is the one which I have already applied.”

I brought her bill and walked away before this middle-aged woman realized I’d given her a senior citizen discount. I saw her notice from a distance and saw her brain freeze from the feedback loop of accepting the discount or complaining about it and losing it.

She kept the discount.

I’ve worked for the same restaurant chain since I was legally allowed to work at sixteen. At first, it was just a part-time job to make money while in high school. At eighteen, I ended up transferring to a location a few hours away where I was going to college and being promoted to supervisor.

After a semester, I ended up dropping out of school due to the effects it was having on my mental health. I’ve never been very motivated by money; I just want to pay my bills and have a simple life with good friends and family nearby. So, I decided to stick with this company and continue to work my way up until I could manage my own location.

Ever since I dropped out of college, though, my dad took every opportunity to try and persuade me to do “something more serious” with my life. He’s always been very motivated by money, so it’s hard for him to understand why I don’t feel the same way. I could understand that to some extent, but after two years of every single conversation with my dad ending in an argument over my career choice, it heavily impacted our relationship. It’s very demeaning being constantly reminded that you’re “wasting your life” or “not being responsible” even though I was in my own apartment with my own car at just eighteen years old. We didn’t have a healthy relationship to begin with, so this added disagreement just made me even more resentful.

So, one day, I finally had the opportunity to move out of state where a lot of my extended family lived, along with being promoted to assistant manager at this new location. When I told my dad this, he BEGGED me to look for another job. He said he was embarrassed by my profession and wished he could post about my accomplishments like he could with my siblings.

He ended up offering me $2,000 if I found a job that would pay me $14 an hour or more. Generous, yes, but I’d rather have a dad who supports me or at least doesn’t belittle me, you know?

I texted the manager I had been in contact with about my transfer to ask if we could discuss my pay. I convinced her to increase the offer from $13.75 to $14.25.

I told my dad I had gotten an offer for more than $14 and asked for the $2,000 as it was time for me to put down my deposit and first month’s rent for my new apartment. He said he would pay me eventually, but technically, he had never clarified when he had to pay me. He had PLENTY of money but was always stingy with it.

I told him I’d just ask my grandma for a loan since he wasn’t following through, and I’d use his money to pay her back “eventually”. I had no plans to actually ask her for money; I could pay it on my own. Of course, my dad didn’t want our family to know he was being an a**, so he sent me the money.

Afterward, he asked me about my new job.

Me: “I’m not getting a new job; I’m just getting a raise.”

I could hear the steam coming out of his ears over the phone. He started yelling and demanding I send back the money.

Me: “Well, you’re right; you never clarified when you’d have to pay up. But you also never clarified that the wage I needed had to come from a different job.”

I hung up and kept the money. We didn’t talk for a while. That was eight years ago, and we still hardly talk now.