(My father runs a dog grooming shop, and I have been helping him out there since I was about 10 during times when I’m not in school. During the time of this exchange, I was maybe 14 and working the counter when an older man, maybe in his 50s or 60s, came to pick up his dog.)

Man: “I’m here to pick up Maggie.”

Me: “All right, that’ll be $42 today.”

Man: *smiles* “So, is your hair dyed, or are you a natural redhead?”

(I had recently bleached my hair from black in an attempt to get it light enough to dye bright red. It was a bright orange color from the bleach, and very obviously not a natural color. On top of that, my eyebrows are dark brown, revealing my natural color.)

Me: “Um, I bleached it from black, and it just kind of turned this color. It wasn’t on purpose.”

Man: “Oh, I see. Yeah, my ex-wife was a redhead. Feisty little thing, she was.”

Me: “Oh, that’s nice.” *awkward smile*

Man: “But, yeah, I’m just bringing Maggie by to be groomed while I’m waiting for my wife to get out of physical therapy. She can’t move around very well.”

Me: “All right. Well, if you’d like to hand over your leash and collar, I’ll go get Maggie for you.”

(I go to get the dog and he leaves with her, only to forget his wallet on the counter. Still not sure if he did that on purpose or not, really. I of course have to call him and let him know that we have it, so he immediately returns.)

Me: “Here’s your wallet, sir.”

Man: “Thanks. Haha, you didn’t use my card to buy a new car, did you?”

(Considering the subtle yet creepy lines he’d dropped, I wasn’t sure if he had realized how young I was. I decided to drop a hint.)

Me: “Oh, no, haha. I’m nowhere near old enough to drive.”

(He started to look a bit surprised and just left with a simple thank you. I haven’t seen him since.)

(We are a grooming shop inside a larger pet store. One of our bathers brings out a dog that is going home. Since she worked on the dog, she proceeds to inform the owner how it went.)

Bather: “[Pet] did pretty good for a first timer, but got a bit scared and tried to nip—”

Customer: “BAD DOG!”

(She then starts screaming and leans over our counter to take a swing at her dog with a closed fist. The dog ducks and hides behind the bather.)

Me: “Ma’am! Please don’t hit your dog in here!”

(She scowls at us and still looks angry, but we have no choice but to hand the dog over. A few minutes later one of the floor associates rushes in.)

Associate: “The lady that just left just started kicking the s*** out of her dog and is now trying to stuff it in the trunk!”

Me: “WHAT?!”

(The bather calls the cops while I and the associate rush outside. We can’t see the dog in the car but the owner is in the driver’s seat, on her phone and screaming at us, as we box her in her parking space to keep her from leaving until the police arrive.)

Police Officer: “I can take it from here. All of you get back inside.”

(We never saw the woman again, but I still think of that poor dog.)

(I have left work early to pick up my dog from the groomer before they close at 5 pm. I arrive at 4:50 pm, to find the place dark and locked. Frantic, I start to knock.)

Me: “Hello? Hello!”

(An employee walks up from down the sidewalk.)

Employee: “We’re closed.”

Me: “I’m here to pick up my dog.”

Employee: “All the dogs have been picked up already.”

Me: “What? I left my Sheltie here this morning, and I said I’d be here right before 5 pm to pick her up! She has to be here!”

Employee: “No, there are no dogs left here. Maybe someone else picked her up?”

Me: “No, my husband works too far away to get here in time. Nobody else would pick her up! Can you please look and see?”

Employee: *sigh* “Fine, but I’m telling you, there are no more dogs here.”

(The employee unlocks the salon, and goes into the back. After several minutes, she emerges carrying our dog.)

Employee: “She was in one of the cages in back. I had no idea she was there!”

(We never go back to that salon again!)

(It is standard grooming salon policy to make sure the customer is completely satisfied with their dog’s haircut before they leave. If not, we will fix what we can. I am returning a dog to its owner.)

Me: “Here he is, ma’am! Are you happy with the haircut?”

Customer: *examining dog* “Hmm… well… he looks okay except for the hair above his eyes is still a little too long.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry about that. Would you like me to trim it a bit more? It’ll only take a minute.”

Customer: “No!”

Me: “Okay then, if you’re sure, that will be [price].”

Customer: “But that’s full price! You can’t charge me full price, because the hair above his eyes is too long!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I offered to trim it for you. I can still do that; it’ll just take a minute.”

Customer: “No!”

Me: “Well then, it’ll be the same price I just told you.”

Customer: “But that isn’t fair! The hair above his eyes is still too long! I want a discount!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve offered to fix the hair above his eyes for you, but you’ve refused. I cannot give you a discount for something that I am willing and able to fix right here and now.”

Customer: “Well, did I say too long? I meant it was too short! It’s too short! You can’t fix that now, can you!? I want a discount!”

(She proceeded to throw a tantrum for the next ten minutes and only paid up and left when I threatened to call the police on her. Needless to say, she and her dog are no longer welcome back.)

(I have worked as a bather at a pet salon for almost four years now. Our new assistant manager has taken over scheduling and has completely changed the way we request days off. One week, I absolutely need a certain day off because I’m going to a funeral. Lo and behold, when I get my schedule, I have the funeral day on. So I go to the assistant manager.)

Me: “Hey Jen, can I ask you something?”

Assistant Manager: “Yeah, what’s up?”

Me: “Well, I really needed Friday off, but you put me on the schedule anyway.”

Assistant Manager: “Yeah, I can’t give you that day off. You didn’t give a valid reason.”

Me: “My uncle’s funeral isn’t a valid reason?”

Assistant Manager: “If it was like, your mom or something, I could give you, like, the whole week off. But, like, not for some random family member who you probably don’t even know.”

Me: “I can work any other day but Friday. I’m sorry, but I just can’t work that day.”

Assistant Manager: “Whatever. Don’t show up. I don’t care. I’d like to see your a** fired! Just like, leave!”

(I’m fed up with her attitude, so I go off to the owner’s office.)

Me: “Hey Dave?”

Owner: “Yeah?”

Me: “I was supposed to have Friday off for my uncle’s funeral, but Jen put me on the schedule anyway. She said it wasn’t a valid reason.”

Owner: *sighs* “You’re only the eight millionth person to complain about Jen’s scheduling. I’ll have a word with her, but go ahead and take Friday off. H***, if you need any more days off this week, go ahead and take ’em. I’ll make HER cover your shift.”

(I got my Friday off, and Jen was livid when she found out that she would have to take my shift. She screwed up the schedule a few more times after that. Needless to say, she’s not allowed to do scheduling anymore!)