As a kid, I found the prettiest black spider in my bedroom. Then, it scurried onto the curtain and I saw its cute little hourglass tummy.

I was well old enough to know what a black widow was, and certainly old enough to know better than to do what I did.

But I shooed it into a Solo cup, didn’t bother to put a sheet of paper on top, and carried it outside to our compost pile, which was in a nice spot that I knew spiders liked because there were always webs there.

Stepdad: “What do you have there?”

Me: “A black widow!”

He laughed and followed me outside to tell me what it “really” was, and the next thing I remember after dumping out the spider is how fast my stepdad snatched me away from the (very amicably wandering away) spider and how he told me do NOT do that again; I should come to get him and not mess with widow spiders.

I think I saw one more in the house months later, but I kind of got the idea that they don’t really like being inside. Or maybe my stepdad was ridding the house of them from then on. But he never messed with the wolf spiders. (In fairness, they’re very harmless, so there’s no reason to mess with ‘em.)

On August 23, 2011, a magnitude 5.8 earthquake hit the US state of Virginia, and the shocks were felt all the way through Boston, Ohio, and North Carolina. Since we don’t normally get earthquakes, it caused quite a stir!

I was working in a shoe store, and we were filled with customers when the store started rocking and rolling. Shoe racks swayed like cobras in a snake charmer’s show. Shoes started falling off the racks and our top stock. The light fixtures were swinging like crazy. According to a coworker in the break room, the water in the cooler was crashing against the sides like the ocean during a hurricane. 

My coworkers came bolting out onto the floor, and we immediately started moving everyone to the front of the store and then outside. Everyone was looking around, wide-eyed. Thankfully, none went into a screaming panic, and everyone was more than happy to take direction from an employee to move to safety — all except for a lone customer, who was still shopping. 

The shaking finished before everyone got outside, but I now had to deal with this.

Me: “Ma’am, you need to head outside for a little bit.”

Right on cue, a shoe box gave up on teetering on the edge and tumbled to the floor. A single sneaker bounced and hit my ankle like an excitable chihuahua.

Customer: “Well, my goodness! What was that noise?”

Me: “Ma’am, I believe it was an earthquake.”

The lights were still swinging like wrecking balls, and it would just be my luck to die by overhead light because some idiot wanted to discuss rather than move. I had an internal debate about telling her I’d see her when her survival instincts finally kicked in, but I figured the bosses would be mad about me leaving someone unattended in a store with cash registers.

Customer: “Oh. Well, can you ring me up? I want to buy these shoes.” 

Me: “Not right now. We need to move outside for a bit to make sure everything is safe.”

I managed to herd her out, much to her displeasure. 

Thankfully, everything was fine. We only stayed outside for about five minutes. The power never even went out, there was no structural damage and no smell of gas, and only a surprisingly minor mess of fallen stuff to clean up in the aftermath.

For the record, closer to the epicenter, some buildings collapsed entirely, as our building codes on the East Coast don’t account for earthquakes the way that California does.

Of course, that lone customer was huffing and puffing the entire time. She muttered under her breath about how ridiculous it was that she couldn’t just buy her things. We finally let everyone back in, and that one customer kept up a line of muttered complaints until she bought her shoes.

The other guests? They all just stared at this woman the entire time, with several directly asking her if she was stupid. She refused to acknowledge their questions and left, still keeping up a stream of griping.

Natural disasters were just an inconvenience, I guess.

We have a new manager who gladly does not suffer fools, both with his coworkers and especially with the customers. Since we’re a hardware store and sell power tools that can be pretty dangerous, we try to make sure some customers know what they’re purchasing.

We have this one customer who is that terrible combination of both rude and stupid. The first time my manager had to deal with him, he tried telling me about the experience.

Manager: “I think I just met the stupidest customer on the planet.”

Me: “Can you describe him?”

Manager: “Tried buying a circular saw. Looks like he knows which crayon tastes best.”

Yup, I knew exactly who he meant. This crazy customer has suffered multiple self-inflicted injuries due to his inability to follow instructions for the power tools, so now we have a moral obligation to ask what he’s buying it for whenever he comes back.

Customer: “Where are your chainsaws?”

Manager: “Dare I ask, what are you going to be using it for?”

Customer: “Why is that any of your business? You guys always give me a hard time! Y’all are lucky you’re the only hardware store around!”

Manager: “I just want to know what it’ll be used for so I can advise the best one for you.”

Customer: “I’m going all out on Halloween and I wanna be Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre! I bet ya didn’t expect that, did ya?!”

Manager: “No, sir, you continue to meet my expectations…”

He did not sell him the chainsaw.

I work in a grocery store that sells propane tanks. On the cage itself, in big letters, it advises customers to leave their tank either in their car or outside and DO NOT bring it into the store (because explosive). Unfortunately, our propane cage is on the far side of the outside and a bit out of the way, so a lot of people don’t actually SEE the sign until I help with the exchange. It leads to a lot of people dragging their highly explosive tanks inside the store with them.

Most people are understanding when I explain the rules and ask them to please take their tank outside, even just set it outside the door and come back to pay, but sometimes people get a bit difficult.

One night, I’m working, and a young man (late twenties if I had to guess) comes in to do an exchange, dragging his tank inside with him.

Me: “Oh, sorry, sir, but for safety reasons, we don’t allow the propane tanks inside. You could just leave it out the door for a moment, if you’d like?”

Apparently, this is the wrong thing to ask, because the man proceeds to glare at me.

Customer: “Now listen here, missy. I know all about tanks like this. They aren’t dangerous! That’s just propaganda! Now, oxygen tanks! Those’ll kill you dead. Worked with those for a while. Explode at the drop of a hat. But these bad boys?” *Smacks his tank* “Nah, they’re not dangerous.”

Me: “…well, regardless, our store has rules about them being inside. Can you please take it outside so we can finish the transaction?

The man sighs heavily and drags his tank outside. I just look at my manager in shock.

Me: “I don’t particularly care how much experience he has. Leave your explode-y tank outside, for f***s sake. I don’t care what’s in it!” 

Thankfully, there was no further incident. Though I did get treated to another lecture about how “not dangerous” propane tanks really were when I had to go out and do the exchange for him — in front of the big 5×4 sign on the cages indicating the various dangers.

A customer walks up to me wearing what looks like a hastily-home-made eye patch.

Customer: “Do you sell safety goggles?”

Me: “Uh… yes, sir. Let me show you.”

Customer: “Good! I could have used one of these this morning!”

I smile, not knowing if he’s joking or not.

Customer: “Also, do you sell nail guns?”

Me: “Yes. Would you also like some safety gloves?”

Customer: “What for?”

Related:
This Cannot End Well, Part 5
This Cannot End Well, Part 4
This Cannot End Well, Part 3
This Cannot End Well, Part 2
This Cannot End Well