My father’s shop closed for a week because my father died suddenly. As I was trying to open the front door to my fully empty, shutters-down shop, a lady impatiently huffed behind me and stared at me.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “No! I’m waiting to go in!”

Me: “Well, we won’t be open for another hour and a half yet, madam.”

She kicked off.

Customer: “WHY NOT?! IS MY DAUGHTER’S BANGLE BACK YET?! IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS!”

Me: “Madam, we’ve been shut, unfortunately, so it won’t be ready just yet.”

Customer: “WHY?! HOW DARE YOU SHUT?! YOU’RE STEALING MY BANGLE! WHY ARE YOU CLOSED?!”

I completely lost my cool in the middle of the street.

Me: “MY FATHER DIED FIVE DAYS AGO!”

The worst thing was that she just said:

Customer: “So?”

Customers are crazy.

I deliver pizzas. Once, during rush hour, I had four deliveries at once. It took me an hour to get to the last one. The guy is a massive jerk.

Customer: “I’m not paying because you’re late. If I wasn’t on good behavior right now, I’d mess you up.”

We blacklisted him.

Client: “So you got everything you need? Take all the time you want. We really believe we understand the mind of the creative individual. We know it takes time to create a powerful ad.”

Me: “Yeah. It does. Thanks.”

Client: “But it’s urgent. Just imagine that it should have been done as of yesterday.”

Me: “But no deadline?”

Client: “Right. Well, I mean, we need it for four days, but otherwise, yeah; no deadline.”

Daylight Saving Time always confuses my dad’s thirteen-year-old beagle, Baby. Baby gets up from her nap in the sun and goes to sit by her bowl. She lets out a very big, very dramatic yawn and stares at my dad.

Dad: “Not yet, Baby.”

Baby grumbles.

Dad: “Don’t you take that tone with me. It’s not time—”

Baby lets out a soft whine.

Dad: “Baby, it is not 5:30.” *Points at the clock on the wall* “It’s 4:30.”

Mom: “You didn’t change that clock, [Dad].”

Dad: “What?”

He looks at the clock and sees that it does say 5:30.

Dad: “Oh.”

Mom: “It’s 5:30 to her.”

Baby looks back and forth between Mom and Dad, her tail slowly picking up speed.

Dad: “Okay, Baby. Now look—”

Baby breaks into a full-body wiggle and starts howling. Dad tries to talk over Baby’s victory noises.

Dad: “Tomorrow, it will be 5:30 for real!”

He puts food down in front of her and she gobbles up every last piece before going back to her nap spot.

The next week, I am back again and 4:30 rolls around. Again, Baby wakes up from her nap and goes to her bowl. Dad sighs and gets up.

Me: “I thought you told her 5:30?”

Dad: *Sighs* “I did. She made some very loud arguments at 4:30 in the morning. I had to relent.”

Mom: “She’s a good girl. Let her eat when she wants.”

Baby gets to eat at 4:30 now, twice a day. My dad gets up early to feed her breakfast and then goes back to bed. Baby, of course, has no issues with this new plan.

Me: “If you want a custom Christmas e-mail template, it’ll take at least two billable hours.”

Client: “We don’t want to pay extra. Can’t you just add a snowy background?”

Me: “It’s a bit more complicated than that. I’m sorry, but I do have to charge by the hour.”

Client: “No. Why don’t you spend a couple of hours figuring out how we can do this for free.”

Me: “You want me to sit here for a “couple hours” to figure out a way you can get me to work for a couple of hours for free?”