The Fumes Make Them Fuming

The store I manage had the floors rewaxed overnight. Typical janitorial work; there’s a mild curing smell for a few hours.

A woman walks in the next morning and tells one of my staff:

Customer: “You have a gas leak! I would know. I used to be an OSHA inspector.”

My employee does not get paid enough for that crap, so she calls me. I go to talk to the woman.

Me: “Ma’am, we don’t, and never have, had gas lines to this building.”

Customer: “How do you know that?”

Me: “I did the final walkthrough of the building with the contractor ten years ago. At the end, he handed me the original roll of blueprints and utilities specs. They’re strapped to the wall in the office in case we ever need them. Also, the smell is curing wax. It’ll clear as the HVAC cycles.”

She gives me the most infuriating ‘bless your heart’ look.

Customer: “I’m going to call the fire department. For your own good.”

She calls and reports a gas leak, so they’ll respond. She even winks at me while doing it. Before I can even get a word out, she leaves and vanishes. 

Minutes later, two fire trucks and four hazmat-suited firefighters show up, looking for the emergency. When I explain to them what happened, they’re furious.

Chief Firefighter: “If we contact the police, would you be able to give them footage of the woman?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

Chief Firefighter: “Good. She’s about to take responsibility for this massive waste of taxpayer dollars…”