My last job before I retired was working in-store sales at a lumber yard slash hardware.
A customer brought in a used gallon can of paint and wanted to know if I'd shake it up for him. Being a slow day, and he being a good customer, I complied.
Should've inspected the can first. Bottom was rusty, can disintegrated. About the only difference is that the cabinet contained the explosion. I was still a couple of hours cleaning it up...
My first full time job (at 14) was at a mom & pop hardware store.
We had a regular customer that all the guys fought over as to who would wait on her.
Divorced, killer bod; makeup, hair, clothes, and jewelry all perfect every time she came in.
Stunning & sexy.
One guy was mixing a gallon of toothpaste mint green paint for her, paying more attention to her than his job.
He didn't get the lid tight, and the mixer clamped on the sides of the can, which he got over tight.
It blew when she was standing next to it, looking at color samples.
She was completely covered from the top of her head to her high heel shoes.
It looked like something from the three stooges.
As she stood there stunned, this guy ran over and started to vigorously wipe the paint off a certain protruding area of her anatomy, which earned him a nice right cross.
The owner's wife took her to the restroom, cleaned her up, and gave her some coveralls to wear home.
I remember the boss screaming about the emergency room bill, the beauty salon bill, the hairdresser bill, and the clothing store bill, and the shoe store bill.
And, being the cheapskate he was, the wasted gallon of paint.
She never came back, and the guy got fired.