Yup, while on vacation around 1967, at a gift shop for a cave, when I was around 10. Picked up a snowglobe to look at it (I love those things!), set it down and it JUMPED OFF THE SHELF, I SWEAR! My mom had to pay for it. Cripes.
When on a trip to Disneyworld with Cheez_Whia , I wandered off by myself and was in the shop where they blow glass. I was looking at necklaces and clumsily dropped it. I looked around: I hadn’t been seen! Nonetheless, I am an exceedingly honest individual (well, usually) and brought it to the counter sheepishly and explained I’d pay for the damage.
I offered to; they wouldn’t let me. I felt really bad about it, it was entirely my own clumsiness (and the fact that I didn’t see it was in two parts, oops).
Yep. So embarrassing! I was in an antique shop, one of those places with so much stuff in it there are little narrow trials and paths with things piled so high on either side you feel like Hansel and Gretel in heart of the Black Forest, you know the kind? You can’t even turn around with your purse on your shoulder or you will topple something. Well, I was looking at a brass candle holder, the wall sconce kind as I clutched my purse to my chest out of fear it was going knock something over. It was hung on the wall by a rickety nail, but I admit I shoulda known better. I touched it, it wobbled, and the glass part fell off and shattered on the stone floor. The shop lady was ultra-snotty to me, and I was so flustered and full anxiety that I said the stupidest thing, “So you want me to pay for it?” Of course I intended to pay for it, but the lady had my stomach all in knots, especially when she practically hissed at me with a curled upper lip, “Yesssssss”. Thankfully, the glass part of this particulaur one wasn’t the expensive part, it was just a cheap reproduction, so it only put me out 8 bucks, but still…
When I was a kid my family had a cottage in nothern Michigan. We were in a drugstore that had gifty sort of items. There was a ceramic cat on the shelf. It fell off and I was blamed. To this day I swear I was in the next aisle over, but my parents paid for it. I had to go the entire summer vacation foregoing ice cream cones to compensate them. It was so hard to see my 4 siblings walk to the ice cream shop and not having any.
I forget how old I was… less than 10, maybe 7 or so… my family was in some kind of home-improvement store and my brother and I, horsing around, managed to knock over and shatter a $300 green pedestal sink that was on display. My parents were PISSED. They paid for it, and we didn’t get allowances for like a year.
A bottle of foundation jumped off the shelf at a drug store when I was a teenager (it was one of those spring-loaded shelving thingies that bring the next bottle to the front of the display.
I was horrified and took out my wallet. The manager said they in no way expected me to pay: insurance covers breakage, and any reputable business accounts for this.
I thought I heard somewhere that such signs were unenforceable. Something about vendors being required to carry insurance for such purposes. I know I dropped an expensive (ok cheap) bottle of Brandy right after paying for it and the clerk simply handed me another and didn’t ask for a dime.
It never happened to me in a store, but I recall back in middle school when a classmate gave me this gorgeous heart-shaped musical snowglobe for Christmas…and I immediately dropped and broke it. :smack: Fortunately, although the dome was destroyed, the base and interior sculpture were still intact, and I kept it on my dresser for several years. I think I still have it in storage someplace.
I remember in HS I worked in a grocery store. I wish we had a “you break it, you buy it” policy. I remember one time a dumbwitted customer knocked roughly 10 glass jars of spaghetti sauce onto the ground. The store manager’s response, “Clean up on aisle 9.”
It just made me think, “There has to be a point where the store says enough is enough.”
I once dropped a bottle of Brut cologne. I offered to pay for it, and also for another bottle of the same (I needed to buy some anyway). The store manager let me off.
I used to be a stocker in a grocery store. One time, we got the bi-weekly shipment in and, as I was unloading stuff in the back room, I figured out the hard way that someone had neglected to note that the bottom of the case of molasses wasn’t glued shut :smack:
Six broken bottles and about two hours of mopping later, I had most of it cleaned up. It was like a freakin’ oil spill.
OMG, traumatic childhood memory. In first grade[sup]*[/sup], as a class project, we made gingerbread cookies. Every child brought one of the ingredients from home. It was my job to bring the molasses.
My mother feels incredibly guilty about this. “What was I thinking,” she says, “Sending a first-grader to school with a glass jar of molasses?” I think that I should have been more careful, even as a six year old.
It ruined my favorite bookbag and of course the class project had to be delayed.
Okay, so that’s far afield of the OP . . .
[sup]*[/sup] For those of you taking notes on the Saga of Podkayne’s Life, yes, my first grade teacher was the horrendously mean woman for who I could do no right, who told me I was stupid and insisted that I be tested for learning disabilities because in her professional opinion I was almost certainly retarded.