I remember a custy I had a few years ago. She lived in an upstairs flat. the lady on the ground floor (a retired spinster librarian with the usual expected level of people skills) owned the garden. She had plants, bushes and pots all over the place. She stood and watched my every move to ensure I didn't touch any of them (an impossibility). She would draw loud sharp intakes of breath whenever I touched anything. Furthermore, where I needed to place the ladders were bumps and mounds, meaning I couldn't place the ladders level. It was a royal pain in the rear and I suffered a few months of this before I told my custy I couldn't do it any more.
I also recall, while cleaning the house next door some time after, I saw her trip over the pots. I was shaking with suppressed laughter, but not suppressed enough for her to fail to realize that I had clocked the whole thing!
John