(I teach college computer courses part time. I am introducing my students, who are 18-60 or so, to Windows and a GUI for the first time.)

Me: “Okay, everyone use your mouse to point at the icon and double-click on it. Once in the program, go ahead with the exercise.”

(A student raises a hand.)

Me: “Something not working?”

Student: “The mouse doesn’t seem to work. I point at the icon and double-click and nothing happens.”

Me: “That’s strange. Try it right now and let’s see what happens.”

(The student grabs the mouse, picks it up off the desk and points it at the icon like a gun and double clicks.)

Student: “See? Isn’t that little arrow supposed to follow too? Anyway, it’s broken, doesn’t work.”

Me: “Ah, well, see you actually use the mouse here on the mouse-pad like this.” *I demonstrate*

Student: “Oh my, I get it now!” *grabs the mouse and successfully launches the program*

(A few minutes go by as the students are working on the exercise, the same student raises a hand.)

Me: “Getting along with the exercise okay?”

Student: “I was, but now I need a bigger mouse pad.”

Me: “Why would that be?”

Student: “Well look at it. I have the mouse all the way to the right side of the mouse-pad, but I need to make the arrow go even further to the right on the screen. I need a bigger mouse-pad.”

Me: “Well, you can pick the mouse up–”

Student: “You told me not to do that.”

Me: “Right, but in this case–”

Student: “You’re confusing me.”

Me: “Let me see if we have a bigger mouse-pad…”

(I come in on my day off to get my paycheck. My boss asks me to help with a table of two people who are speaking mostly French before I go. When I am done another customer calls me over.)

Customer: “Excuse me, don’t you work here?”

Me: “Yes, sir, I do. It’s just my day off today. Would you like me to get your server?”

Customer: “What were you just talking in? It was some kind of foreign talk. At that other table there?”

Me: “Oh, I speak a little bit of French, so I was helping the server.”

Customer: “You can do that?”

Me: “Do what, sir?”

Customer: “You can speak French in here? Isn’t that illegal?!”

Me: “To speak French?”

Customer: “Yeah! I mean, this is a Mexican restaurant. You could get shot for speaking in French! Or even just thinking about talking in French!”

Me: “Well–”

Customer: “Shot!”

Me: “I don’t think–”

Customer: “Shot!”

Me: “Sir–”

Customer: “SHOT I SAID!”

Boss: “It’s okay. She was thinking about the words in Spanish.”

Customer: “Oh good.” *whispers to me* “Don’t ever try to talk in British in here. It won’t end well.”

(My boss made a gun out of paperclips and attached them to all of my paychecks after that.)

(I’m putting a bridal set on a mannequin. The bottom has a train on it and a little girl is pulling on it.)

Me: “Please don’t pull on that.”

Mother: “Oh, she’s fine.”

Me: “If she rips it, you have to pay for it.”

Mother: *bellowing at daughter* “DON’T TOUCH THAT!”

Related:
Ah, Mothers, Part 6
Ah, Mothers, Part 5
Ah, Mothers, Part 4
Ah, Mothers, Part 3
Ah, Mothers, Part 2
Ah, Mothers

(It’s early morning. I need to organise my notes, so I sit down in the Reception area. The suited guy next to me is looking very nervous.)

Customer: “You’re a bit of a porker, eh?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You’re really chubby. I mean, they told me they were considering someone else for the position as well. But if you’re all I’ve got to compete with, I’ve got it already!”

(I realise that his pre-interview technique is from some old self-help book about psyching out the competition.)

Customer: “And I was so nervous too! Guess you don’t have much of a chance, huh?”

(I consult my notes.)

Me: “Mr. Becker?”

Customer: “Yeah, that’s me! How’d you know that? You’re here for the job too, right?”

Me: “No, Mr. Becker. I’m Gary Robbins, a technical specialist from Human Resources. I’m here to conduct your interview.”

(An employee calls me over to deal with someone who is angry that they can’t take their restaurant leftovers into the theater.)

Customer: “Why can’t I bring this in? I’m not going to eat it or anything!”

Me: “I’m sure you wouldn’t, but unfortunately it is a rule here that you can’t bring it in, and I can’t circumvent it.”

Customer: “What the h*** does geometry have to do with my food?!”

Customer: “I bought tickets for Wicked on Broadway and I want a refund.”

Me: “Okay, was your show postponed or canceled? That’s the only time we can give refunds.”

Customer: “Well, I wasn’t able to watch the show so I want my money back.”

Me: “Why were you unable to watch the show?”

Customer: “When we got to our seats my husband felt sick from being so high up and we had to leave.”

Me: “When you purchased the tickets were you aware that they were in the balcony?”

Customer: “The woman told me they were in the balcony but I didn’t know what that meant. I know what a balcony on a house is, but a theater isn’t a house. I’m not stupid.”

Me: “If you weren’t sure about the seat placement, why didn’t you ask for clarification?”

Customer: “I didn’t want to sound stupid. I’m not stupid!”

(I am guy in my late teens, bagging groceries for a male cashier when a woman in her mid to late thirties arrives at the till.)

Cashier: “Here you go, ma’am.”

Customer: “‘Ma’am?!’ Do I look old enough to be a ‘ma’am?!’”

Cashier: “Uh, sorry miss.”

Customer: “‘Miss!’ That’s even worse! You make me feel like an old maid! I’m still young and beautiful! And you, bag boy! Make sure the eggs are on top, okay?”

Me: *miming shooting a gun and winking* “You got it, babe.”

Customer: *blushing* “I…uh…okay.”

Cashier: “Dude.”

(Two girls enter the bookstore. I recognize them as being two ditzy girls from my English class.)

Me: “Hey, [Girl 1] and [Girl 2], what’s up? I didn’t think you guys liked hanging out in bookshops?”

Girl 1: *giggles* “Duh! Did you like think that we’re geeks or something?”

Girl 2: “Like, duh, I’m just looking for this book for my sister.”

(Said sister happens to be one of my good friends.)

Me: “Oh, what book does Jen want?”

Girl 2: “It’s like, this book with some totally geeky wizards or something.”

Me: “Do you mean Harry Potter? She’s already got those books.”

Girl 2: “Like, no duh! It’s like, written by some totally old-ish chick named Jane or something. It’s like, about this chick named Emma.”

Me: “Emma by Jane Austen hasn’t got any wizards.”

Girl 2: “Ain’t Emma that witch or something? That nerdy, bushy-haired one?”

Me: “That’s Hermione Granger. Her actress is Emma Watson.”

Girl 2: *huffing* “What-EVER! I’m like, so totally out of here, you geek!”