(I have been a little depressed lately. My fiancée keeps cheering me up as much as she can. One night, she is in bed. I walk by.)
Fiancée: “You know, life is made of years, days, and hours. And hours are made of minutes and seconds. And in each second of my life with you, I’ll love you as much as there are gameplay hours in the whole Elder Scrolls games.”
(I almost cried that night.)
(I work for a very well-known clothing store that caters to plus sized women. The smallest size is 14W. A very skinny woman walks into the store.)
Me: “Hi, there! How can I help you today? Are you shopping for a gift?”
Customer: “No. I am shopping for myself today.”
Me: “Alright. Just so you know, we are a size 14+ store. We do have some nice accessories. May I help you find anything?”
Customer: “No. I just want to look around.”
(The customer wanders off. I start puttering around, cleaning some things, as we are slow. A few minutes later I notice her holding a top and wandering around looking a bit confused.)
Me: “Hey. Is there anything I can help you find?”
Customer: “Where are your smaller sizes?”
Me: “I’m sorry. As I mentioned earlier the smallest size we carry is 14 wide, or extra large.”
Customer: “But where are the SMALLER sizes?”
Me: “Again, I’m sorry. We do not carry small sizes.”
Customer: “Yes, yes. But where do you keep the smaller sizes?”
Me: “Miss, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to explain this to you. [Store] is plus-sized retail chain. We make clothes for women who look like me.”
(I gesture to my size 24 figure. All of a sudden a look of realization comes into the woman’s eyes. She looks around as if seeing the other employees, customers, and myself for the first time.)
Customer: “Wait. This is a store for FATTIES?”
(The customer drops the shirt she’d been holding as if it’s going to burn her and storms out. I just stand there, totally stunned. A few customers shoot the skinny woman dirty looks.)
(Shortly after moving in with my boyfriend, I experienced a severe illness. I was basically bedridden, getting up only to vomit. After that, he gets extremely concerned when I have even the slightest bit of an upset stomach. I inform him that I feel a little queasy. After I take an anti-nausea pill, he hugs me, looking worried.)
Boyfriend: “Are you gonna be okay?”
Me: “Yeah, I’m just a little ‘urpy.’”
Boyfriend: “Why?”
Me: “Probably because I ate all that chocolate.”
Boyfriend: “Why?”
Me: “Because it was GOOD.”
Boyfriend: “Why?”
Me: “Because it was DARK chocolate!”
Boyfriend: “Why?”
Me: “Don’t make me slap you.”
Boyfriend: “Why?”
Me: “Well, if you want me to, I will!”
Boyfriend: “Why?”
(I lightly pat his cheek.)
Boyfriend: *clutching his face and reeling dramatically* “Whyyy!?”
(It is about 11 pm in a grocery store. I am the supervisor on duty. It is just me, cleaning the customer service counter, and one cashier working a register. An elderly customer ambles up to the checkout lane.)
Cashier: “Hey, ma’am. How are you tonight?”
Customer: “Oh, I’m just- AHHHHHHHH!” *waves her arms dramatically and hops backwards.* “Oh, my gosh, honey. There’s a HUGE puddle of water there! Oh, I slipped. I think I hurt something! Oh, my hip!”
Cashier: “Really? Are you okay?”
Customer: “Oww, my hip! Oh, I think I strained something! Get me your manager right now!”
(The cashier pages the manager to the register.)
Manager: “Oh, my goodness, ma’am. What happened?!”
Customer: “There was a huge puddle of water! I slipped and I hurt my back! Oh, gosh. It hurts!”
Manager: *to cashier, who is wiping the floor with paper towels that are remaining suspiciously dry* “Ring up her groceries for me, please.” *to the customer* “Here, ma’am. Have a seat. Please, tell me exactly what happened.”
Customer: “Oh, there was all this water, and I slipped like this.”
(The customer makes exaggerated lunges, trying to demonstrate how she fell.)
Customer: “Oh, it was awful. My hip hurts! Oh, I threw out my back! Oh, it hurts!”
(The customer makes more movements an injured person would be quite incapable of making.)
Customer: “I’ll be contacting my lawyer!”
Manager: “I see. Here’s my store and my personal information. Please give me yours as well, and we’ll be in touch. I’m terribly sorry about this. I hope you make it home alright.”
(The customer ambles out to her car, shouting ‘oh, my back!’ the entire way.)
Manager: “I need written statements from both of you. Good thing we have this on camera.”
Cashier: “Do you think she’ll sue?”
Manager: “I hope so. I’m putting her a** in jail if she does.”
(My boyfriend and I have been dating for a couple of weeks. He is really into Star Wars, and I love Harry Potter. We are texting sweet/nerdy things to each other.)
Boyfriend: “Lame joke alert: Well, you do have me under your spell.”
Me: “Good. We witches can certainly enchant mere Muggles.”
Boyfriend: “I really need to find the Jedi Academy.”
Me: “Oh?”
Boyfriend: “Yeah, a Jedi and a witch together? Would be awesome!”
Me: “OH, MY GOD! YES!”
