(My fiancé is currently giving catnip to my 14-year-old cat, who has tried to smother him on numerous occasions.)
Fiancé: *mimicking my cat* “Good human, as long as you give me the drugs, I’ll stop trying to kill you in your sleep.”
Me: “So, pretty much like every drug dealer relationship?”
(My fiancé and I attend college in Florida. I’ve spent most of the past three years outside, and have tanned despite frequent applications of sunscreen. We’re driving to see my parents for their 35th anniversary, and stop to get food.)
Cashier: “We don’t serve immigrants here!”
(My fiancé is from Scotland, but hasn’t said anything. He turns to leave and is holding the door for me.)
Cashier: “Sir! You don’t have to leave; just that illegal chica.”
Fiancé: “First, I’m the immigrant. Second, my ‘chica’s’ shirt says ‘You Don’t Scare Me. My Dad’s A United States Marine.’ It’s pretty obvious she’s a citizen. Third, my money isn’t going to your paycheck.”
Cashier: “No citizen is THAT dark!”
Me: *snort* “Then why are you here?”
(Another customer has come up and bursts out laughing.)
Cashier: “What do you idiots find so funny?”
(The other customer approaches and points at the cashier’s skin.)
Other Customer: “Your tan is darker than hers!”
(The other customer then turns to me.)
Other Customer: “Is your dad a Marine?”
Me: “Yes, sir! He’s [rank and unit]. Yours, sir?”
(The other customer gives his rank, and turns to my fiancé.)
Other Customer: “You treat that young lady right.”
(I have just started my first food-service job ever at a well known smoothie chain. It is my first closing shift, and I’m working alone with one of the night supervisors. We close at 9:30 pm, and I have been told the closing staff usually leaves around 10:30 pm.)
Night Supervisor: “Okay, I’m going to go in back and count down the tills. You get started on the closing list, and I’ll be out in a while.”
Me: “Okay. This is my first closing shift though…”
Night Supervisor: “You’ll be fine.”
(I get to work like he says, but I am unfamiliar with the tasks, so it takes me a while. I am still working on the list when he finally comes out at 10:30 pm.)
Night Supervisor: “Whoa, what’s going on? We’re way behind.”
Me: “Sorry, but I don’t really know the jobs yet.”
Night Supervisor: “This isn’t good. Let’s hurry and get done.”
(By the time we finish the list, it’s 11 pm. The supervisor approaches me with the sign-in sheet.)
Night Supervisor: “We can’t let them know how late we were here. We have to be out by 10:30 pm at the latest, or we’ll both be in big trouble.”
Me: “What do we do?”
Night Supervisor: “Just mark yourself down as 10:30 pm; it’ll be fine.”
(I’m a little upset by this, but naive enough that I go along with it. A few weeks later, I’m joking with one of the supervisors on the day shift.)
Me: “Yeah, I’m pretty slow at the closing stuff. [Night Supervisor] and I ended up staying until 11 pm the first time I did it, and had to lose the half hour of work so we wouldn’t get in trouble.”
Day Supervisor: “What? You’re not responsible for that. It’s [Night Supervisor]’s job to make sure things get done on time. You wouldn’t have been in trouble at all.”
Me: “Really?”
Day Supervisor: “Yeah, don’t listen to a thing he says about that. He’s the slowest closer anyway.”
(That was the last time I let someone talk me into working for free!)
(I am ringing up a customer. After I tell him his total, he decides to continue shopping. He tries to hand me a $100 bill, but I tell him to hold on to it until he’s done shopping. I watch him shove it in his pocket. A few minutes later, he comes back with a second item.)
Me: “Your total today is $32.44.”
(The customer grabs the bag and begins to walk away.)
Me: “Sir, you still need to pay for your purchase. It’s $32.44.”
Customer: “I already gave you $100!”
Me: “No, I asked you to hold on to your money until you finished shopping.”
Customer: “Nu-uh, you put it in the register.”
Me: “Sir, it’s in your right pants pocket.”
(He reaches in, pulls out the bill, and hastily shoves it back in his pocket.)
Customer: “I saw you take it! Hey everyone! This b**** stole my money!”
Me: “Sir, I assure you that your money is in your pocket.”
Customer: “Nah, f*** you, b****! Give me back my money!”
(He then comes over the counter at me as I’m dialing security. I give him my ‘don’t mess with me’ glare and he backs off, but moves on to threatening the other customers, saying they were all on it and that one of them has his money. Security finally arrives and escorts him out, banning him from the premises.)
(I am co-teaching a parent-child swim class for children aged six months to two years. I am 23, and my coworker is 16. During free swim, where the children get to play with toys, I am going from child to child and singing to them by way of rubber duck.)
Me: “Rubber ducky, you’re the one.”
(The child’s mom is grinning and joining in.)
Child’s Mom: “You make bath time lots of fun!”
Coworker: “What’s that from?”
Me: *aghast* “Have you never seen Sesame Street?”
Coworker: “No…”
(I pretend to be in pain, and then I grin at the mom.)
Me: “I still have all the old sing-alongs on VHS.”
(I turn to my coworker.)
Me: “You do know what a VHS is, right?”
Coworker: “Aren’t they like those black box things you play home movies on?”
(Never have I felt so old!)
