(I work at a cash register at a fairly popular clothing store. A customer walks up to me with a t-shirt in hand.)

Customer: “Do you have this in size extra-medium?”

Me: *stares blankly* “An extra-medium?”

Customer: “Yeah. The medium just doesn’t fit.”

Me: “Is it too big?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Is it too small?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Then what’s wrong with it?”

Customer: “It’s not medium enough.”

Me: “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

(I take the shirt into the back room and take out a sharpie. I carefully draw an ‘X’ in front of the ‘M’ on the tag of the shirt. I then return and hand the shirt to the customer. He checks the tag, then goes and tries it on in the fitting room. I see him again at the checkout counter.)

Me: “Were you happy with your shirt?”

Customer: “Yeah. That extra-medium fits so much better than the medium!”

(I am applying for an auto loan, and there are some blanks in the application that can’t be filled in, since I am a preacher.)

Loan Officer: “What should I put on this line for ‘supervisor?'”

Me: “I don’t actually have one. I’m considered self-employed.”

Loan Officer: “I’ll think of something.”

(When I get home, a message is on my answering machine.)

Answer Machine: “Hello, this is [Name] from auto loans, calling about an employee of yours named [My Name]. His loan application says he works for ‘Lord God Almighty.’ Please have your human resources call me at this number to verify his employment status.”

(There are two customers in line: the first customer is in her 20s, and the second customer is a middle-aged man. The first customer hands me her credit card.)

Me: “Ma’am, I need to see your ID.”

Customer #1: “Oh? Is that something new?”

Me: “Yeah, sorry for the inconvenience!”

Customer #1: “Oh, no! It’s totally fine. My driver’s license expired while I was in Reykjavik, though. I just got back; see. Will you take my passport?”

Me: “Oh, of course!”

(Customer #2 stomps up to us as Customer #1 is looking for it.)

Customer #2: “You mean to tell me that I’m having to stand in line and wait behind a foreigner? I’m an American! I demand you help me before helping her!”

(Customer #1 rolls her eyes and shows me her passport.)

Customer #1: “Will this work?”

Me: “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Customer #2: “No! Don’t help her! What country are you from, b****? Russia? Don’t help her! It’s people like her that are ruining this country!”

Customer #1: “Sir, I am an American. And even if I wasn’t, how dare you speak to me and this cashier in such a manner?”

Customer #2: “Liar! An American wouldn’t have a passport!”

Me: “Sir, if you’d looked at her passport, you’d see that it says USA all over it.”

Customer #2: *looks at Customer #1’s passport* “But… but that can’t be! She wouldn’t use a passport if she’s a native American!”

Me: “Right. She’s really from Italy; she just likes to draw random eagles all over her passport. Now where are you from, sir? I’m sure this lady would like to know, so she can be sure never to visit.”

(Customer #2 leaves in a huff, threatening to call the manager and corporate.)

Customer #1: *sighs* “Is your manager here?”

Me: “Oh, yeah. Do you need to talk to him?”

Customer #1: “Please.”

(I get the manager, and he and Customer #1 have a conversation. I go back to work. The manager comes back a few minutes later and drops a $20 in the tip jar.)

Me: “What is that?”

Manager: “From the customer I was talking to. She said she wanted to be sure you didn’t get in trouble for standing up for her and thought you deserved a tip.”

(I have ordered a veggie sandwich from Employee #1, and Employee #2 is finishing up the order.)

Employee #2: “What would you like on it?”

Me: “I’ll have hot peppers, and all the veggies.”

Employee #2: “Okay, so lettuce, onion, tomato, pickle, oil—”

Me: *jokingly* “Oil’s not a vegetable.”

Employee #2: “Yeah, but is lettuce really a vegetable?”

(It appears that she’s not being rhetorical, so I answer.)

Me: “Yes.”

(At this point, Employee #1 interjects.)

Employee #1: “What did you think it was?”

Employee #2: “I thought it was a plant… oh, wait…”

(I have a very active two year old. We are driving home from the grocery store when I notice her fiddling with her car seat buckle.)

Me: “Do not play with that. It keeps you safe if we have an accident.”

Daughter: “It keeps me from peeing myself?”