(I’m at my parents’ house visiting for the Labor Day weekend. I’m sitting on the couch watching reruns of ‘The Cosby Show’, when my dad walks by.)

Dad: “You know, that’s the last great American sitcom right there. The last 20 years have just been full of dumb-a** parents and smart-a** kids!”

Me: “Wait, but what about our house where there’s smart-a** kids and smart-a** parents?”

Dad: “Well nobody’s filming us now, are they?”

(I am a female and have worked in the same supermarket for the past five years. I used to be blond, but I decide to dye my hair red. Most people have commented about how they like the new color, and how it suits me, and how they don’t recognize me.)

Customer: “Oh, I see you have dyed your hair. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Me: “Yeah, I was fed up with the original color, so I went for a change.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t like it. I want you to change it right now.”

Me: “You want me to leave work and pay to have my hair dyed a different color because you don’t like it?”

Customer: “Yes, why is that a problem?”

(The customer then stands there for another five minutes waiting for me to leave the till to go re-dye my hair.)

Me: “Ma’am, I cannot leave my till until I finish work.”

Customer: “Well that is just rude. I expect your hair color to be different when I next come in.”

(The customer walks off. I look at my coworker, who looks just as confused as me.)

Coworker: “Did that really just happen?”

(A man comes up to my teller window and gives me an account number that he wants to deposit a check into. I pull up the account to see that his wife is the only name on the account, but the check is written out to him.)

Me: “Hmm, do you have an account with us? Since the check is written out to you, I would have to first deposit it into your account and then transfer it to your wife’s account.”

(After having to explain this concept a couple more times, he gives me his own account number, and I notice just how much the check is for: almost $30,000.)

Me: “You know, I am actually going to need to put a three-day hold on this check.”

Husband: “What? Why?”

Me: “It’s based on a lot of factors, like your account activity and current balance, which is not much and under $500, and that you’ve chosen to come to a branch an hour from your house, which is a little odd.”

Husband: “What? I’ve been banking here for 30 years; you’re not putting a hold on my check. That’s just ridiculous. It’s a good check! Give it back to me. I’ll just take it somewhere where they’ll actually be happy to take my money!”

(After several more minutes of this, I ultimately agree to not put any hold on the check and he leaves. I show the check to my supervisor a couple minutes later, who says that we ARE going to put a hold on the funds. My manager is about to call the customer to let him know, when a woman walks up to my station.)

Wife: “Hi, I wanted to transfer my husband’s check into my account. He was just in here.”

Me: “Oh hi, give me just a second.”

(I grab my supervisor, who tells her that we will need to put a hold on the check, so we can’t transfer it to her account just yet.)

Wife: “Oh that’s fine. We don’t need the money now, but my husband is just so bad with his money that he’s not allowed to touch it. That’s why we keep it in my account. Otherwise he would just spend it.”

Me: “Oh, well thank you for understanding!”

Wife: “Oh I don’t care. It’s not a big deal. My husband was probably not very nice about it though, was he?”

Me: “Haha, well…”

Wife: “Yeah, he’s not very sociable.”

(I live near DC, so I am used to hearing tourists and tour groups ask very stupid questions. A group of out-of-state high-school kids are walking near me between two museums.)

Teenage Girl: “So… where are we right now, anyway?”

Teenage Boy: “In DC.”

Teenage Girl: “No, I mean, like, where in DC are we?”

Teenage Boy: “Oh, we’re on the National Mall.”

Teenage Girl: “Nuh-uh!”

Teenage Boy: “Yeah we are. Look at your map, right here.”

Teenage Girl: “No way! Are you SERIOUS?”

Teenage Boy: “Yeeeah…”

Teenage Girl: “That doesn’t make ANY sense!”

Teenage Boy: *silence*

Teenage Girl: “So, wait… you mean the National Mall isn’t, like, you know… an actual MALL?”

Teenage Boy: “Nope, but all the grass is 20% off!”

(I am working at a very popular fast food place. I am very sick, and have tried to call in, but as we were short-handed, I am asked to come and just work the lunch rush. Since the lunch rush is over, my manager tells me to help the last two customers, who appear to be construction workers, and then I can go home. I smile brightly despite feeling like crap.)

Me: “Hi, what can I get for you?”

Customer: “I want [sandwiches]!”

(I am confused, as he pluralizes the word and doesn’t specify the number of sandwiches.)

Me: “Sure, how many would you like?”

Customer: *glaring* “I… want… ONE… [sandwich]. Do you understand? ONE… [sandwich].”

Me: “Sure, sorry for the misunderstanding. It’s just usually when someone pluralizes a word, that means they want more than one. Would you like the meal, or just the sandwich?”

Customer: “I said ONE [sandwich]! I don’t want the d*** meal!”

Me: “Okay, no problem. Would you like anything else?”

Customer: “Yeah, give me a small fry and an orange juice.”

Me: “Sir, it would actually be cheaper for you to just get the meal, which comes with a medium fry, and then you could still get orange juice as the drink.”

Customer: “I said I don’t want the meal! Are you stupid?”

Me: “No, sir, just trying to save you money. But that’s fine. Your total is [total].”

(His total is a couple of dollars more than how much the meal would have been.)

Customer: “Wait. How much would the meal be?”

Me: “Just one moment, and I’ll total that up for you.”

(I press a few buttons, canceling out his order, and replace it with the meal with an orange juice.)

Me: “Your total doing it that way is [new total].”

Customer: “Huh. I guess it is cheaper. I’ll do that instead.”

(The customer pays, and I help the next customer in line, who is apparently one of his coworkers. This one is much nicer than the other one, and even says please and thank you. I get off work and go to change out of my work clothes so I can walk home. On my way out of the bathroom, I’m stopped by the two men.)

Customer: “Listen, I’m really sorry for how I treated you. There was no excuse for that. I’ve just had a really bad day.”

Me: “It’s okay, sir, really.”

Customer: “This is for you.”

(He hands me an apple pie, which he had apparently gotten after I had gone into the bathroom to change.)

Customer: “Your manager tells me that you are sick today, and still came in. I never would have guessed you weren’t feeling well. Your customer service is really extraordinary, and I told him so.”

Me: “Thank you so much, sir. I hope you have a much better day from here on out, both of you!”

(They wish me a good day also, and tell me they hope I feel better soon. Somehow, after that, I DO actually feel better!)