(A group of us are renting out a nature center to do an unrelated overnight retreat. It is the morning and we are eating breakfast. The wildlife experts start coming in, bringing some animals with them.)

Snake Owner: “Hey. This snake isn’t poisonous. Any of you want to hold it?”

Me: “Ooh! I do! I do!”

Snake Owner: “Cool. I need to run back to my car. Just hold on to it for a sec, will you?”

(The snake owner runs off to his car. In the meantime, the snake is slithering around in my hoodie, and eventually nestles in the hood. The teacher in charge of the retreat walks in.)

Teacher: “Hey, [My Name]. We need you to—”

(The snake rears up suddenly.)

Teacher: “AHHH! Oh, my God. Don’t move! There’s a snake in your sweater!”

(I decide to make the best of it. I turn to look at my classmate.)

Me: “No! No! My lord! You promised if I retrieved the Horcrux, I could go free! Please!”

Classmate: *completely seriously* “Lord Voldemort has no mercy on Mudbloods. Nagini, STRIKE!”

Me: “Noooooooo!”

(I fell over as dramatically as possible without hurting the snake. The wildlife man came back in to find me on the floor, the teacher screaming, and my classmates dying of laughter.)

This story is part of our Snakes roundup!

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(My fair-trade, non-profit store is rather on the small side. We have no stockroom, meaning that all of our available merchandise is on the sales floor. One night I am working alone when new customers come in. The wife is very pleasant, but the husband decides that he’s going to do everything in his power to mess with me. After about twenty minutes of his questioning my store’s mission, whether we really qualify as a non-profit, and why he should care about the people who make the products we sell, he and his wife decide on a silk lamp. We have only one available.)

Customer: “How much is the lamp?”

Me: “That is [price].”

Customer: “I mean after my discount. You’re going to give me a discount because I’m buying the floor model.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have a back room. Everything we sell is the ‘floor model.’ It’s going to be [price].”

Customer: “Oh, come on! You gotta give me some kind of discount!”

Customer’s Wife: “Honey, stop talking before I tell her to add on a bonus charge for having to put up with you.”

(I receive a lot of telemarketer calls during the day.)

Telemarketer: “Hi! I’m collecting donations for [Local Police Charity].”

Me: “I’d like to help, but I really don’t have anything to spare.”

(The telemarketer starts more aggressively trying to solicit a donation.)

Me: “Look. I’m a private in the Army and—”

Telemarketer: “Oh! Then you should be happy to help out your brothers in uniform!”

Me: “Okay, look. Have you ever been kicked in the crotch?”

Telemarketer: “W…what?”

Me: “It’s a serious question. Have you?”

Telemarketer: “Yes…”

Me: “Okay. Do you remember the pain? The nausea? The humiliation?”

Telemarketer: “Yes?”

Me: “Good. Now convert those feelings into dollars and cents. That’s what I get paid every month.”

(They stopped calling.)

(I am doing a return for a customer. She is getting money back for it. I have to get a manager to come up to open the register. To do so, I call over our walkie-talkies.)

Me: “Can I get an M.O.D to customer service?”

Customer: “M.O.D?”

Me: “Oh, M.O.D just means ‘manager on duty.'”

Customer: “Oh! I thought it stood for ‘Mother of Destruction!’”

(I notice my laptop is reaching a scorching hot level the more I pull up documents and presentation sources for my undergraduate research paper. I text my mom with a request.)

Me: “Can I add a laptop cooling pad to my Christmas list?”

Mom: “Does Santa know what they are?”

Me: “I’m sure his tech center knows.”

Mom: “They are not something he uses when asking the kids what they want. His lap must get very hot.”

Me: “That’s because he’s switched to an iPad for road work!”

Mom: “Oh, iElf!”