(A customer comes to my register with prenatal vitamins and a book on conception.)
Customer: "The tablets scanned at $32.50. They’re supposed to be $20!"
Me: "Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just get someone to check the price. Won’t be a moment."
Me: "No, I’m sorry. $32.50 is the correct price."
Customer: "$32.50 is way too expensive! I don’t want to conceive that much!"
(Customer #1 is slowly packing up her receipt, change, etc., while Customer #2, an elderly gentleman, is waiting patiently behind her.)
Customer #1: *noticing Customer #2* “Oh, I’m sorry I’m taking up so much of your time.”
Customer #2: “Oh, that’s okay. I’m just waiting to die.”
Me: “Hello! I’m [name] and I’ll be your server today. Are you ready to order?”
Customer: “No! You can’t serve me! You’re prettier than I am! You’re damaging my self-esteem!”
Me: *pause* “Well, you can request another server, if you like?”
Customer: “Yes! Get me another server. Someone less pretty!”
(Another waitress comes out. She’s perfectly good-looking, but visibly older than the customer whereas I’m younger, so we figured that would be okay.)
Waitress: “May I take your order, ma’am?”
Customer: “No no no! I asked for someone who isn’t pretty! Doesn’t this place employ ugly people?!”
(In the end, after deciding that even the male servers were far too good-looking, she left us feeling flattered, but very confused.)
(I have finished my shift and am doing my shopping at the self scan checkout, still in uniform.)
Customer: “Excuse me can you help me? The machine’s playing up.”
Me: “I’m sorry, I’ve actually finished. I can’t log on to the system after my shift, but I can call my colleague.”
Customer: “This is ridiculous! If you’ve finished why are you still here at this checkout?”
Me: “I’m shopping sir, like you are.”
Customer: “Why the h*** would you need to shop here?!”
Me: “I still need to eat, sir.”
Customer: “This is insane, what makes you think you have the right to eat?!”
Anatomically Correct Vs Politically Incorrect
(I give activity sessions for young children at a small museum in Scotland. During one of the sessions, the children have to guess what a mystery object is – in this case, some tobacco leaves.)
Me: “So you’ve guessed it’s some leaves. Does anybody know what leaves these are? A clue is the smell.”
(The children look nonplussed, understandably.)
Me: “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t know what this is. You’re all a bit young to be allowed this. Any guesses?”