(During a heated debate in my Sociology class about the pros and cons of immigration, the discussion turned to illegal immigration.)

Student: “I pay my taxes. If I have to pay sales tax, I think they should too!”

(I work at a place that provides kayaks, hiking/climbing gear, canoes, and inner tubes for students at our university.)

Young Woman: “Hi, I need deodorant and a tampon.”

Me: “Um, we don’t have those here.”

Young Woman: “What do you mean?”

Me: “This is the Outdoor Center. We provide outdoor recreational equipment for students.”

Young Woman: “Well I’m a student, I’m outside, and I need deodorant and a tampon!”

(About this time my co worker looks up with a look on her face of WTF?!)

Me: “Yeah…those don’t come with kayaks or canoes.”

Young Woman: “They should!”

(I walk off to let my female coworker take over this one.)

(For three years, my job was to deal with angry parents. I was very good at it. Most of the time.)

Parent: *angrily* “I need to speak to someone about my daughter’s roommates!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”

Parent: “Her roommates are awful to her! ”

Me: “Okay. Can you detail the problems for me? The more specific you can be, the better we can help your daughter and her roommates settle their problems.”

Parent: “They curse, and they play loud music, and they’re, well, they’re just not *like* us.”

Me: “In what way are they not *like* you, ma’am?”

Parent: “Well, they’re…farm people.”

(Twenty seconds of absolute silence as I am, for once, thrown off my game. I’ve heard racial B.S. and religious B.S., but never *farm* B.S.)

Parent: “Not that there’s anything wrong with farm people. It’s just that we’re not farm people.”

(I’m still in shock. She keeps going.)

Parent: I mean, farms are useful, but we’re from the city. My daughter grew up going to the theater and to museums.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can assure you, as a kid from a farm myself, I’ve been to the theater and to museums. What we probably have here is a personality clash.”

(There’s about a 10 second pause that just drips with uncomfortable.)

Parent: “Perhaps I should speak to someone else.”

Caller: “Hi, I lost my cellphone this weekend. I was wondering if you’d found it?”

Me: “Well, maybe. What does it look like?”

Caller: “It’s a black Nokia; orange on the sides.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but your phone is not here.”

Caller: “Oh. Well…can I come by and just, like, take another one?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “Well, you know, since I’ve lost my phone and all, and it’s not like the phones you have is anyone’s property…”

Me: “Ehm…well..how would you feel if I gave your phone away to someone else?”

Caller: *silence* “Well that would be kinda rude.”

Me: “Yes.”

Caller: *more silence* *click*

(I was in our technology support office when a housekeeping staff person, Donna, stopped by. There was no preamble to the dialog below.)

Donna: “Dr. Franklin gets e-mail in his office.”

Me: *nods*

Donna: “Alicia says she can check her e-mail in the office.”

Me: *nods*

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: “Nice.”

Donna: “Nice?”

Me: “Not nice?”

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: “I like e-mail, too.”

Donna: “You don’t have it?”

Me: “I do.”

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: *biting lower lip, uncertain what to say or do*

Donna: “I like e-mail.”

Me: *glancing at the clock on the wall*

Donna: “I like to have e-mail.”

Me: “I like having e-mail, too, and I check it all the time.”

Donna: “Can I have it? I like to have e-mail.”

Related:
The Art Of Ambiguity

(Girl walks up to the desk looking around, confused. It is Ash Wednesday, and I work at a Catholic university.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Girl: “Yes, can I ask you a question?”

Me: “Sure.”

Girl: “Why does everyone have crosses on their foreheads?”

Me: “…it’s Ash Wednesday.”

Girl: “Oh. I thought they were part of a cult or something.”

(There is an ID check to enter the lab and to print.)

Me: “Hi, can I see your ID please?”

Guy: “No, I don’t need ID to come in here.”

Me: “Yes, at this lab it is required.”

Guy: “But I don’t need an ID to come in!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I really need your ID or I can’t let you come into the lab.”

Guy: “Oh I need ID to come in? Why didn’t you just ask me for it?!”

Me: *headdesk*

Related:
Zero Short Term Memory
Short Term Memory Is For The Weak

(I work tech support for a university, and our help desk supports faculty/staff only. On this day, a student walks in.)

Student: “I’m here to turn in my paper.”

Me: “I’m sorry, this is the *** Faculty Help Desk, we don’t deal with student assignments.”

Student: “But I don’t know where to turn it in. Can’t you just turn it in for me?”

Me: “No, if you don’t know where to turn it in, I would certainly not have a clue.”

Student: “But can’t you just take it?”

Me: “No. If you’re really that confused, contact your professor or go to the department office. I’m sure they can help you.”

Student: “But can’t you just take it?”

Me: *blinks in disbelief* “Um…”

Student: “Please, take it!”

Me: “Ok.”

(I proceed to take it and place it in the recycle bin in front of her.)

Student: “Thank you so much!”