(Our clinic has an animal hotel which backs out onto the alley behind. The back entrance is for employees and for taking dogs out for walks, and so only has a small sign to indicate it is an animal clinic. It is otherwise an anonymous-looking building, in an alleyway that looks like several others behind our neighboring strip malls. One such alleyway contains a medical marijuana clinic. It is 8 am on a Sunday. A stranger in his early twenties approaches me as I am taking a dog out for his morning business. I am in my scrubs, and so on the street I am sometimes mistaken for a nurse.)

Stranger: “Hey, you work here?”

Me: “Yep, I’m new.”

Stranger: “Okay, cool. They let you bring your dog to work with you?”

Me: “No, this is one of our boarders. Can I help you with something?”

Stranger: “They shouldn’t let you keep dogs in there! What if they ate your stock?”

Me: “I assure you, the pharmacy is kept well away from them. Did you need something?”

Stranger: “Yeah, just a dime.”

Me: *blankly* “I don’t have my wallet with me, I’m sorry.”

Stranger: *also blankly* “No, I mean… could you let me into the building so I can get it?”

Me: *thinking he is joking, I laugh* “The clinic is technically closed, sorry. Besides, I don’t think I want you going through my stuff!”

Stranger: “I don’t get it! My friends said you guys are super helpful! I just want to buy a dime!”

(At this point, I finally putting the pieces together.)

Me: “Ah, actually… we aren’t that kind of clinic. That one is the next alley up, but I’m pretty sure they’re closed at this time of day. We’re an animal clinic.”

Stranger: “S***! Sorry to bother you!”

(The stranger starts to leave in the direction he came from, but then turns around and goes the way I pointed and laughs.)

Stranger: “Yeah… I might be a little high.”

Related:
Went To The Wrong Joint