(When I was in college, I used to work in the cafeteria. On this day, two girls are making fun of a third.)

Mean Girl #1: “Oooooh, a hamburger? So much for that diet.”

Mean Girl #2: “Are you kidding? She’s never been on a diet in her life!”

(The third girl who they are talking to is, for the record, very nice looking.)

Girl #3: *taken aback* “I… I worked out today. I need the protein.”

Me: “Come on, leave her alone. She can eat whatever she wants!”

Mean Girl #1: “Yeah, I guess you don’t have to worry about what you eat if you’re already fat and ugly!”

(One of my coworkers has been listening from a distance. He walks over, looks all three girls up and down, and then turns to the third.)

Coworker: “Excuse me, miss, but do you think I could get your phone number?”

Girl #3: “Are you serious?”

Coworker: “Completely! Who wouldn’t want a date with a beautiful girl who knows how to take care of herself?”

(This was five years ago. I’m going to be the best man at their wedding.)

I work at a grocery store in the floral department. There is a prom this Saturday, and it’s right before Mother’s Day, so things are pretty swamped at work right now. We only have one person who is a designer to make all of the hand-held bouquets, corsages, and boutonnieres. We aren’t taking any more orders for prom; we have too many for one person to do.

A customer in her forties or fifties comes in.

Customer #1: “I need a corsage with a black ribbon. It’s for my mother for Mother’s Day, but I need to pick it up on Saturday.”

Sadly for us, we do take the order for Saturday.

My coworker and I talk about it after she leaves, and we reach the conclusion that it’s actually a prom order. It tips us off that she asked for a black ribbon — for a mother on Mother’s Day, it should be a bright, almost pastel color, not black — and that she wanted to pick it up on Saturday instead of Sunday.

[Coworker] and I agree that Mother’s Day order pick-up will have to be Sunday because we already have too many orders scheduled for pick-up on Saturday.

About two minutes before I get off, we get a call. Before I answer, [Coworker] says:

Coworker: “I’ll bet they’re looking for a ‘Mother’s Day’ corsage, but they want to pick it up on Saturday.”

I answer the phone.

Customer #2: “I need a corsage for Mother’s Day, but I need to pick it up on Saturday.”

[Coworker] freaking called it!

Me: “I’m sorry, but Mother’s Day pick-up has to be on Sunday.”

Customer #2: “Oh. Okay.”

And they hung up. (I always wait for the customer to hang up first, just in case they still need something.)

Moral of the story: don’t order flowers last minute, especially during busy seasons and holidays.

(A father is letting five kids make a complete mess of the restaurant. They’re ripping napkins and using it as confetti, breaking chopsticks, and screaming their little heads off.)

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to tell them to stop doing that. They are disturbing the other customers.”

Father: *beaming* “No.”

Me: “No, as in, no, you won’t tell them to stop it?”

Father: *still beaming*“Yes.”

(I have to get back to work at this point and sure enough, the kids keep misbehaving. Several customers complain to me but I have no authority to throw them out. The last to complain is a table with about eight young guys.)

Customer #1: “So there’s nothing you can do about them?”

Me: “I’m so very sorry, sir, but no. I can get you a drink from the house to make up for it.”

Customer #2: “No, that won’t do.”

Me: “Well, I can see if I can get you a free dessert…”

Customer #2: “Not what I meant. Can’t you get your boss?”

Me: “I’m afraid he’s not in, sir.”

Customer #1: “Well, we won’t accept any free stuff. I bet that would come out of your pay.”

Customer #3: “Hold on…”

(The customer gets up and the others immediately follow him to the noisy, messy table. They’re now surrounded by eight tall, young men who look mighty pissed.)

Customer #3: *to the father* “Tell them to stop it.”

Father: *still beaming* “No.”

Customer #1: “You’re upsetting the waitress.”

Father: “Do you guys even work here?”

Customer #1: “No, we’re from that prison up the street. We’re out on parole. Funny coincidence, we all served seven years for kidnapping and murdering a bunch of noisy brats and a jerk who made minimum-wage waitresses cry.”

(At this point the kids become very, very quiet and the other patrons start giggling and staring.)

Father: “You’re lying.”

Customer #4: “Wanna take that chance, buddy?”

(One more lecherous grin was enough to send the whole bunch of misfits scurrying to the exit. My knights in shining armor actually got applause from the other diners and a free meal from me.)

(Note: our customer support number is close to a local driving school’s number.)

Me: “Thank you for calling. How may I help you?”

Customer: “How much for my daughter?”

Me: “Um…”

Customer: “She’s sixteen. It’s her first time. She needs training.”

Me: “Sir, I think you want the driving school.”

Customer: “Oh, what do you guys do?”

Me: “Adult websites.”

Customer: “Oh… OH! Oh, my God!”

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Customer: “Look! My friend told me I could get this type of hammer at your store! Now go get it for me!”

Cashier: “Sir, I already told you… We don’t have ANY hammers back here that aren’t already stocked on the shelves.”

Customer: “LOOK HERE. F**K YOU! I KNOW YOU’RE TRYING TO SAVE MONEY BY SWITCHING OUT YOUR STOCKS! GET ME THIS HAMMER!”

(At this point, I come to the front of the store, overhearing what’s going on; note that I’m the manager.)

Me: “Is there a problem?”

Customer: “Yes, sir! Your employee here is not doing what I tell her to!”

Me: “Well, you need to calm down and understand that we don’t have what you’re looking for. So maybe you should go back to shelves and check–”

Customer: “F**K THAT! IT’S NOT THERE, OKAY?! YOU NEED TO F**KING GET ME WHAT I ASK FOR!”

Me: “That’s it. Get out of my store.”

Customer: “What? NO!”

Me: “Sir, get out, or I have to take you out.”

Customer: “Then do it!”

(I go around the counter and approach the customer. I yank him by his collar & drag him to the door.)

Me: “Now, then… you wanna apologize and maybe come back in?”

Customer: “No! I just want my hammer! God, what is this madness?!”

Me: *puts the customer down*

Customer: *confused* “What is it?”

(I turn back to the cashier, who nods in approval. I then turn back to face the customer.)

Me: “Madness? THIS! IS! SPARTAAAAAAAAA!” *kicks customer out of store and slams door*