(I am at work and I see two girls from my college I know as acquaintances, but not as much more than that. I have a crush on one of them as she is really pretty and seems nice for the most part. I watch as she and her friend approach the register.)

My Crush: “No, you’re wrong! I’m telling you, he never said that!”

(I assume they are gossiping about something until I listen a little more to the conversation.)

Her Friend: “No, he did! He totally did! We watched it last night, stupid!”

My Crush: “Obi-Wan never says, ‘I love you, Anakin.’ The line is ‘You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.’!”

Her Friend: “No!”

My Crush: *turns to me* “Oh, hey, [My Name]! What’s up?”

Me: “Not much. I’m good. And you’re right; Obi-Wan’s line was ‘You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.’”

My Crush: “Oh, my God, thank you!” *turns to her friend* “And you call yourself a Star Wars fan.”

(Her friend scowls, but they pay and say goodbye. I watch as they get to the automatic doors. Her friend pretends to use ‘The Force’ on them. Suddenly, my crush jumps in front of her.)

My Crush: “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”

(I walked over and asked her out. We got married a month ago.)

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Customer: “I just locked my key in my car in front of the shop.”

Me: *I pick up some stuff* “Not a problem. I’ll pop it open for $5.00.”

Customer: “What are you going to do with that stuff?”

Me: “Open your car.”

Customer: “It’s a brand new Mercedes. I just drove it here from the dealer. You can’t touch it!”

Me: “Then how do I open it?”

Customer: “That’s your problem.”

Me: “Actually, it’s not; I didn’t lock the key in your car.”

Customer: “You have to open it.”

Me: “Watch me not open it.”

Customer: “Okay, then, but if you make any scratch or mark at all then you will have to pay Mercedes to repaint the whole car. That will cost thousands.”

Me: “So, if I’m successful I get $5.00, but if I make the smallest error it will cost me thousands of dollars?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Your car might just be there forever.”

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(It is prom season. We have a lot of girls coming in to try on dresses. Three girls have been trying on heaps of dresses. They finally select the ones they want.)

Me: “I see you’ve made your final selection! If you just bring them to the register, I’ll be happy to ring you up.”

(Their mother walks over.)

Mother: “Oh, what lovely dresses!”

Girl: “Yeah. We had to go through a lot of dresses before we found anything decent.”

(The mother gets a weird look on her face.)

Mother, to me: “Excuse me, miss?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Mother: “Are those the dressing rooms?”

Me: “Yes.”

Mother: “Do you mind if I run in there for a minute?”

Me: “Go ahead!”

(The mother walks in, and sees all the dresses on the floor of the dressing rooms. She comes out fuming.)

Mother: “You girls march right in there, pick up every dress, and hang them back up! Right now!”

Girl: “Why? It’s her job!”

Mother: “I did not raise a bunch of pigs! Get in there now, or you won’t be going to prom!”

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(I’m a high ropes instructor and work with kids in the forest. There are “No Smoking” signs posted all over the place, but I see a woman smoking right next to a sign.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry. There’s no smoking in this area.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “Because it could start a fire.”

Customer: *snottily* “Well, I’ll make sure not to do that.”

Me: “Ma’am, you still can’t smoke in this area. There are children everywhere… the smoke’s not good for them.”

Customer: “Well, they’re my children, so it’s really my decision to make, isn’t it?”

Me: “Actually, as this is our property, it’s our decision. Please take your disgusting habit elsewhere.”

Customer: “Your FACE is disgusting.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, as soon as my face starts causing cancer, you can complain.”

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(I walk in and stand in a line. I’ve been there for all of five seconds before a man runs in, elbows his way to the front of the queue and slams a burger in front of the cashier. She is a young teenager.)

Customer: “You f****** b****! How many f****** times do I have to tell you no f****** sauce?!”

Cashier: *smiling all the way through the exchange* “I’m sorry, sir, what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “You f****** up my burger! I want a refund now!”

Cashier: “Certainly, sir! Do you remember what time you came in at?”

Customer: “How am I supposed to f****** know? You’re the one who took the d*** order!”

Cashier: “I’ll have a look, sir, if you give me one moment.”

(She taps her screen, all the while being yelled abuse at by the customer. All the other customers have since cleared out, except for me. I motion to the cashier that I’ve called the police.)

Cashier: “Hm… oh, is this your order?” *rattles off a few items*

Customer: “Yes, that’s my d*** order! Now give me my f****** refund!”

Cashier: “Certainly, sir, let me just authorise that for you.”

(She taps on her screen some more and swipes a card a few times.)

Customer: “F****** hurry up, you b****! My f****** dinner’s getting cold!”

Cashier: “My apologies, sir, give me one moment. Would you like me to give you a fresh order?”

Customer: “You’d better, you b****!”

Cashier: *hands customer his refunded money* “Okay, it’ll be three minutes to cook your order so if you’d like to sit down-”

(At this point the man throws the money he’s just been given at the cashier and screams abuse at her. She picks up the change and counts it.)

Cashier: “Your change comes up to £3.71, which is just enough for another meal. Which one would you like?”

Customer: “Would you just hurry up and give me my d*** food! Are you f****** simple or something?”

Cashier: “No, just distracting you ’till the police get here.”

(Two uniformed police officers walk in and take the man away, who is still cursing. The manager walks out of a side room which he has been hiding in–he’s about thirty and male–and offers her a promotion on the spot. She promptly tells him that she’d rather die than be spineless like him and quits. She then pockets the change, grabs most of the food on display and leaves, but not before thanking me and sharing half the food with me.)