(I work in a specialty meat shop. An older man orders several specific cuts of meat, including a pork loin cut into chops. It is store policy that we ask the customers how they want each item wrapped. When the chops are ready, I overhear this exchange between the customer and a female coworker.)

Coworker: “Sir, how would you want your loin packaged?”

Customer: “Are you propositioning me?”

Coworker: *speechless*

(Everyone else in the shop bursts into laughter.)

(Due to difficulties returning from a petting zoo, my mother and I had a three-month-old calf riding in the front seat of our truck. We were hungry so we went thru a drive-thru on our way home. After we ordered we drove up to the first window.)

Cashier #1: “Your total is [total]. Is that a real cow?”

Mom: “Why, yes, she is.”

(The cashier gives my mom the change and points the animal out to her coworkers around her. We drive up to the second window.)

Cashier #2: “Here’s your order. Is that cow real?”

Cow: “Mooooo!”

Mom: “As you can see, she is real and really hungry, so thank you for the hamburgers. She will really enjoy them.”

(I work at a pretzel place in a mall. On the posters, menu, and signs hanging in our store and outside of it, the bite-sized pieces of pretzels are called “pretzel bites”. It says that everywhere because they’re our most popular product.)

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Store]. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Can I get some of your pretzel nubbins?”

Me: “Ex-Excuse me?”

Customer: “The nubbins. The little bits. The pretzel bagels.”

Me: “Do… do you mean pretzel bites?”

Customer: “Yeah, the bagel bites, or the pretzel nuggets. With salt.”

Me: “So you want a big ol’ bag of bagel-y biggle bits, huh?”

Customer: *offended* “Excuse you?”

Me: “Small, medium, or large pretzel nubbins, ma’am?”

(It’s summer and I am very obviously pregnant at about seven months. A male customer walks by and notices my belly.)

Customer: “It’s the wrong time of year for that!”

Me: “Oh, believe me, I know.”

(He walks off to browse and I continue setting up an end cap display which includes some very low shelves. As it’s rather hard to bend down at seven months pregnant, I’m now kneeling on the floor to put things on the bottom shelves. The same customer walks by again.)

Customer: “Well, you know, that’s what got you into trouble in the first place.”

(A man calls me asking about his balance. The call starts out normal enough. In order get inform on account we need to get ID.)

Me: “Okay, in order to help you, I need your full name and the last four digits of your social security number.”

Customer: “NO!”

Me: “Sir, if you want this information, I need to get your information.”

Customer: “I don’t care! I’m not giving you my info!”

Me: “Why not?”

Customer: “You’re just going to give it to your alien overlords!!!”

Me: “Well, sir, we already have your information here. We just need you to provide it so that we can verify–”

Customer: *screams and hangs up*