(I suffered from a speech disorder as a child, and while I speak perfectly now, I have a slight twang in my voice. I’m on the checkout when a smartly-dressed customer approaches the till.)

Me: “Hello! How are you today?”

Customer: “…where are you from?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Where. Are. You. From?”

Me: “Um, I’m local, if that’s what you mean.”

Customer: “No, where were you born?”

Me: “In [Local Hospital].”

Customer: *sighs* “Where are your parents from?”

Me: “They’re from [Local Town] and [Local City].”

Customer: *getting irate* “I just want you to tell me where you’re from! Explain your accent!”

Me: “Oh! My accent! Yes, there’s an explanation for that; see when I was a kid—”

Customer: “I don’t want to hear your life story! Why are you ashamed of your heritage? You are probably bringing shame to your family by denying them! I get that there are racists here, but you don’t need to deny who you are! I won’t judge you!”

Me: “Sir, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Customer: “Tell me your parents were born in a different country!”

Me: “Um… they were born in [Other Country]?”

Customer: “Yes! See how easy that is? Why couldn’t you have just said that in the first place?!”

(He grabs his bags and marches off. I turn to the next customer.)

Me: “Afternoon!”

Customer #2: “That was a lie, right?”

Me: “Yep. How can I help you today?”

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(My boyfriend and I are both very busy this semester. As a result, we have both slowly become more sleep-deprived as time goes on. While I handle it fairly well, my boyfriend ends up saying some… interesting things.)

Boyfriend: “What if I wanted one of those?” *points at a motorcycle*

Me: “No! Absolutely not!”

Boyfriend: “Why not?”

Me: “Because they’re dangerous!”

Boyfriend: “What if I promise to keep it in a cage?”

Me: “…what?”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, just feed it through the bars or something.”

Me: *amused* “Why are you feeding your motorcycle? Wait, WHAT are you feeding your motorcycle?”

Boyfriend: “Tofu!”

Me: “Why are you feeding your motorcycle tofu?”

Boyfriend: *matter of factly* “Because it sounded better than feeding it kittens.”

(My family and I are on vacation and visiting the national park, where my step-grandmother works at the ticket booth. Apparently, a lot of people think that the tour tickets you can purchase before entering will get you into the park for free. My step-grandmother is off work, and is in the back seat of the car. She decides to pull a little prank on her coworker and hands my dad the tour tickets.)

Step-Grandmother: “Hey, give these to the lady at the booth and say, ‘These will get us in for free, right?'”

(My dad decides to go along with the joke as we approach the booth.)

Dad: “Oh, we have tour tickets. They get us in for free.”

Coworker: *already irritated* “No they do not, sir.”

Dad: “What? Yes they do!”

Coworker: “No they do NOT!”

Dad: “Well I can’t believe this! They’re supposed to get us in for free! She said they’d get us in for free!”

Coworker: “Oh yeah? Who said?”

Dad: “[Step-Grandmother].”

Coworker: “[Step-Grandmother]… oh!”

(We roll down the back window to reveal my step-grandmother. The coworker sees her and cracks up, followed by everyone in the car as well as a coworker in the other ticket booth.)

Coworker: “[Step-Grandmother], that was mean! I was getting really mad!”

Dad: “I’m sorry! I hope I didn’t ruin your day!”

Coworker: “That’s alright; you just keep an eye on this one!”

(I take calls from customers about billing and any cable troubleshooting.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Cable Company]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Your cable has blown up my TV! All I have is a black screen. The TV won’t even turn on. Your equipment is cheap, and you’re a bad cable company!”

Me: “Sir, let me see if I can help you.”

Customer: “I don’t think so; you are all stupid!”

Me: “I don’t see any outage reported in your area. Can you tell if your cable box has any lights on it?”

Customer: “Yes, it has a red and yellow one. But you have blown up my f****** TV! You’ll have to pay for it.”

Me: “Sir, can I have you pick up the remote and push the TV button, and then the power button?”

(Note: If the TV is just turned off, this will turn it on.)

Customer: “Nothing, I still have a black screen. This is a new TV. I spent good money on it!”

Me: “I understand, sir. Let’s start with simple things and work our way up so maybe we won’t have to send a tech out.”

Customer: “You’ll have to pay for my TV; that’s what you’ll do!”

Me: “Are there any kind of lights or buttons lit up on your TV?”

Customer: “No, you blew it up.”

Me: “Can I have you just check to make sure it is still plugged in?”

Customer: “I never unplugged it; of course it’s plugged in. But if it will make you happy…”

(He sets the phone down and I hear him swearing in the background and the TV come on.)

Customer: “Forget it. I’ll… fix it myself.” *click*

(I am at work on a particularly hot day, when my hands and ears start itching. At first I pay no attention to it, but eventually I start itching in other places, and I see welts appearing on my arms. Having never had an allergic reaction to anything, I have no idea what they are, but they keep getting worse and worse throughout the day, and then throughout the evening. Finally, my boyfriend drags me out to the car and takes me to the emergency room at the hospital nearby. The triage nurse appears very angry that another patient has showed up.)

Triage Nurse: “Help you?”

Boyfriend: “Yes, my girlfriend has these welts all over her, and they’re getting worse. She’s also having trouble breathing. I think we need a doctor.”

Triage Nurse: *without even looking at me* “It’s probably just heat rash. Fill out these forms and bring them back when you’re done.”

(She hands the forms to us, and I’m so out of it I have to have my boyfriend fill them out for me. He leaves me sitting in the waiting room to turn them in, and we settle in to wait. Nearly 45 minutes later, I’m gasping for breath and the welts have spread all over my chest, stomach, arms, legs, feet, hands, throat, and ears. Finally, we go up to the desk to see what’s going on; my boyfriend is practically carrying me.)

Boyfriend: “Look, my girlfriend is getting a lot worse while we’ve been sitting here waiting. How much longer is it going to be?”

Triage Nurse: *glaring at my boyfriend* “It’s just a heat rash; I don’t know why you two even came in—”

(Just then, a doctor happens to come out of the doors next to the desk. He takes one look at me, and then turns to the nurse.)

Doctor: “How long has she been here?!”

Boyfriend: “Almost an hour.”

Doctor: “Are you kidding me?!”

(The doctor calls to a couple of orderlies.)

Doctor: “Get her back here NOW!” *turns to the nurse* “What were you thinking, making her wait like that?”

Triage Nurse: “It’s just a heat rash!”

Doctor: “LOOK at her: does that look like a heat rash to you?! No, don’t answer that; I’ll deal with you once I’ve got her stabilized!”

(I’m taken back to be treated, and given several shots. At one point, I start to drift off to sleep and the doctor slaps me awake, telling me not to DARE go to sleep yet. Finally, I’m stable, and he sends my boyfriend in to sit with me while I’m recovering, and he goes to speak to the triage nurse. I can hear him yelling at her, and then he comes back in to us.)

Doctor: “Feeling better?”

Me: “Oh yes, much better. What happened? What were those welts?”

Doctor: “You had a really bad allergic reaction to something; those were hives. And your boyfriend saved your life. You wouldn’t have lived the night if he hadn’t brought you in, and to be honest with you, if that stupid nurse had made you wait longer, I’m not so sure we could have saved you, even in this short period of time! Next time you start breaking out in hives, take an antihistamine immediately, and then come see us right away if they get worse.”

(We thank him profusely, finish our paperwork, and leave. Ever since then, I’ve always been grateful to that doctor, and I always keep Benadryl on hand just in case!)