(I am a female and have worked in the same supermarket for the past five years. I used to be blond, but I decide to dye my hair red. Most people have commented about how they like the new color, and how it suits me, and how they don’t recognize me.)

Customer: “Oh, I see you have dyed your hair. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Me: “Yeah, I was fed up with the original color, so I went for a change.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t like it. I want you to change it right now.”

Me: “You want me to leave work and pay to have my hair dyed a different color because you don’t like it?”

Customer: “Yes, why is that a problem?”

(The customer then stands there for another five minutes waiting for me to leave the till to go re-dye my hair.)

Me: “Ma’am, I cannot leave my till until I finish work.”

Customer: “Well that is just rude. I expect your hair color to be different when I next come in.”

(The customer walks off. I look at my coworker, who looks just as confused as me.)

Coworker: “Did that really just happen?”

(My friend and I are going to see a show at a downtown theater. However, she is on a breathing machine that needs to be recharged every few hours, and the machine has just died as we arrive there. I have already called ahead and spoken to several people who assure me that there are outlets in the lobby and offices she can use to charge it between acts since there are none near the actual seats.)

Me: “Perfect! There’s an outlet and a chair right at the front door. We have about 15 minutes until the show, so you can charge it until then.”

(I get her machine set up, as she is understandably not feeling well due to lack of oxygen. An usher sees and comes over.)

Usher: “Excuse me! You can’t use that outlet.”

Me: “No, it’s okay. I already talked to [head usher] on the phone and explained our situation. I know she preferred us to use the outlets in the back of the theatre, but we couldn’t get there in time.”

Usher: “Well, [head usher] isn’t here, but I’ll go see what [another head usher] says about this. I can’t imagine this is okay!”

(The usher goes to talk to another woman; I check on my friend. A few minutes later, she comes back.)

Usher: “[Another head usher] says she has no idea what you’re talking about. You’ll have to get up now and go to your seats.”

Me: “Listen, I’m really sorry, but that’s not possible. We need to charge the battery as long as possible so it doesn’t die again. [Head usher] already said we could charge it here.”

Usher: “Maybe [head usher] said you could charge it in the back offices, but not here! It is not our fault that your friend forgot to charge her cell phone.”

(Her breathing machine is about the size of a briefcase.)

Me: “Her cell phone? She’s charging her breathing machine! She needs to charge it until the show starts.”

Usher: *going very pale* “Her breathing machine? Well of course she can charge it! We don’t want her to not be able to breathe, do we?”

(The usher leaves us alone after that and afterwards, even shows us a nearby hotel that would let us charge the batteries in their lobby so we have enough power to get home!)

(I’m at my parents’ house visiting for the Labor Day weekend. I’m sitting on the couch watching reruns of ‘The Cosby Show’, when my dad walks by.)

Dad: “You know, that’s the last great American sitcom right there. The last 20 years have just been full of dumb-a** parents and smart-a** kids!”

Me: “Wait, but what about our house where there’s smart-a** kids and smart-a** parents?”

Dad: “Well nobody’s filming us now, are they?”

(A man comes up to my teller window and gives me an account number that he wants to deposit a check into. I pull up the account to see that his wife is the only name on the account, but the check is written out to him.)

Me: “Hmm, do you have an account with us? Since the check is written out to you, I would have to first deposit it into your account and then transfer it to your wife’s account.”

(After having to explain this concept a couple more times, he gives me his own account number, and I notice just how much the check is for: almost $30,000.)

Me: “You know, I am actually going to need to put a three-day hold on this check.”

Husband: “What? Why?”

Me: “It’s based on a lot of factors, like your account activity and current balance, which is not much and under $500, and that you’ve chosen to come to a branch an hour from your house, which is a little odd.”

Husband: “What? I’ve been banking here for 30 years; you’re not putting a hold on my check. That’s just ridiculous. It’s a good check! Give it back to me. I’ll just take it somewhere where they’ll actually be happy to take my money!”

(After several more minutes of this, I ultimately agree to not put any hold on the check and he leaves. I show the check to my supervisor a couple minutes later, who says that we ARE going to put a hold on the funds. My manager is about to call the customer to let him know, when a woman walks up to my station.)

Wife: “Hi, I wanted to transfer my husband’s check into my account. He was just in here.”

Me: “Oh hi, give me just a second.”

(I grab my supervisor, who tells her that we will need to put a hold on the check, so we can’t transfer it to her account just yet.)

Wife: “Oh that’s fine. We don’t need the money now, but my husband is just so bad with his money that he’s not allowed to touch it. That’s why we keep it in my account. Otherwise he would just spend it.”

Me: “Oh, well thank you for understanding!”

Wife: “Oh I don’t care. It’s not a big deal. My husband was probably not very nice about it though, was he?”

Me: “Haha, well…”

Wife: “Yeah, he’s not very sociable.”

(Both of my earlobes are stretched to half an inch.)

Young Girl: *in a loud kid’s whisper* “Mommy, her ears are broken!”

Mother: *mortified* “I am SO sorry!”

Me: *laughing* “No, no, it’s fine! That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”