(I work for a large chain opticians. One of our main competitors has a store three doors down.)

Customer: “I have an appointment. My name is [Name].”

Me: “Can I take your date of birth as well. I can’t seem to find your name on screen.”

Customer: “It’s [date]. I know I have an appointment in five minutes with Mr. [Name].”

Me: “We don’t have anyone here with that name and I can’t find you in our customer list. Are you sure the appointment isn’t with [Competitor]?”

Customer: “Just because I need the test doesn’t make me blind! I know where my appointment is and I have the card to prove it!”

(The customer throws his appointment card on the desk. It becomes immediately clear that he is supposed to be three doors down.)

Me: “I’m sorry, Mr [Name]. That is [Competitor]’s card. You need to go there.”

Customer: “Don’t give me that. I know where I am! Just because you’ve redecorated in the last week doesn’t mean you can pull the wool over my eyes.”

Me: “I assure you, sir. You are in [My Opticians’]. This happens all the time.”

Customer: “No! I want to speak to your manager! How dare you refuse to see me! I’ve been a customer of Mr [Name]’s for years and—”

(The customer looks closely at my uniform and the large logo on my shirt.)

Customer: “Why didn’t you tell me I was in the wrong place? I’m going to be late because of you!” *runs out*

(Both my girlfriend and I are bisexual. We very frequently form crushes on people we know, including currently two of our friends who are in a couple together.)

Me: “[Friend #1] was complaining today about how [Friend #2] apparently won’t ever allow them to have a threesome.”

Girlfriend: “Do you think it would’ve been okay for me to yell ‘I volunteer as tribute!’?”

(I am a customer. I witness an argument at one of the tills over a false label on an expensive cricket set. It appears as though the label has been attached by the customer. It is obviously written in green felt tip and not real.)

Customer: “Why won’t you give me the discount?”

Employee: “Because this is obviously a fake label.”

Customer: “HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF BEING A SCAM ARTIST! GET ME YOUR MANAGER!”

(The employee fetches a manager.)

Manager: “Sir, we are not going to sell you a set that costs £189.99 for only £15. This is obviously not a real label.”

(The customer takes a bat out of the pack and raises it in a threatening motion.)

Customer: “GIVE IT TO ME FOR FREE OR I’LL BREAK YOUR SKULLS!”

(Suddenly, out of nowhere, a random customer who is just walking past grabs the bat. He moves it round the unruly customer’s shoulder, flooring the bad customer and disarming him in one motion. The random customer goes right up to his face.)

Random Customer: “Buddy, you ain’t gonna get s*** unless you calm down and learn to be an honest man instead of a p***k. F*** off.”

(The unruly customer gets up and runs off, only to be grabbed by security and arrested a few minutes later. The good customer was given a £100 gift card and was even offered a job as a security guard! He declined, saying it was his duty to be a good citizen. I found out he was an ex-colonel in the British army and had been in tougher situations than that.)

(My 22-year-old sister is driving me in to work. We’re discussing Bill Nye, a television host of a science education show.)

Sister: “It’s so awesome that he’s an actual scientist. It almost makes up for the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause.”

Me: “Wait, what?”

Sister: “You know, him being a real scientist makes up for the Easter Bunny and Santa not being real.”

Me: “I’m glad some part of your childhood could not be a falsification.”

Sister: “Yeah. I figured out really quick that the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real, but I learned to use that to my advantage.”

(My family go to my grandmother’s house to open even more Christmas presents. My grandparents have gotten us a trampoline, and are trying to get us to think that Santa has made a last minute delivery outside. That way, we can go outside and see our new trampoline.)

Grandma: “Hey kids! I hear something!”

Me: “What is it?!”

Grandma: “Shh! Listen!”

*silence*

Brother: “…sorry, I pooted.”