(It’s almost dusk at the gift shop I am running at the southern rim of the Grand Canyon. A tourist couple approaches.)

Woman: “Where is the best spot to watch the Canyon at night?”

Me: “Well, anywhere along the walkway is good, but the sun’s going down very soon.”

Man: “Yes, we want to be here when they turn on the lights.”

Me: “…lights?”

Woman: “Yes, so we can see it at night.”

Me: “Umm, the Canyon is over a mile deep at this point, and the northern rim is over a mile across from here. There aren’t any lights in it for nighttime.”

Man: “Then how do you see it at night?”

Me: “…basically it’s the big blackness out there.”

(I am at the pharmacy picking up my prescription. I am standing in line behind a very elderly lady.)

Pharmacist: “Hello, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

Elderly Lady: “I am picking up my prescription. It’s under Mrs. [last name].”

(I overhear the elderly lady, and realize that she has the same last name as I do. This is not a totally uncommon name, but it doesn’t happen too often.)

Pharmacist: “Okay! Here we go I think it’s… huh…”

(The pharmacist looks confused as she picks up some pills.)

Pharmacist: “Can you tell me your first name please? I don’t think I grabbed the right one.”

Elderly Lady: “Sure, it’s [first name].”

(By a crazy coincidence, this is my first name too! At this point the pharmacist widens her eyes in shock as she stares at the pill box in her hand. She starts to stammer.)

Pharmacist: “But… um… I don’t… uhh… how?”

Me: “Um, I think those might be mine. I have the same first name and last name. Those are my birth control pills.”

Pharmacist: “Oh thank GOD! I thought I was in the twilight zone!”

Elderly Lady: “Oh dear! No wonder! No I don’t want THOSE!”

Me: “Thank you for calling [Airline]; this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, I want to book a flight from here to Los Angeles.”

Me: “Okay, what city are you departing from?”

Caller: “I want to go to Los Angeles.”

Me: “From where?”

Caller: “From here.”

Me: “What city are you in?”

Caller: “The same as you.”

Me: “I’m in Baltimore, Maryland. Is that where you are?”

Caller: “No. Can’t you tell from my phone number?”

Me: “We have no way of knowing where you’re calling from. If you tell me what city you’d like to depart from, I can look up the flights for you.”

Caller: “Well if you don’t know where I am, what good are you?” *click*

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(I work at a small but locally famous family-owned barbeque stand. I manage the front area and prepare the food for orders.)

Customer: “I am very angry! I came here from [local town that is not far away] to get some of your sausage, and you’re sold out!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry. The sausage is a specialty item because it is home made, so we will usually sell out because we are only open two days per week. We cannot make a lot of it because it won’t keep fresh through next week. It’s also 15 minutes before closing, so we are usually sold out of everything by now, but you can try our chopped pork if you would like!”

Customer: “Well, that’s stupid! Why are you only open two days a week!? That is so inconvenient for me!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. When we opened, the owner was retired and only wanted to run this for a couple of days per week. It also takes a while to prepare everything by hand.”

Customer: “What a lazy a**! Let me talk to the owner now! I want to tell him to his face that he needs to think of the customers before himself!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, our owner passed away earlier this year from leukemia. It was in the local news. He kept our hours limited because of his health. You can speak with his widow if you would like; she is in the back.”

Customer: “…I’m so sorry. Uh, I’ll just come back next week…”

(I am a student, and I babysit for money. On Mondays, I take the little boy I watch to the playground for a few hours and helicopter around him in case he hurts himself. A mother at the park approaches me.)

Mother: “You know, I just want to tell you: I see you here every Monday and I think it’s just great that you are such a hands-on young mother.”

Me: “Oh! I’m not his mother! I’m just his babysitter. But thank you anyway!”

Mother: “Sweetie, you don’t need to be embarrassed! You should embrace being a great mom, especially at such a young age. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you as a single mom in your early 20s!”

Me: “Uhm, really, I am not his mother. I am just his babysitter. But I’m flattered you think I am doing a great job caring for him!”

(The mother walks away to the sandbox area, where other mothers are sitting just within earshot.)

Mother: “You ladies will not believe this! That girl over there is trying to claim that that baby is not hers! Some people! I wonder if her parents have brainwashed her into thinking it’s their baby. There are some really crazy people out there huh?”

Related:
Ah, Mothers, Part 7
Ah, Mothers, Part 6
Ah, Mothers, Part 5
Ah, Mothers, Part 4
Ah, Mothers, Part 3

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