(My fiancée and I are at a friend’s house. Since her outfit lacks pockets, I have her cell phone in my pocket. It starts ringing and vibrating.)

Me: “Love?” *give her a smouldering look* “I have something throbbing in my pants for you.”

(I’m visiting my partner, and walk the dog for her. The dog poops in someone’s yard. I clean it up, but the homeowner comes out and yells at me. I’m explaining this to my partner.)

Me: “So then she said, ‘I’m going to call the cops if you do that again! My yard is not a toilet! Where do you live?’ And I said, ‘Minnesota. I’m visiting my partner.’ And she said, ‘Partner? You’re a homosexual? That’s just sick and unnatural!.’ Then I walked away.”

(My partner gets up and approaches me.)

Partner: “Are you okay? Did she get up in your face?”

(I’m about to answer, when I realise it is the dog that is being spoken to.)

Partner: “Did you go poop in the bigoted lady’s yard? Good girl!”

(I am six years old, and I’m also adopted. I’m a ginger and so is my mother; however, she’s just dyed her hair platinum blonde. My mother and I are out shopping. As we go to checkout, the clerk turns to me.)

Clerk: “Oh what lovely red hair. Did you get it from your mother?”

Me: *turns to look at mom, back to the clerk, back to mom* “No, it came with me; it’s part of the package!”

(My coworker is the bossy, jealous type. We’re having an office party, and we’re allowed to bring a guest. My coworker has brought her husband, a fat old bald man. I’m by myself.)

Coworker: *proudly* “[My name], I’d like to introduce you to my husband.”

Me: “Oh hi.” *smiles politely*

(After a while, I ignore them both, continuing eating the food when my coworker sidles up to me.)

Coworker: “Don’t you think you were a little too friendly?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Coworker: *imitating me* “‘Oh hi!’ with a flirty smile like that! Sorry, but my husband is all mine. So just back off!”

Me: “That’s fine. Bald, old and fat aren’t my type!”

Coworker: *punches me hard on the arm* “How dare you! My husband is RICH, and takes care of me! More than you can say!”

Me: “So that’s why you’re working in an office?”

(I leave while my coworker sputters incoherently behind me. She continues to accuse me of having a thing for her husband until I got sick of it and found another job elsewhere.)

(I’m working the closing shift in the lumber yard, when a customer comes in just before closing with a receipt for a special order, and rushes up to one of my coworkers. It should be noted that we have two different kinds of receipts, one for orders that have been paid for but aren’t ready to be picked up, and one for orders that are ready to pick up.)

Me: *to my coworker* “Hey, you’ve been spending a lot of time with that customer. Do you need help getting them what they need so we can finish closing?”

Coworker: *shows me receipt for special order* “This is one that says they’ve paid for it, but can’t pick it up yet. I don’t know what’s happening; I’m trying to find this guy’s special order.”

Me: “You can’t load it anyway; it hasn’t been invoiced out. Did you tell him he needs to head inside, and get a different receipt?”

Coworker: “Yeah, he said he just came from there, and they just printed him this receipt. I’m calling inside the store to figure it out.”

Me: *to the customer* “Sir, when did you place this order?”

Customer: “Just now! That guy at checkout just printed that receipt. I don’t understand why you can’t load it!”

Me: “Sir, you’ve just placed a special order. That’s because we don’t carry the product normally; it has to be shipped here from the manufacturer. We can’t load it because we don’t have it.”

Customer: “Oh… that actually makes sense, sorry.”