When I was thirteen, there was a whole day when I was in extreme pain in my stomach area. My folks were starting to worry about me, so they took me to the ER. They ran some tests and the whole lot. They ended up giving me some muscle relaxers since I was very tense.

Completely out of my control shortly after, I let out the biggest fart and felt perfect. Everyone got a big laugh about it, and I got to feel awkward as I fart in front of everyone and then just say:

Me: “Okay, I feel better now.”

My parents now refer to the incident as the $500 fart.

I overheard my coworker’s phone conversation at work:

Coworker: *Answering phone.* “[Our place of business], this is [Coworker], how may I help you?”

Pause.

Coworker: “This is [our place of business]? We’re financial advisers.”

Pause.

Coworker: “Who were you looking to speak with?”

Pause.

Coworker: “Ma’am, you called ME. We did not call you.”

Pause.

Coworker: “Ma’am, you haven’t given me your name yet. How could I have called you if I don’t even know who I’m speaking to?”

Pause.

Coworker: “I am not a scammer—YOU called US.”

The lady hangs up.

The phone rings again! 

It’s her again. She’s still insisting that we called her.

Customer: “So when can I expect my order to arrive?”

Me: “Well, the ship is scheduled to arrive at port in about a week. It’s hard to say when your containers will be unloaded, so probably another two or three days. Once the load is secured by the carrier, it will be delivered to you the next day.”

Customer: “That’s no good, I need those containers here tomorrow.”

Me: Sir, your containers are on a boat floating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean as we speak. I don’t like to use this word very often, but that’s impossible.”

Customer: “Well… tell them to sail faster!” *Click.*

CORRECTION: A typo has been corrected.

I work at a restaurant that serves food from all parts of the world on a rotating, seasonal menu.

Customer: “Hey, you’re Mexican, right? What’s more filling, the tacos or the burrito?”

Me: “I was born in the United States, but my heritage is Colombian.”

Customer: “What part of Mexico is that?”

Me: “Colombian is not Mexican. It is Colombia.”

Customer: “Where is that?”

Since we serve food from all over the world, there is a large world map on the wall, and this table happens to be close to it. I walk six feet toward the map and point out Colombia.

Me: “There, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, so it’s still one of the Mexican countries.”

Me: “Mexico is its own country, sir.”

Customer: “Look, you all speak Mexican down there, so you’re all Mexican countries.”

Blink and a pause.

Me: “The burrito is more filling, sir.”

A mother is ordering at the counter with her three sons, all of whom look under ten.

Mother: “Three Burger Happy Meals, please.”

Me: “Is that with the fries or apple slices?”

Mother: “Apple slices for all three, please.”

As soon as she says this, the oldest boy bursts out laughing, like a full-on belly laugh, holding his sides. The middle boy joins in a couple of seconds later, and the last boy joins in quickly after. 

The mother smiles at them and then looks back at me.

Mother: “Yeah, who am I kidding? Fries all round, please. Nothing but grease in this family! I think the last time these boys ate a vegetable was the mushroom on a pizza by accident.”

Me: “Technically, mushrooms aren’t a vegetable, also our happy meal burgers contain pickles and onions, and those are vegetables.”

Mother: “My boys don’t eat those.”

Me: “Oh, did you want to order the burger with those removed?”

Mother: “No, keep ’em on.” *She holds up a little Ziploc bag.* “I store them for punishments.” *She also holds up another Ziploc containing slices of burger cheese.* “And these as rewards!”

They seemed like a fun and friendly family, but I kinda weep for their arteries.