(I am only 19 when I start working for a large financial institution. After almost two years experience with the bank, at 21, I am still the youngest employee in the branch. I am working in the lobby with another teller who has just transferred into a branch after her position was eliminated in the back office, since she was within a year of retirement age.)

Me: *to customer waiting in line* “Hi. How are you doing today? What can I help you with?”

Customer: “I have a question about this transaction. I think I should probably wait for the other teller.”

Me: “Are you sure? I would be more than happy to help you with your transaction.”

Customer: “I think the other teller would be able to help with this. I don’t think you would know the answer. She’s been here longer so knows more than you do.”

Me: “If you would prefer to wait for [coworker], you are more than welcome to.”

(My coworker is still trying to get used to our DOS based system. I proceed to help the next four customers waiting in line. By the time the customer goes to my coworker’s window, I am just finishing up with the fifth and last customer in the line.)

Customer: “I have a question about a transaction that was on my overdraft protection account. Can you look into what happened?”

Coworker: “[My Name], how do I look that up?”

Me: “Go into [system acronym] and type in the command [more acronyms]. The account summary will be the first screen and the history is on the next.”

(The customer stares silently.)

Me: “I guess I would have been able to help you after all, sir.”

(At least he had the good sense to look a bit sheepish after that.)

(My roommate is pretty rigidly Republican, but tends to get snippy if anybody says anything bad about the candidates. My girlfriend doesn’t like to affiliate with either party, but holds very strong views on equality and the like. There’s a news report involving several influential, albeit older, Republican males on TV while the three of us are preparing dinner and they’re saying some pretty offensive things about women.)

Girlfriend: “Somebody ought to confiscate their testicles.”

Me: *trying not to laugh, and glancing at my roommate* “Hon, don’t say that.”

Roommate: “No, don’t shush her! I want to hear what the little lady has to say.”

Girlfriend: “If you want to hear what I have to say so you can try and argue with me about equality I really don’t want to hear it because as far as I’m concerned there is no valid argument against it. Absolutely zero valid arguments for inequality, unless a person is completely irrational and uneducated. Which you are not.”

Roommate: *grinning* “So… about this testicle confiscation.”

Girlfriend: “What?! It’s not like they’re using them!”

(We all started laughing and had a fairly civil conversation on the subject after that. It turned out that despite being super Republican, my roommate wasn’t a fan of his party’s ideas about women and he’d just been afraid to say so because of his family for years!)

(I’m waiting for a supermarket to open. It’s a public holiday and so the opening hours are a bit different to normal.)

Lady: “Why is it taking so long to open?”

Me: “It’s a public holiday. They open later than normal.”

Lady: “But it’s a Monday! They should be opening at regular time. I’ve been here almost an hour!”

Me: “So you’re going to work today?”

Lady: “Pfft, no, it’s a holiday. No one works on holidays.”

(I work in a department store. It is Halloween, and our best kid’s costumes are out on display. I am decorating the store with fake spiders, when an angry customer and his bratty kid comes up to me.)

Me: *looking at child tearing down bunting* “Uh, kid? I’m going to have to ask you to stop that.”

Customer: *scowls at me* “Don’t you DARE!”

Me: “Is this your child, sir?”

Customer: “Yep! He’s not going to stop for a minimum-wage weirdo!”

Me: “But, sir, he’s defacing store property! I have to ask you to replace that mannequin and the torn bunting.”

Customer’s Kid: “Shut the f*** up!”

(I pause in shock.)

Customer: “That’s it boy! We don’t be polite to serving people! They’re below us!”

Coworker: “Excuse me, sir? I’m going to have to ask you to go, or I’ll call security.”

Customer: “I’m not scared of you! I’ll bet you’re not even Christian!”

(At this point, a nearby customer who has overheard everything walks over.)

Nearby Customer: *completely calm* “No, I’m not. I do, however, have a brown belt in Brazilian Floor Ju-jitsu. Let’s step outside and discuss this, shall we? Or you can kindly replace the decorations and leave these kind people alone.”

Customer: *turns pale* “L-let’s go son. I wanna leave this devil store.” *mumbles while shoving a note into my hands* “This stuff is crap anyway.”

(The best part? The man and his kid had walked into some off-duty police officers, who found the man had stuffed a bunch of MP3 Players into his top!)

(Our company helps as an outsource development company, building games with other companies that don’t have enough manpower to complete them. These particular clients have never made a game before, have no art or gaming experience, and therefore have been incredibly difficult to work with. We have been revising a single icon for the interface for two days now, and both sides are becoming frustrated.)

Client: “It’s still MUDDY. The concept wasn’t muddy! Why do you have so much brown in there?! I can’t read any of it.”

Me: “The concept was clearer because it’s in black and white. You asked us to incorporate every color we’ve used in this so far. I don’t feel it’s muddy. We’ve reduced the only browns, the shields, down by almost 50%. I don’t understand what is reading as ‘muddy’ to you.”

Client: “The brown of everything! The brown clothes and brown hair and brown skin and brown shield—”

Me: “Wait. Are you telling me the hair and clothes read as brown to you?”

Client: “YES. I don’t understand why this is so difficult!”

Me: “The hair is bright red and the clothes are dark green. They are nowhere near brown. They are the exact colors as used by the character in the game.”

Client: “Ugh, whatever. I can’t see that! I’m COLORBLIND.”

Me: “So… let me get this straight. You are complaining about overuse of brown, when you can’t see colors properly?”

Client: “Right. Look. Just make it read better. Make the swords bigger.”

Me: “… I need a drink.”