(Our theatre has a lecture series where authors give presentations. One presenter is a Holocaust survivor. I am very surprised to see a large and stereotypical ‘biker’ come in. He has a leather vest, sleeveless shirt, tattoos, and a beard. As the holocaust survivor is presenting, two teenage boys are being very rowdy and whispering to each other.)

Boy #1: “God! When the f*** is this going to be over?”

Boy #2: “I don’t know. Can we just go now?”

(They stand up, and attempt to leave. The biker stands up, removes his sunglasses, and addresses the teens.)

Biker: “Listen here you little s***. This sweet little old lady has gone through more s*** then you ever will in your life. I advise you to sit your little punk-a** down, and pay her the respect she deserves.”

(The boys sit down, intimidated. The biker receives a round of applause and a hug from the lecturer. I refund his ticket, and offer him free entrance to all our lectures. He’s been to each and every one since.)

Teenage Customer: “Can I get a ham on wheat?”

Me: “Absolutely. Is that a six-inch or twelve-inch?”

Teenage Customer: “What’s the difference?”

Me: *speechless*

(The customer’s dad turns to his son and gives him a disgusted look.)

Customer’s Dad: “One’s bigger, a**-hole.”

(I work at a well-known retail pharmacy. One night while I’m still new on the job, I’m manning one of the cash registers.)

Woman: “Hi, where is your baking soda?”

Me: “Um, I can’t guarantee that we have baking soda, but if we do, it would be in aisle three.”

Woman: *goes off to look for it*

(Fifteen minutes later, the customer comes through my line with her baking soda.)

Me: “Oh, I see you found it! I’m glad we carry it.”

Woman: “If you hadn’t, I would have been very frustrated, and I would never have come here again!”

(I think she’s joking and laugh a bit.)

Me: “Well, I’m certainly glad you found it!”

Woman: *completely serious* “I did that to [other retail store] when they didn’t have lettuce, and they went out of business within a week!”

Me: *pause* “Um… I’m REALLY glad you found the baking soda, then.”

(It is the day after the Supreme Court ruled against DOMA and Prop 8. My same-sex partner and I have previously announced that we are getting married. My junior supervisor has a history of harassing me.)

Junior Supervisor: *yelling to all workers* “Y’all best stay prayed up! There’s a storm coming with all this abomination going on!”

Various Coworkers: “Yes, Lord! Amen!”

(The supervisor approaches me.)

Junior Supervisor: “Y’all going to California to get married? I saw they legalized that mess!”

Me: “It’s not mess, [junior supervisor].”

Junior Supervisor: “You really don’t think so?”

Me: “I surely do not.”

Junior Supervisor: “Hmm. Well, y’all going there?”

Me: “No, we’re going to Connecticut.”

Junior Supervisor: “But I thought California was closer!”

Me: “…what?”

Junior Supervisor: “Yeah! California isn’t far from Hattiesburg!”

Me: “It’s almost 3,000 miles away, [junior supervisor]…”

(A woman returns to our car wash with a scowl on her face, fifteen minutes after leaving. Note that she drives a black Beetle and it’s been 80 degrees with sunny skies for the past week.)

Me: “Hi, welcome back!”

Customer: “Yeah, I’d like to speak with your owner, please.”

Me: “He’s having a conference call right now. Is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “Yeah, my car is still dirty.”

Me: “Oh, did the mud not wash off the back?”

Customer: “There was no mud. The egg didn’t wash off the roof of my car.”

Me: “Um, someone egged your car? How long has the egg been there?”

Customer: “A week or so, but that’s not the point. It didn’t wash off!”

Me: “Ma’am, the egg is baked into your paint. It’s never going to wash off.”

Customer: “What?! It’s just a f****** egg! My car is not a god-d*** frying pan! It was some friends playing a joke… Just wash it off!”

Me: “Ma’am, the egg is baked on. You have to get it repainted. Whoever egged your car is no friend of yours.”

(The customer suddenly gets very quiet and glares at me.)

Customer: *whispers* “Who have you been talking to?”

(The customer pointed her finger at my face and began to slowly back out the door. She then sat in her car and slowly drove off… without breaking her stare.)