(I’m getting prepped for a routine surgery and the nurse is asking the usual questions: “Do you drink, smoke, etc.” It’s all going well until this…)

Nurse: “We need to do a pregnancy test, or you can sign a waver if you think you’re not pregnant.”

Me: “Um… I’m not pregnant.”

Nurse: “Well, we either need to do the test or you can sign the waver.”

Me: “Oh, fine. I’ll sign the waver.”

Nurse: “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

Me: “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Nurse: “So you’re sure?”

Me: “I have no sex life.”

Nurse: “Well, you either need to do the pregnancy test or sign the waver.”

Me: “Look, I’m on birth control for endometriosis. I’m not pregnant. Give me the waver.”

Nurse: “Are you sure you’re not pregnant? We need to do the test.”

Me: “I. Am. On. Birth. Control.”

Nurse: “So you’ll do the test?”

Me: “NO! I’m not pregnant, unless I’m carrying the Son of God! I’m the Virgin Mary!”

Nurse: “So… you’ll take the test?”

Me: “Give me the waver. ”

Nurse: *hands me the paper reluctantly* “All right, but if you’re pregnant and something happens, I did warn you!”

(Being a big military town, it is fairly common to have women come into our bridal store to shop for military events like the yearly ball. A customer comes in with her husband.)

Customer: “I just had a baby and my body hasn’t quite bounced back yet.”

Husband: *rolls eyes* “Hun, you look great. Really. Please stop saying that.”

Customer: *ignoring husband* “But it is the annual ball, so I need to look nice. I was thinking of something in black, since black is slimming, but I’m not sure of my size at this point because of the baby.”

Me: “I would be happy to measure you but you look to be about a size 10. What did you have in mind for style?”

Customer: “Probably something very simple.”

(The customer walks through the non-bridal section with me to look over the styles and proceeds to pick every dress with NO shape she finds.)

Me: “Are you sure you don’t want to try on something with a little more shape to it? You have a better figure than you let on.”

Husband: “Yes. PLEASE!”

Customer: “No. These are fine. I mean, I really need to work out and flatten this pooch down.” *grabs stomach*

(The customer has literally grimaced at everything she has tried on, not liking anything. Her husband has tried desperately to explain how beautiful she is, while fidgeting in an armchair next to the fitting area.)

Me: *sigh* “Okay. Let me see what else we have.”

Customer: “Thanks. I know there’s only so much you can do.”

Me: *coming up with a plan* “Oh! We just got this dress in a couple days ago and I haven’t gotten to see it on anyone. Would you mind so much just trying it on and humoring me?”

(The dress is a mermaid cut halter dress, VERY Marilyn Monroe but floor length. Perfect for a woman with real curves.)

Customer: “Ooh, um, sure.”

(The customer smiles awkwardly, clearly not wanting to be rude and say ‘no.’ As she goes into the fitting room I look at her husband, wink, and smile. The customer walks out of the fitting room looking drop-dead 50s-goddess gorgeous.)

Customer: “I don’t kn—”

Husband: *knocks over chair jumping up* “THIS ONE! WE’LL TAKE THIS ONE!” *under his breath* “…and after the ball we can make a sibling for the baby.”

(A customer comes up to the register with nothing but a coupon.)

Customer: “Can I use this? It says $15.”

Me: “Yes, that will get you $15 off anything in the store.”

Customer: “Okay. I want to use it.”

Me: “No problem. Just go ahead and shop around for whatever you’d like, and then I’ll apply the coupon when you check out.”

Customer: “It says fifteen dollars. I can get fifteen dollars?”

Me: “This is a coupon, so the fifteen dollars will be deducted from the price of whatever you purchase.”

Customer: “Fifteen dollars?”

Me: “Yes sir, all you have to do is go pick out what you’d like.”

Customer: “I want fifteen dollars.”

Me: “I understand, but to get the fifteen dollars off, you must purchase something here.”

Customer: *blank stare*

Me: “Do you have an idea of what you were looking for? I can direct you to the right section.”

Customer: “Fifteen… dollars?”

Me: “Yes. Fifteen dollars.”

(The customer turns around and slowly wanders out of the store.)

This story is part of the Customers-Not-Quite-Getting-It roundup!

Read the next roundup story!

Read the roundup!

(My store is right beside a dollar store, so we tend to pop in to buy snacks and drinks on down times. Our shirts are pale blue and we wear tan aprons over them, while the dollar store workers wear black shirts with yellow name-tags, so it’d be very hard to confuse our workers for theirs. It’s been a strenuous day, so I offer to get everyone sodas and rush next door. My arms are full by the time I get to the register.)

Old Lady: *grabs my arm hard and jerks me* “Girl! Girl, I need you to help me! You see that box of ornaments?”

Me: *spilling the bottles of soda on my feet and pants* “Ow! Ma’am, don’t do that! That’s painful. Besides, I can’t help you. I’m on break from next door, so I can’t help you.”

Old Lady: “You can have your break later. I need you to get me that box of Christmas decorations off the top shelf. Hurry your butt up. I’m late enough as it is.”

Me: *pointing to my shirt* “I don’t work here, ma’am. I work next door. I couldn’t help you even if I wanted.”

Old Lady: “Don’t you sass me. I said for you to do your job and get me that box of decorations. Are all the kids nowadays lazy? Hurry up before I call your manager up here.”

Me: “I. Do. Not. Work. Here.”

Old Lady: *smacks me hard on the arm* “Did I ask you to say something? I said get me that box right now before I get your manager over here! Doing your job doesn’t require talking.”

Me: “Listen, lady! I do not work here. You just made me drop seven bottles of soda on my feet, which are already aching from helping idiots like you who don’t have the decency to even listen when they’re being told something. I do not work here. If you want some help, get an employee here, and leave me alone!”

Old Lady: *swats at me harder* “As soon as I find your manager, you’re going to be out of a job!”

(She goes off ranting while I pick up the sodas, a couple having popped open. A few minutes later a manager approaches me.)

Manager: “Um, apparently, I’m supposed to fire you. How about this instead? You and the folks next door get a round of free sodas on us and a hearty apology that my employee at the register didn’t set her straight. We told her we won’t be serving her if she’s going to strike the customers.”

Me: “Works for me. I hope she comes next door so I can refuse her any service there, too.”

(I work at a gift shop in Canada, just beside the US border, so we usually have a lot of American tourists. Our gift shop is one of the only places in the area that lets a customer perform their transactions in US currency.)

Customer: “Do you take real money?”

Me: *confused* “What do you mean?”

Customer: “Real money!”

(The customer holds up US currency.)

Me: “Oh, yes, we take Canadian or American, and we’ll give you American change back if we have some in the till.”

Customer: “Good. You people here are weird about your money.”