(I always forget to put the butter away after making my toast, and my parents (usually my dad) always remind me to. They stress how when I’m out on my own, I won’t have anyone to remind me. Furthermore, they always tell me not to leave any food under the stove lights. On this particular morning, I remembered and am just putting the lid back on the butter when my dad walks in.)

Dad: “Hey, don’t put it away! I need to use it.”

Me: “Okay…I was just putting the lid on it, since you guys are always reminding me.”

(I leave the kitchen as Dad starts to use the butter on his toast. I come back to the kitchen a couple hours later. The butter has been left on the counter, under the stove lights, almost completely melted.)

Me: *facepalm*

(A customer comes to me with two giant bags of dog food. I ring them through.)

Customer: “You must think I have a bunch of dogs, huh?”

Me: “Um, yeah. Sure.”

Customer: “Nope! The in-laws are in town!”

(I overhear the following conversation as I’m stocking crafts; it’s a forty-something mother and her teenage daughter.)

Mother: “… okay, we need beads.”

Daughter: “Just make it fast.”

Mother: “Don’t take that attitude with me.”

Daughter: “I don’t know why I go anywhere with you!”

Mother: “Oh, look! Gift boxes! With Rudolph on them!”

Daughter: “Mom, be quiet. Just shut up… please.”

Mother: “Look! Rudolph! You see Rudolph?”

Daughter: “Mom, shut up! Can we leave?”

Mother: “It’s just so godd**n a** f**king cute!”

Daughter: *rolls her eyes and stomps off*

(The child I’m working with is crying, so I go outside to talk to the mother.)

Me: “Your child seems to have some separation anxiety, ma’am. It’s against the rules, but I could let you stay and watch her work so she’ll feel better.”

Mother: “Oh, I think she’ll be fine after a while. See, she’s been upset since we moved here from Chicago.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s difficult for a child sometimes.”

Mother: “But don’t tell her we moved, okay? We told her we were only going on a vacation. She has no idea we’re not going back.”

(I’m putting a bridal set on a mannequin. The bottom has a train on it and a little girl is pulling on it.)

Me: “Please don’t pull on that.”

Mother: “Oh, she’s fine.”

Me: “If she rips it, you have to pay for it.”

Mother: *bellowing at daughter* “DON’T TOUCH THAT!”