Customer: “Do you do fancy coffee?”

Me: “Umm, you mean like cappuccino and flat white?”

Customer: “Yeah, but the one with chocolate in it?”

Me: “Hot chocolate?”

Customer: “No! The one with chocolate and coffee.”

Me: “Oh, you want a moccachino?”

Customer: “Yes, but with caramel as well. What do you call that?”

Me: “Ah, a moccachino with caramel?”

Customer: “Yes I want one of those. Wait, I might want two. Hang on.”

(She then walks to the other side of our seating area to talk to her friend. I’m not too worried by this as it’s quiet anyway.)

Customer: “No, only one of those.”

Me: “Okay, your total is $4.50.”

Customer: “Do you do those special coffees like they do in America?”

Me: “An Americano?”

Customer: “Is that the one with alcohol in it?”

Me: “Oh, no, I think you mean an Irish coffee or a liqueur coffee.”

Customer: “No, not Irish coffee, just the ones with alcohol in them?”

Me: “You mean with [Brand Irish Whiskey], or [Brand of Creamy Liqueur] in them?”

Customer: “Yeah, those ones!”

Me: “Yeah, they’re called Irish coffee or liqueur coffee. Do you want one of them as well?”

Customer: “Oh, no. Have you done my coffee and chocolate thing yet?”

(A customer comes to the desk as my colleague, to my left, informs their customer that they’ve taken a book out before.)

Customer: “I hate it when you lot tell me that.”

Me: “Oh. The computer tells us automatically and some people don’t remember what they’ve read, or don’t recognise the cover if it’s a reprint and don’t like to reread a book.”

Customer: “It’s none of your business what I read. I don’t think you should be able to see that.”

Me: *unsure if he’s joking* “Well, we see the books when you bring them to the desk anyway?”

Customer: *not listening* “Should be freedom of information or something like that…”

Me: “Well, I’ll try to remember not to tell you when you’ve taken a book out before. Did you want your other books renewed?”

Customer: “Yes, please. What ones do I have out?”

Me: *speechless*

(I take a second job working the overnight shift at a 24-hour gas station and convenience store. It is my first time ever working third shift. Around three am, while preparing coffee and pastries for the morning rush, my mind starts to wander.)

Me: *thinking to myself* “I wonder what some of these customers stories are. Like, what’s going on in your life that you wander into a gas station at three am on a Tuesday morning? It would sure be interesting to get to know some of these people.”

(Then, just as I turn around and face the front of the store, a rusted out, windowless van pulls up to the gas pumps. What appears to be a little old lady climbs out and approaches the store. As this person gets closer, it becomes clear that this is no lady. This is a man, with full beard (in other words, not even trying to fool anyone) in a thrift store dress, sensible ladies shoes, white gloves, and your grandma’s purse draped over his arm.)

Me: “May I help you?”

Customer: *in the sweetest little old lady voice* “Just a coffee, regular, please.”

(He was very polite. I didn’t get the sense that this was some sort of prank or anything. Just seemed like that’s what he’s into. I’m not bigoted in any way and support all kinds of lifestyles, but remembering what I was thinking just before he walked in, I now thought “I REALLY want to know this dude’s story!”)

(A customer came in an hour ago with a friend. She ordered a coffee and has let it sit the entire time without drinking it. She comes to the counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me, but the coffee you made me is cold!”

Me: “I did make it an hour ago. It’s had time to cool.”

Customer: “That’s stupid. Hot drinks don’t get cold!”

Me: “I’m pretty sure they do.”

Customer: “No, they don’t. That breaks physics! Make it again, please. To go!”

(I made it again while she berated and educated me on “Newton’s Second Law of Special Relativity.” I want to believe she was joking, but I honestly don’t know.)

(I work in the hardware department. This means mostly screws, nuts, and bolts. An older woman come in.)

Customer: “I need a screw that I can bend to hang up a line from.”

Me: “What is the line for?”

Customer: “I want to hang a line to dry some clothes.”

Me: “In that case I can suggest a screw hook.” *I show it to her*

Customer: “No. That’s not what I want.”

(After showing her as many possible screws as I can think of, she gets quite mad.)

Customer: ” NO, I want a screw that you hammer in!”

(Pause.)

Me: “Do you want a nail?”

Customer: *looks me up and down and then says with disgust* “Well, if that’s what you call it!”