(Living in Portland, my job has had a massive influx of people trying to get a better look at the 2017 solar eclipse. Most have come very early to avoid traffic, and many are trying to find something to do while they wait. Two days before the eclipse, I have this interaction:)

Me: “Hi, do you have [rewards card]?”

Customer: “No, we’re just in town for the week. You know, the eclipse. Do you like bouncy balls?”

Me: “Uh, sure.”

Customer: “Well, here’s a bouncy ball I had left over.” *holds up a bouncy ball*

Me: “Ah, thanks.”

Customer: “But in exchange, you have to tell me the name of the best strip club in town.”

Me: “…Uh, dunno.”

Customer: “They all that bad?”

Me: “No, that’s just not my thing.”

Customer: “So… you’re…?”

Me: “Nope. Straight.”

Customer: “…So, then—”

Me: “Here’s your receipt, sir, have a nice day.”

(Due to issues with credit card fraud, our store has been very strict about checking that customers’ signatures match what’s on their credit cards. This type of exchange happens several times a week while ringing up customers using credit cards.)

Me: “Can I look at your credit card, please?”

Customer: “Sure, here you go.”

Me: “I’m sorry, this card doesn’t have a signature on it; I can’t accept it.”

Customer: “Oh, I never sign my credit cards. If it got stolen, the thief could just copy my signature and use my card!”

Me: “But if they steal it and it’s blank, they can just sign your name in their own handwriting, making it even easier for them to use it…”

Customer: “But it won’t be my signature!”

Me: “…”

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Me: “Good morning, my name is [My Name]. Can I start with your account number please?”

Client: *gives me his account number*

Me: “And what state do you reside in?”

Client: “Well, right now I reside in a state of confusion.”

Me: “I meant what US state do you reside in, sir?”

Client: “Oh! Well, why didn’t you say that?”

(I work at a reception desk on the second floor of a civic centre, and exchanges similar to this one are all too common. A couple walk off the elevator and up to my desk.)

Woman: “Hi, where do we go for marriage licences?”

Me: “That’s up on the third floor, at the City Clerk’s desk.”

Man: “We know it’s on the third floor, where are we now?”

Me: “Well, what button did you press on the elevator?”

Man: “Two…?”

Me: “So… just up one more from here.”

Woman: “How do we get to the third floor?”

(As well as being directly across from the elevator they just left, which goes up to the fifth floor, my desk is actually situated under a large staircase leading to the third. Good luck to whoever had to walk these people through filling out forms.)

(A customer comes to the counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me, do you know who wrote Light My Fire?”

Me: “Yeah, The Doors.”

Customer: “HA! Everyone thinks that, but The Doors covered it. I need to know who did it originally.”

Me: “Um, I’m pretty sure it was The Doors.”

(He’s so sure I doubt myself, so I go and get “The Best of The Doors” from the rack and check the writing credits.)

Me: “Um, yeah, there we go, that’s The Doors on the writing credit.”

(It turned out with some quizzing he thought the comedy version by British Novelty act Mike Flowers Pops, released in 1996, was the original.)