(While we’re at the mall, I sit down at a table to take a break while my wife wanders off to look in [National Candle Store Chain]. When she comes back, she is grinning and can barely contain her laughter.)

Me: “What are you laughing at?”

Wife: “Well, I saw a post on the Internet about a specific candle scent. Apparently, someone claimed it smelled like the perfect man. The post has a lot of replies with variations on the theme of, ‘I went and smelled it, and you were right; it is the scent of the perfect man!’ So, I was curious and had to go smell it myself.”

Me: “And? What did it smell like?”

Wife: “You!”

Me: *confused* “What?”

Wife: “It is the same scent as your body wash!”

(I don’t mean to brag, but… I have multiple people on the Internet claiming that I’m the perfect man. I still tease my wife about this.)

[I have a German Shepherd who comes to work with me, who is great with people and always receives lots of compliments. Sometimes the conversations get weird…]

Patient: German Shepherds are my mom’s favorite dog! That’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen!

Me: Actually, she’s –

Patient: She’s enormous!

Me: Well, as it happens –

Patient: I didn’t even know they came that big!

Me: Actually, she’s the smaller end of average for her breed.

Patient: …..so they’re normally bigger?

Me: Yes.

Patient’s father: You’ve never even seen a German Shepherd. Just stop talking.

Me: Thank you for calling …….how may i help you?

Customer: We just drove thru and got (x,y,z) but we didnt get our second fry.

Me: Im sorry maam. There must have been a miscommunication at the window. When i clarified your order I had the burger and then the drink. We did not ring you up for a combo which is why you did not receive your fries. Im sorry, i can replace those fries for you on your next visit.

Customer: Im already home now. So that does no good

Me: im very sorry.

Customer: Sorry doesnt do anything. Guess ill just have to take this survey on your receipt here. *Click* (Customer hung up).

(I’m wiping down tables and cleaning the lobby. My coworker is African American and very tall. He’s working the registers. I’m short and about eight months pregnant, and I look high-school age.)

Customer: “Sir, can you get someone to help me? I don’t trust you with my order.”

Coworker: “Ma’am, I can take your order.”

Customer: “No, you can’t. Your ‘kind’ rarely have a high school education. You’ll steal my identity!”

Coworker: *sigh* “[My Name], can you come handle this transaction?”

Me: “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I will not have a high school dropout whore handle my information, either! Get me someone else!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not in high school, and I’m quite happily married. How may I help you?”

(She ignores me and looks around, seeing my manager in the back. My manager is Hispanic, transgender from male to female, and from the back she doesn’t look like it with her gorgeous long hair.)

Customer: “Get me your manager! That manager right there! She should be able to help me! She obviously has her life together!”

Manager: *in an obviously male voice* “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Abominations! Abominations, all of you! Get me your highest manager, right now! I demand I have a decent person who can take my order!”

(My GM has seen everything on the security monitors, and my manager goes and explains everything to him.)

Manager: “Ma’am, he’ll be out shortly.”

General Manager: *with a “gay” accent* “How can I help you, darling?”

Customer: *running out, pushing me over in the process* “Abominations! Every one of you! Abominations!”

(I went into premature labor, thanks to her, and had a healthy baby girl! I found out later that the same woman was arrested the same day in my fast food restaurant; she came in while my GM was giving the police officers her information for attacking me.)

(I work in a kitchen and bath showroom. Our computer systems are a bit old school but work fine. Because they are old, I have to manually enter cards. Most people aren’t phased by this at all. Some people… don’t get it.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, that will be $160.45. You are putting half down for the deposit, so let’s do an even $80. Will that be check or card?”

Customer: “Card. But where do I swipe? All you have is the signature pad!”

Me: “I have to manually enter the card. Just hand it over.”

Customer: “I don’t understand. Do I swipe on the signature pad? I don’t see a spot…”

Me: “Hand the card to me. I have to type it into the system.” *gesturing towards the screen that is set up for entering cards*

Customer: “Is it a tap machine? My card doesn’t do the tap. I have to swipe it or use the chip.”

Me: “I enter it myself. I put the number in. I put all the information in. If you would hand me your card, I will type in the number, security code, zip, and your name. Once I enter it, I will charge your card.”

Customer: “Your coworker doesn’t have a machine, either. How do I pay?”

Me: “Hand me the card.”

(The customer finally hands me her card, and she seems baffled when I enter it and complete the payment.)

Customer: *trying to sign on the signature pad* “This isn’t working, either!”

Me: “Oh, the system doesn’t allow for signatures until the product arrives and the rest of the payment is received. Since we have to order and this was just a deposit, you don’t sign.”

Customer: “I don’t understand why it isn’t lighting up. Is it broken?”

Me: “You don’t have to sign. Not until your order gets here.”

Customer: “Where am I supposed to sign if your pad is broken?”

Me: “You don’t have to sign.”

Customer: “Oh. See you when my order gets here!”

(Yeah. Can’t wait.)