(My husband and I often visit a nearby convenience store that opened recently. Aside from being a gas station primarily, it also has a deli/food area with touch screens for ordering fresh-made food. We’re perusing the options when we see something new…)

Me: “Hey, pretzels! And pretzel bites!” *I tap on it and it gives more options* “This says ‘salt,’ and this one says ‘no salt.’”

Husband: “Can you tap them both?” *does so* “You can! It’s a salt/no salt pretzel.”

Me: *laughing* “I wonder what they’d do for that?”

Husband: “So, do you want a salt/no salt pretzel?”

(Turned out that if you don’t select either option, it came with no salt, so adding the “no salt” option to the screen was a little redundant. Now, every time we order a pretzel there, we make a joke about the salt/no salt options.)

(I am studying in the middle of the night for a history test. After a bit when I get hungry and decide to make popcorn. The popcorn pops.)

Mom: “My name?”

Me: “Ya?”

Mom: “Are you shaking the toaster?”

Me: “What? No, I’m making popcorn.”

Mom: “Oh, okay.”

Me: *to self* “Do we even have a toaster?”

(Weird part is that made sense to her for me to shake a toaster in the middle of the night.)

(I’m working the graveyard shift at our dispatch center, answering 911 calls from the public. Usually this is the time when we receive our most interesting callers.)

Caller: “I’d like to speak the head honcho, you know? Who is ever in charge of the… uh… department or police or whatever?”

Me: *thinking he wants to speak to a supervisor to make a complaint* “What is this in regards to?”

Caller: “About a job. How to get one with the police.”

Me: “…I’m sorry?”

Caller: “I’m asking about how to get a job there.”

Me: “You’re asking about getting a job… on an emergency line?”

Caller: “Yes, I think I’m really good at what I’m doing now. I could help out, work as… uh… what’s it called… for an undercover cop. That’s what I mean. I could work as an undercover cop. How can I get a job doing that?”

(Just to make sure he’s not doing anything that could endanger himself or the public, I decide to continue and ask questions.)

Me: “And what is it that you’re exactly doing right now?”

Caller: “I’ve been noticing a lot of crime and drug sales in the area. At my home and at [Major Intersection on East side of town.] I play a lot of Call of Duty and I know what I’m doing. I’m just watching all the activity around me. I think I could be a real help. I just have this one little thing in court that I need to take care of, but other than that, I don’t have anything else. I’m clean.”

(At this point, I’m too flabbergasted to be my usual stern self when someone abuses the 911 system. I remain patiently polite, already imagining telling this story later.)

Me: “Okay… well… you will need to go to the town’s website and look for any job openings for the police department. I think they’re hiring officers now, so go take a look. Just don’t call 911 asking for a job here. And if you do see anything drug deals or anything like that going on, don’t confront the people, just give us a call and let us know.”

Caller: “Yeah, yeah, of course. I won’t confront them. I’m just watching. So, just go to the town’s website?”

Me: “Yes. You can fill out an application there.”

Caller: “Thank you so much! I really think I could be a big help.” *click*

Dispatcher: *next to me* “Did someone really just call 911 for a job? Were they serious?”

Me: “I… don’t… know.”

(I am currently working in the children’s section of a large clothing store. A woman and her young son come up to me.)

Customer: “Excuse me; where are your Minecraft belts?”

(We sell a lot of Minecraft clothes for kids, but most of them are shirts and jackets. I’ve never seen a Minecraft-themed belt in any other store, let alone ours.)

Me: “Pardon me — a Minecraft BELT, you said?”

Customer: “Yes. We saw them in here just a few days ago!”

(I’m sceptical of this claim, but I decide to try to do my best with her.)

Me: “I don’t believe I’ve seen any belts like that down here recently; if we had any, they’d be over in our boy’s belt section. I can take you over there to check, if you’d like.”

Customer: “Yes. I KNOW we saw them!”

(I lead the woman over to where we keep the belts for boys. Immediately I can see that we have nothing Minecraft-themed over here.)

Customer: “Ah, see! THERE they are.”

(She immediately grabs an ordinary belt that has a camouflage pattern on it, which just so happens to use square patterns; what’s known as a “digital camouflage.”)

Customer: “See? I knew you had them!”

(I was speechless… Apparently, anything square-shaped or pixelated is “Minecraft” these days!)

(I am at a business conference. The dinner for the conference that night is at a restaurant. Because the conference is paying for drinks, they are carding at the door. I’m Mormon, and therefore don’t drink. I’m not familiar with how these types of places work — since I don’t drink, I don’t frequent them — and I do bear some responsibility for not knowing how carding procedures work. In line, I step up to him.)

Door Guy: “Do you have ID?”

Me: “I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “Doesn’t matter. The drinks are generally available in the layout, so everyone needs ID.”

Me: “Oh. I’m 25. Let me dig out my license.”

Door Guy: “You should have had it ready!”

Me: “I apologize. As I said, I don’t drink. I didn’t know you needed them for everyone.”

Door Guy: “You should have known!”

Me: “I’m sorry; I don’t drink, so I don’t know how this works.”

Door Guy: *scoffs* “Sure you don’t drink! You were hoping I’d let you through without ID because of that.”

Me: *showing him my license* “Here it is. See, I’m 25.”

Door Guy: “That’s a fake.”

Me: “No, it’s not.”

Door Guy: “Utah is the easiest state to fake their licenses. That’s a fake.”

Me: “Or I just live in Utah.”

Door Guy: “You tried to get out of showing ID, and then you give me the most faked state.”

Me: “I really am sorry that I didn’t have it ready. I didn’t know, because I don’t usually have this situation as I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “People don’t just not drink.”

Me: “It’s for religious reasons. I’m Mormon.”

Door Guy: “A likely story.”

Me: “No, really.”

(Not sure what else to do, I hold up my hand which has a CTR ring, a common Mormon jewelry. Though generally only worn by Mormons, there’s no reason that someone else couldn’t wear one. It’s a bit like a Jew wearing a Star of David. There’s no reason someone else couldn’t wear one, but there’s no reason they would. The door guy looks at my hand.)

Door Guy: “Oh, you really are. Come on in!”

(I’m still not sure why he doubted the valid ID, but wearing a ring? Proof!)