(I work in the computer lab as a clerk. One evening, a women comes in wearing what I assume is a summer dress. It’s summer and we often get people in who wear risque clothing.)

Coworker: “Is she wearing a sheet?”

Me: “No, I think it’s a summer dress.”

(My coworker shrugs and goes back to work. The lady stands up and comes over to my desk for help. I take a look at her dress, and realize that it is in fact a sheet, cut away in some places and tied in others.)

Me: “She is wearing a sheet!”

Coworker: “I’ll call the manager.”

(They do, and the manager comes over.)

Manager: “You guys, that is clearly a summer dress.”

Coworker: “Wait for it.”

Me: “Let’s call her over just to make sure.”

(It turns out, we don’t have to call her over. She comes up to the desk again to ask for help. My coworker goes over and helps her while my manager and I try to figure out what to do.)

Manager: “Okay, that’s definitely a sheet.”

Me: “Is there anything we can do?”

Manager: “Well, she is wearing clothing, and it covers her all up… I’m going to say no, although it’s really inappropriate. Just imagine if it came untied. It doesn’t look like she’s wearing any type of material under it.”

(As my manager is leaving the top half of the lady’s “dress” comes untied.)

Customer: “Can you tie me back up? I seemed to have popped out. Don’t want my boobies popping out.”

Me: “Uh…”

Coworker: *silent*

Me: “I… uh… guess.”

Customer: “Thanks. I made this, you know.”

Me: “No kidding?”

Customer: “I can make you one, too.”

Me: “Uh… no thanks.”

(I’m having some trouble tying the two ends that hold in her breasts.)

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t think I can tie it.”

Customer: “Oh, just pull it hard. It’ll go together.”

(I barely managed tie her back up, and she left after that, praising me for saving the day.)

(My aunt has always been a pretty terrible person, and my interactions with her have been for the sole sake of keeping the peace, because my grandmother loves her, even more than her other two daughters. One year, my aunt goes on one of her crazy sprees during her pretty nasty divorce and ends up accusing everyone in the family of siding with her husband while she “did no wrong” – they were divorcing because he learned she was cheating on him with her diving instructor – and kicks several people off her Facebook page, including me. I have blocked her for good measure and gone about my business. One day, about three years later, I receive a friend request from my aunt. She has deleted her old page and made a new one, and is trying to add most of the people she had kicked off the old one. I ignore it, and block this page, too. The next day, I am at home with my grandmother, who I live with at the time to take care of her, and my aunt is there.)

Aunt: “Oh! [My Name]! There you are! I need to talk to you!”

Me: “What about?”

Aunt: *acting offended* “I sent you a friend’s request on Facebook last night, and you ignored it! How am I supposed to keep in contact with you? That hurt me so badly!”

Grandmother: “[My Name], add her on Facebook! You are being rude!”

Me: “But I have you on Facebook, [Aunt]. I mean, unless you kicked me off, I’m still there; I would never do something that rude. I figured it was a spoof account trying to get personal information or something.”

(She never bothered me about adding her as a friend again.)

(I’m working as a cashier on a busy Friday when I hear my coworker take a phone call from a guest who is calling about an online order that supposedly should have shown up.)

Coworker: “…yes, ma’am, of course. Let me check real quick. No, it doesn’t look like we’ve received an iPhone 8 for anyone today.”

Me: “The iPhone 8 hasn’t even come out yet, [Coworker]. There’s no way she ordered one.”

(My coworker told her this, and then told me that the lady claimed to have ordered it that morning and that it was definitely an iPhone 8 that was supposed to have magically arrived the day she ordered it. She then called back three times and demanded to speak to a manager, who told her the same thing and hung up.)

(When my father was in the Air Force, he would stop by the same liquor store every Friday night to buy a bottle of booze. After two years of this, he had the following conversation.)

Dad: “Give me a bottle of the good stuff! I’m celebrating.”

Clerk: “What are you celebrating?”

Dad: “I just turned twenty-one!”

(My husband is untraditional in his romantic gestures and it suits our whimsical natures quite well. One of the sweetest sentiments he has ever written to me is, “Every day… you surprise and delight me. Every. Single. Day.” One Saturday, we are both in moods and stressed and grumpy and sniping at each other all day. This evening, he sits heavily down on a dining room chair and sighs. I go over and sit on his lap and put my arms around him. We sit there hugging for a while and he finally says:)

Husband: “I remember this. I like this.”

Me: *in a dismayed tone* “I did not do anything to delight you today!”

(Before he can respond, I reach around him and turn off the dining room light.)

Me: “There, now you are de-lighted!”

(We ended up in a tangle on the floor because he was laughing so hard he fell off the chair.)

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