I work in a restaurant that has a bakery section. We often have people come in to eat and then order one of our specialty pies to take home with them, but some people simply come in to order pies directly. A lady walks in and heads right to the bakery counter.

Customer: *Without even a hello* “How good are your pies?”

Me: “They are very good. We have apple—”

Customer: *Cutting me off* “Yes, but how good are they?”

Me: *Thinking she is worried about freshness* “They are made fresh each morning and then as needed throughout the day. We just—”

Customer: *Letting out a big, loud sigh* “Yes, but how good are they?”

Me: “Very good. We have several five-star reviews about—”

Customer: *With an identical big, loud sigh* “But how good are they?”

I am getting fed up with trying to play guessing games with her and with getting interrupted.

Me: “On what scale, ma’am?”

This apparently breaks her out of her mental rut.

Customer: “Huh? What? I just want to know which pies are good.”

Me: “Our apple pies are excellent, and they are my favorite, but I still don’t know what you mean by ‘good,’ given that quality, freshness, and good reviews apparently don’t cut it.”

She just stared at me for a bit before making a big production about sighing, shaking her head sadly, and then turning to walk out the door. I still have no idea what type of answer she was expecting.

I dated a woman for a little over a year when I was twenty-five to twenty-six. She was funded by her family in China but she preferred to take whatever work she could find to give herself some extra cash. One of those odd jobs she took was to house sit for someone for a week. When her time there was coming to an end, she asked me to come pick her up and help her finish her final tasks. The homeowners had a dog, some small- to medium-sized poodle mix.

Girlfriend: “We need to give [Dog] a bath before we go.”

She had never had a pet of her own, but I grew up with dogs and cats so I am well versed in typical dog behavior and care. We entered the master bedroom and I made sure to close the bedroom door. Once I went into the bathroom and started filling up the tub, the dog figured out what we were going to do so she stood with her nose pressed against the bedroom door as she wished to flee.

Once I got the tub ready, I went back out of the bathroom to figure out why my girlfriend had not brought the dog to me yet. I found her kneeling by the dog.

Girlfriend: “Come on, [Dog]. Oh, please, [Dog], it’s okay. Please, [Dog]…”

Me: “[Girlfriend], you’re not going to talk the dog into doing what you want her to do; you just have to make her do it.”

The dog seemed pretty gentle and timid so I bent down and picked her up with one arm under her chest and the other under her hips and carried her into the bathroom. She didn’t struggle as I put her in the tub and she eventually relaxed as I showed my girlfriend how to wash a dog.

When we were done, I grabbed a bath towel to dry the dog and my girlfriend angrily rebuked me.

Girlfriend: “What are you doing?! You can’t use their towels for this!”

Me: “Why not? This is what they are for.”

She was aghast and impatient with my apparent foolishness and rudeness.

Girlfriend: “No! It’s rude to use towels to clean a dog! This is not your house!”

Me: “They’ve had this dog for years; she’s obviously used to being bathed. I guarantee you that they use their towels to dry their dog every time.”

My girlfriend couldn’t be persuaded that it is normal for dog owners to dry their dogs with towels. She decided the best thing to use to dry the dog was… the blanket she’d been sleeping with. I told her that she wasn’t making sense but tried to dry the dog with the blanket. Obviously, the blanket was not designed to be the optimal moisture absorber, so it took a lot of rubbing to try and get the dog halfway dry. Her fur was still matted and damp and she started rubbing herself against the floor.

To my horror, my girlfriend beckoned the dog to the sliding glass door to put her in the backyard.

Me: “No, don’t let her out yet. Let her dry more first!”

Girlfriend: “She has to stay in the backyard when we leave.”

Me: “I know, but let’s do that last. She’s just going to roll in the dirt and get muddy.”

She didn’t listen to me and put the dog outside without another word. I watched as the dog immediately rubbed herself on the ground and got her wet fur caked in mud.

I helped my girlfriend put the blanket in the washing machine and run it, put away clean dishes, and do a few other tasks before I drove her home while contemplating the bizarre experience. It probably comes to no surprise that we broke up later; I could no longer deal with her stubbornly sticking to such strange expectations.

One day after school, I go to the local ice cream parlor with my friends and we get some milkshakes. After I finish about a quarter of mine, suddenly, I feel something hard coming through the straw. I take it out of my mouth and examine it.

It is yellow, flat, round, and hard. My only association doesn’t seem likely. None of my friends have any idea what it is, either.

I wave over the waitress.

Me: “Sorry, but I found this in my shake. Can you tell me what it is?”

The waitress’s jaw drops as she looks at it.

Waitress: “That can’t be. This looks like a round piece of a smoker’s fingernail.”

Me: “That’s what I thought, too. But I honestly can’t imagine it is.”

Waitress: “Okay. First, you’re getting a new shake, and I’ll try to find out what that is.”

She leaves with the spoon on which I put the yellow piece. It doesn’t take long until she returns, laughing.

Waitress: “I had to ask three people, but we figured it out. We use fresh fruits to make our ice cream, including fresh lemons. Sometimes the lemon kernels have some kind of skin around them that can fall off.”

Me: “So, it’s just the skin of a lemon kernel?”

My friends and I start laughing due to the mundane outcome of this mystery.

Me: “Okay, so everything is fine. I don’t need a new shake, then. Thank you for clearing that up. It just looked so weird at first.”

Waitress: “No problem. I was shocked at first, too. But my colleague already made a new shake for you; I just forgot it inside. And as there is nothing wrong with this one, you can finish it, too. Also, the owner asked me to get you into the kitchen when you’re finished so he can show you that everything is hygienic.”

Me: “Oh, there is really no need for that.”

Waitress: “Too late. Your shake is ready and the owner wants to show you everything.”

She went back inside and got me that second shake. So, I got two shakes and a tour behind the scenes that day. Thank you!

My husband works in the produce department at the local supermarket. An older gentleman approaches him carrying two organic cabbages.

Customer: “Are these all the cabbages you have?”

Husband: “Well, that’s all we have left of the organic cabbage. But we have the regular green cabbage right over here.”

He escorts the customer over to where they have plenty of cabbages.

Customer: “No, I don’t like those. They have too many leaves!”

He walked away with the organic cabbage.

I’m working in the drive-thru in a popular burger restaurant. A lady orders one of our signature burger combos and everything seems fine with paying and her order until I ask:

Me: “Would you like some ketchup?”

Customer: “No, dear, I own a color TV.”

And then she drives away.

That was a couple of years ago. I have spent a few sleepless nights since trying to figure that out!