(I work maintenance for a property management company and often carry a work phone to take after-hours maintenance calls.)

Me: “[Company] repair line, this is [My Name]; what can I do for you?”

Tenant: “Miss [My Name], you aren’t going to believe this. There’s a baby possum in my house. Can you send someone out to come to get him?! I’m scared he’s gonna come up my stairs and climb in my bed or something while I’m sleeping!”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “Unfortunately, ma’am, due to state laws, none of our pest control specialists can remove it. You’re going to have to call the Department of Fish and Game and see if they can come out and remove him.”

Tenant: “Are you sure you can’t send someone out sooner?”

Me: “I’m sure, ma’am. It would be illegal.”

Tenant: “Okay. I don’t think they’re open right now so I guess I’ll have to call them in the morning. Miss [My Name]?” 

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Tenant: “Possums can’t climb stairs, can they?”

Me: “I think you should be safe if it’s small enough.”

Tenant: “Okay. Okay, thank you, Miss [My Name].” 

(She called me the next morning to tell me the saga of how her neighbor came over and managed to herd the baby possum out of her home.)

(I am in the waiting room of a hospital waiting for a scan to check out my back injury. For the purposes of this story, let’s just say that my name is John Smith. The nurse calls me in for my scan.)

Nurse: “All right, just jump up onto the table.”

Me: “Umm… sorry, I can’t do that.”

Nurse: “We can’t do the scan if you don’t get on the table.”

Me: “But… I can barely move. How do you expect me to jump onto a table?”

Nurse: “Sure, you can.”

Me: “I don’t think you understand. I am physically unable to get up onto the table due to a back injury.”

Nurse: “You don’t have a back injury.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure I would know why I’m at the hospital.”

Nurse: “Your name is John Smith, right?”

Me: “Yes.”

Nurse: “And your date of birth is [date]?”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

(A patient in the waiting room speaks up.)

Patient: “Sorry to interrupt, but I think you might have us confused.”

Nurse: “Your name is John Smith?”

Patient: “Yep.”

Nurse: “And I suppose your date of birth is also [date].”

Patient: “Yes.”

Nurse: “And you’re here for a scan?”

Patient: “Yes, I am.”

Nurse: “Well, this is an interesting coincidence.”

(She looks down at her computer.)

Nurse: “Ah, I see the problem. There are two different people named John Smith with the same birthday, who just happened to both have appointments for a scan within the same hour. I was looking for John M. Smith.”

Patient: “That’s me!”

(The nurse apologized and I got my scan not long after. It was a confusing few minutes, but at least I got a good story out of it!)

(My brother and I share a strong family resemblance, but since I’m a woman and about six inches shorter than him, it’s pretty easy to tell who’s who. He’s picking up lunch one day when a casual acquaintance walks up.) 

Acquaintance: *sincerely* “Hey! Now that you’ve got a beard I can finally tell you and your sister apart!”

Brother: *bewildered* “I don’t know which of us should be more bothered by that.”

Related:
Oh, Brother! – Part 3
Oh, Brother! – Part 2
Oh, Brother!

(I work at a large, internationally-known retail store that sells a lot of different things. The “Back to School” season just started and I’m stocking the section when this old lady brings in her grandson to look at folders.)

Customer: “Excuse me!”

Me: “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “These folders are too close together! I don’t know which ones are the cheapest!”

Me: “Well, the paper ones would be the cheapest for fifteen cents each, ma’am. They’re right here. What colors do you need?”

Customer: “Oh, whatever! Get a job!”

(I looked down at my work uniform, looked back up at her, and just walked away.)

(We have a small shelf near the cash registers with a few candies and juice boxes and all that. One day, when I’m working at the register, a lady comes charging up to me.)

Customer: *very angry* “LETTUCE JUUUICE!” 

Me: *gives confused expression* “Sorry, ma’am, what?”

Customer: *now triggered* “LETTUCE JUICE! WHERE’S MY LETTUCE JUUUUUICCEEE?!” 

Me: *thinking she’s talking about the shelf, I point to it* “Erm, ma’am—”

Customer: *slaps my hand* “NOOOO! LETTUCE JUICE!”

(I now give up and let her keep going.)

Customer: “LETTUCE JUICE! This is ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE! I’m calling corporate!” *storms out of store*

(I’ve never actually figured what she was trying to say.)