(I’ve always been very nerdy and a lot of my friends have also been nerds, which is not always easy on our poor teachers. When I’m in middle school, my friend and I come to our science teacher to resolve something we’ve been arguing about for almost two days straight.)

Me: *walks into the classroom with my friend* “Hi, [Science Teacher].”

Science Teacher: “Hey, [My Name], hey, [Friend].”

Friend: “Can you answer a question for us?”

Science Teacher: “Sure. What’s your question?”

Me: “If you cloned yourself, would that clone be more like your sibling or your child? I think it’d be more like your child and [Friend] thinks it’d be more like a sibling.”

Science Teacher: *looks at us, clearly questioning the sanity of these two little nerd girls* “Probably sibling, since they’re still a mix of your parents’ DNA.”

Friend: “I told you!”

(I still wonder what exactly was going through his head when we asked that question.)

(Two ladies are trying to bring a tricycle and a bicycle onto the bus. The tricycle is small enough to go on the bus, but the bicycle has to be put on the bike rack attached to the front of the bus. For some reason, [Lady #2] is just not having that, so [Lady #1] decides to take matters into her hands.)

Bus Driver: “I’m sorry, but we need the space for strollers and people in wheelchairs.”

Lady #1: “So what? I just have to leave it here?”

(The bus driver ponders for a moment, but before she can respond, [Lady #1] becomes belligerent.)

Lady #1: “Unbe-f******-lievable! [Transit Organization] said I could do this! You want me to take these bikes back to [Store], huh?! Is that it?!”

Bus Driver: “Ma’am, you need to get off the bus.”

Lady #1: “Fine!” *walks off the bus* “You know what?! Tell me your bus num—”

(The bus doors shut and the bus began to leave. As we left, [Lady #1] pounded on the bus door, then banged her tricycle against the side of the bus. The best part? The bus driver told us all that she was actually going to let the ladies bring the bike on and ride the bus until they got in the way of other passengers, but [Lady #1] went belligerent before the bus driver could say yes!)

(Before closing, mall security lets our store know that a customer lost a bag containing medicine somewhere in the mall. Someone on staff finds it during recovery, two hours after close. The assistant store manager contacts mall security, who contacts the customer. He says he is “five minutes away,” so the ASM agrees to stay to give them the bag. Nearly an hour later, they haven’t shown, so the ASM turns the bag over to mall security. The next morning, I don’t know any of this when I arrive two hours before opening. I just find a man banging at the exterior entrance. He looks furious and violent and I don’t want to approach him until another member of staff comes in. Ten minutes later, someone does, and we go out through the employee entrance to talk to him. He is red-faced and yelling the whole time.)

Customer: “Finally! I’ve been out here for a half-hour and your door is locked! You have my bag.”

Me: “The door is locked because we are closed until ten. You left a bag? In lost and found, you mean? Let me check.”

Customer: “I’m coming with you.”

Me: “I’m afraid you can’t be in the store until after opening.”

Customer: “What? That’s bulls***! You have my bag! You said on the phone someone would give it to me when I got here and you left me waiting? I can sue you for this! I’m coming in with you!”

(He follows us back to the employee entrance, yelling, and tries to force his way into the store. We get the door closed and locked and I rush to call security. In the meantime, I find the letter the ASM wrote the night before. Mall security shows up and we see them give the furious man the bag and order him off the property because he threatens them. When he seems to be gone, security knocks on the door and I open it so that we can chat.)

Security: “Want to know the weird part? We peeked in his bag and all the ‘medicine’ was herbal supplements and essential oils.”

Me: “The ASM is going to be so mad he stayed an unpaid hour for that. I wonder why he… Ack!”

(The man hasn’t left the property and comes running up to us, barging by and into the store.)

Security: “Call 911!”

Customer: “No! Don’t call the police! Here, I’m going, I’m going.”

(He goes to the main entrance and tries the still locked doors.)

Customer: “I can’t get out! Help! I’m trapped! They got me trapped!”

(I was on the phone with the police when he finally backtracked out the unlocked doors and took off running across the parking lot. Now, he is banned from mall property and we are all just confused by the whole ordeal.)

(I work in a grocery store in a small town. We have an older regular customer who always comes in and stays until closing, always with a large order and several special requests. I get off early and run into her while shopping, waiting for a ride from a coworker.)

Me: “Hey, [Regular]! How are you tonight?”

Regular Customer: “Hi, [My Name]. I’m pretty good. Do you remember those danishes I got last time? They were so good! I wonder if I have time to find them. Probably not.”

Me: “I can go look for them for you. I have time.”

(I go and find them, and then find the customer again.)

Me: “Here they are!”

Regular Customer: “Oh, good!”

(I continue to shop with her, helping her reach things off shelves and find things in the store. I agree to help her to her car when she’s done. I then split off to buy my own stuff, and I go back to the register she is at to see if she or my coworker would like any more help.)

Coworker: “Everything is on the same order, right?”

Regular Customer: “Yes, but this first part has to be separate. It goes somewhere else.”

(My coworker starts on her order, making sure to keep everything separate. I go to get a second cart and start loading the first part of her order.)

Coworker: “How many cokes do you have?”

Regular Customer: “Eight.”

(We count the cases of pop. She has seven.) 

Me: “You only have seven. This week’s coupon is four for $12. You want me to get another? They’re right in front of the check-stand.”

Regular Customer: “I have eight.” 

(We count again and we get seven again.)

Coworker: “No, you only have seven.”

Regular Customer: “That gal lied to me. [My Name], can you get me another, please? You know which one I want.”

(I get the extra Coke for her. By this point, the store has been closed for fifteen minutes and my coworkers should have clocked off by now. I notice the coworker giving me a ride is almost done.) 

Me: *to my coworker* “You can wait out back for me. I’m gonna help [Regular].”

Regular Customer: “[My Name], do you have a ride?”

Me: “Oh, [Coworker] is giving me a ride.”

Regular Customer: “Don’t you live far? I don’t want you walking. I can give you a ride.”

Me: “No, but thank you. I’m getting a ride from [Coworker].”

Regular Customer: “Are you sure? I don’t want you walking.”

Me: “No, I’m okay. But thank you.”

(My coworker helping her finishes her order. The customer doesn’t understand that she only has one order, thinking she has three, instead. She then writes three separate checks rather than one. I gather her last few things when my manager gives me the keys to the front door. By this point, the store has been closed for 25 minutes and everyone is ready to go home.)

Manager: *quietly so the customer can’t hear* “Get her out of here and lock the door when you’re done.”

(I help the customer to her car. She can’t find her keys, when they’re in her hand, and she has very specific instructions on where everything needs to go. She even counts the cases of pop again.)

Regular Customer: “I have eight. I thought I had nine.”

Me: “No. The coupon was four for $12, so you got eight. Any more would have been regular price. Remember? You had seven, so I got you another to equal eight.” 

Regular Customer: “I thought I had nine. Oh, well. I hope they charged me right.”

(It is now almost forty minutes after the store has closed and my manager comes out to get the keys from me.)

Manager: “Sorry, [My Name], but I have to lock the doors before I clock off. You’ll have to walk around the building.”

Me: “That’s okay. I’m almost done. Have a good night.”

(I finish loading the customer’s car. She insists on giving me two of the danishes she bought and a pack of chips. We normally don’t accept things like this while working, but I decide that since the customer is a regular and I’m helping her as a friend, not an employee, I can take them.) 

Regular Customer: *for what feels like the hundredth time* “[My Name], do you have a ride home?”

Me: “Yes. [Coworker] is around back. I’m gonna walk back there to meet her.”

Regular Customer: “Let me give you a ride.”

Me: “I’m fine.”

Regular Customer: “No, get in. I don’t want you out by the creeps.”

(I give in. She then insists on waiting until I get into my coworker’s car before leaving.)

Coworker: “God! That woman drives me nuts!”

Me: “Want a Danish from her?”

(My family uses a video app that allows the users to send short videos to each other. My grandma, especially, loves using it, because it allows her to send videos whenever she thinks of us, and she can rewatch videos we’ve sent when she feels lonely. I am in my car in the parking lot of my local store, having just finished watching my grandma’s latest video. I am preparing to record my own response when my car jolts with a loud crunch. I glance out the back and see that another car came into the neighboring stall at too wide of an angle and hit my side. I get out and walk around, phone in hand, just in time to see them pull away and start speeding off down the row. I quickly hit the record button and turn my phone around to capture the video of their car and license plate, stepping out to keep it in view, so I can have a record when I contact the police. Evidently, the driver sees me, because they slam to a stop and then quickly reverse back down the row, swerving close enough to risk clipping the parked cars as they do so. They roll down the passenger window as they get to me.)

Driver: *shrieking at the top of her lungs* “I DO NOT CONSENT! I DO NOT CONSENT!”

Me: “I didn’t consent to you hitting my car, and you still did!”

Driver: “TURN THAT OFF! I DO NOT CONSENT!”

(She got out of her car just as my video hit the time limit, so I started another and kept recording as she tried to run around the car to grab my phone. I dodged around my car, and we circled a bit before I managed to jump into my driver’s seat and closed the door. I’d managed to get a shot of the damage to the side of my car as we were circling, and so I finished that video and started calling the police. The lady was banging on my door and pulling at the handle while I did so, and my grandma and my mom were both sending me texts asking what the heck the videos I’d just shared were about. Long story short, the lady sped off before the police got there, I was able to give my account, and we were able to figure out how I could share the video evidence with them. I managed to calm down both my mom and my grandma, but for weeks afterward, my grandma would end all of her videos reminding us to “watch out for loonies in cars.”)