(I work for a local farm that raises pastured meat to sell frozen at farmer’s markets. We also offer a CSA membership program. Members get a custom basket each month. Because they’re paying for a premium product, we try to be flexible with requests and changes. One customer consistently takes this a little too far, popping in at markets to pass along her latest specifications. My boss, the farm’s co-owner, recounts the latest episode to me…)

Customer: “I need to talk about my CSA.”

Owner: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “I don’t want chickens where the legs are put straight like this–” *motions for two parallel lines sticking up, how the legs roughly sit on a standard packaged small whole chicken*

Owner: “May I ask why you weren’t happy with the other birds?”

Customer: “Chickens like that take too long to cook. I always cook a chicken for thirty-five minutes, but I cooked those chickens for two hours and they still were not done! I don’t want any more with the legs like that.”

(We have already had chickens specially processed at a smaller weight for her, a long compromise after she was displeased with several other products.)

Owner: “Are you sure the legs are what’s causing the problem? We could look but—”

Customer: “No, no, no more chickens with the legs like that. Thank you!”

(She quickly walked away from our stand. That is how we later found ourselves staring at frozen poultry, trying to determine how else one can direct a butcher to package an exceptionally scrawny chicken, and in what world leg positioning affects cooking time. Her CSA basket is too large to risk losing.)

(I work as a cashier in Connecticut. Part of our job is to bag the purchase as we ring the items up. As usual, I bag up a middle-aged woman’s items and spin the turntable towards her so I can work on the next bag. Her eyes widen in awe.)

Customer: “Whoa… and you can take it off?”

Me: “Yes? You can take your bag whenever you’re ready.”

Customer: “And it spins?! That’s just so cool! I’m visiting from New Jersey and we don’t have these over there! It’s so handy; you can fill bags and spin them around and take them. That’s so cool! Everything is so different here; it’s like a whole different world.”

(She suddenly looks like she’s realized something.)

Customer: “I’m finally going to have to learn how to pump my own gas.”

(The rest of the transaction went normally, but I was in shock that this middle-aged woman had never seen a bagging turner before.)

(My cousin is Chinese-American and a single child, and has recently announced his engagement to a divorced white American with three girls. She kept her ex’s name to match her kids. My aunt and uncle aren’t very pleased that my cousin will have three step-daughters right off the bat, because that could deter them from more children, especially a boy.)

Fiancée: *hands my aunt and uncle an item that includes her maiden name*

Aunt: “‘Bell’ is your name?”

Fiancée: “Yes, it’s my maiden name.”

Aunt: *drags [Uncle] aside for a bit, then they smile and return*

Uncle: “Your name is Bell! I think our son chose you on his first birthday!”

(My aunt and uncle then proceeded to explain that in Chinese tradition there is a fortune-telling ceremony where objects are placed down for the baby to pick. They didn’t use the traditional set of items, and one of them was a bell. It was supposed to represent growing up to become a shop owner, because that was the bell my aunt and uncle used in theirs. Apparently it decided to come true in another way.)

(I’m helping an older lady out with her garage sale. She knows my parents and has just asked why I have such a great interest in Ireland.)

Me: “Oh, it’s got a lot to do with the history. Michael Collins—”

Older Lady: “Michael Collins?!”

Me: “Yes, he was—”

Older Lady: “My son wrote a book with Michael Collins! I’ll have to show it to you! Oh, you’re right; he’s just the nicest man.”

Me: “Um, no, I meant—”

Older Lady: “He visited the college here once. I saw his picture in the newspaper. It said, ‘Michael Collins visiting with other students from Ireland,’ so I thought I’d surprise my son! I called up the college to see if they had his number, but they wouldn’t give it to me. They said he was a student. But he wrote a book with my son!”

Me: “Um… ah… You know, there’s more than one, uh, Michael Collins.”

Older Lady: “REALLY?”

(After she walked away, I leaned over and said to my mother, “Let’s not mention a Michael Collins was one of the guys on the moon, too.” Mom says that to this day, she can’t get this lady to understand that more than one person has this incredibly common name.)

(I am working front desk at a hotel on a relatively busy Sunday night. I have already had a couple of walk-ins, and this older gentleman comes in asking about room availability for the night. I give him rates, and he decides to stay, so I am inputting his information and making small talk. Note that I am in my twenties, but some people mistake me for a teenager.)

Guest: “Are you from here?”

Me: “Yeah, I grew up here.”

Guest: “It’s a nice place. Do you get a lot of tourism?”

Me: “We get some, depending on the season. When [Big Festival] was still in town the whole town got very full for about a week, but since they moved the festival, it’s been a little quieter in the summers.”

(I’m finishing the check-in process at this point, handing the guest his keys, etc.)

Guest: “And are you happy here?”

Me: *a little confused* “Yes, it’s a good place to be.”

Guest: “Aw, too bad. We were thinking of adopting you! But if you’re happy here—”

(I laughed politely — and awkwardly — as the guest went to get his wife and head to their room. I still don’t quite know what that was about, or how old he thought I was! I’m used to guests saying funny things, but this was the strangest one I’ve heard in a while.)