Employee: “What drink would you like?”

Me: “I’d like a lemonade, please.”

Employee: “Okay, I’ll go get it for you.”

Me: “Okay.”

(The employee disappears around the corner to get my drink. Meanwhile, a slightly overweight man with a tag reading “Manager” comes along.)

Manager: “Hi, how can I help you today?”

Me: “I’m being served already. You don’t need to serve me.”

Manager: “No.”

Me: “Sorry? No? Oh, well… um… I guess you can watch?”

(At this point, an employee comes back with a can of soda.)

Me: “Oh, no, sorry. I said lemonade.”

Employee: “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said [Soda]! I’ll go and get you another drink.”

(The employee disappears around the corner again. Meanwhile, she has left the soda on the counter.)

Manager: “This is why I’m fat!” *grabs the soda and drinks it in one big gulp* “So, what drink would you like?”

Me: “Um, I’m already being served.”

Manager: “What drink would you like?”

Me: “I’m already being served.”

Manager: “I said, what drink would you like?!”

Me: “I said, I’m already being served!”

Manager: *angrily* “WHAT DRINK WOULD YOU LIKE?!”

Me: “I am being served.”

Manager: “OH! YOU’RE BEING SERVED!”

(When the employee came back with my lemonade, the cup was disturbingly warm to the touch. Giving up, I left the restaurant, only to open up the cup later and find out it wasn’t even lemonade—it was some sort of slimy gunk.)

(The owner of the place isn’t all quite there — too much to drink some days — and hardly knows how to run a business. Every day, she calls in to check on business.)

Me: *answering the phone* “Welcome to [Store]. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Owner: *sounds hungover* “[My Name]? When did you start working?”

Me: “I’ve been here since we opened at seven am.”

Owner: “What time is it now?”

Me: “Almost 11.”

Owner: “Okay, I’ll be in around noon.”

(Noon rolls by and she doesn’t show up until around six pm.)

Owner: “Sorry, I’m late. I had to do errands.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Well, I’m almost finished cleaning up and then I’ll be leaving.”

Owner: “That’s fine.”

(The owner pulls out a bottle of rum hidden in the freezer, grabs a cake from the cooler, and then empties out the register.)

Owner: “I’m going home now. See you tomorrow.”

Me: “All right. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

(I finish cleaning up by seven pm and just before I lock up, my cellphone rings. It shows my boss on the caller ID.)

Me: “Hi, [Boss], I’m leaving now.”

Owner: “On your way home can you drop me off my bottle of rum, maybe a cake, and tell me how much money is in the drawer?”

Me: “Uh, when you stopped by earlier, you took the rum, the cake, and the money.”

Owner: “No, I didn’t!”

Me: “Yes, you did. You put your money in your pocket, and took the bottle of rum and the cake to your car.”

Owner: “I swear you stole it! I’m going to call the cops and they’ll be arriving the same time that I get there!”

Me: “I swear that you stopped by and picked up the rum, your cake, and the money from the register not even an hour ago.”

(I hear a car door open in the background, followed by a string of swears.)

Me: “I take it you found what you were looking for?”

Owner: *flustered* “You lucked out this time! I found the cake and the money, but the bottle of rum is empty and sitting on the passenger seat of my car!”

Me: “Did you drink it on your way home? I don’t think the cops would have appreciated that.”

Owner: *click*

(I closed up shop, left my key, and never returned to work after that!)

(I’ve made a call to a business and have reached the owner of the shop. I’ve given him a short description of the health and safety training we offer for his employees.)

Boss: “Health? Safety? I wouldn’t care if all my employees died today!”

Me: “Uh… okay. Thank you for your time.” *hangs up*

(I’m a waitress in a coffee shop/bakery/deli located in the middle of a small town. I walk into the dining room to see the minister from the church across the street, a police officer from the station down the block, and a lawyer from the courthouse next door sitting at the counter. I’m looking at this strange sight when my boss comes up behind me.)

Boss: “So a priest, a cop, and a lawyer walk into a bar…”

(I work at a bookstore. It’s well known at work that my voice resembles my manager’s voice.)

Me: “Good afternoon, [bookstore], this is–”

Caller: “Hey, you little vixen, when are you coming home? I’ve got a bottle of champagne–”

Me: “Um, wait, I–”

Caller: “Ooh, I’m gonna–”

Me: *turning beet red* “Nancy! Your husband is on the phone!”