My (now ex) boyfriend and I pull into a drive-thru to grab some lunch. He places my order at the speaker and then orders his own food.

Boyfriend: “Oh, I have a coupon for a dollar off the nachos, but I left it at home. Can I still use it?”

Employee: “No, sir, you need to have the coupon with you.”

Boyfriend: “Forget it then, just cancel it.”

He then peels out of the drive-thru. I can barely hear the employee through the speaker asking if he means just cancel the one item or the whole order as he races away.

Boyfriend: “That was stupid!”

Me: “Agreed. Why on earth would you ask to use a coupon you don’t have on you? You used to work in retail. You should know better.”

Boyfriend: “No, I meant he was stupid. He should have just given me the dollar off. What’s the big deal?”

Me: “Look, your house is only a mile away. Let’s just go grab the coupon and come back and get our food.”

Boyfriend: “I don’t actually have a coupon; I just said that to get a break on the price. I do it all the time. Normally they don’t care and just do it.”

And that is one of the (many) reasons he is now my ex!

Related:
The Couponator 54: Fanta Flour Power
The Couponator 53: Binder Of Fury
The Couponator 52: The District Doppelgänger
The Couponator 51: Dawn Of A New Stupider Age
The Couponator 50: Endgame

I’m a manager at a Dairy Queen. Twice a month, for the past half a year, I’ve had the same guy come in and buy an ice cream cake; my workers or I always ask the same question we’re required to, and we always get the same answer.

Worker: “Do you want anything written on it?”

Guy: “No, just the cake is fine. Lost a bet with my girlfriend.”

For whatever reason, my workers have come to the conclusion that this guy is single and just wants an excuse to have an ice cream cake, and often crack jokes about it while he’s on his way out.

Today, a girl comes in that none of us have seen before. Without even stopping to glance at the menu, she picks out an ice cream cake.

Me: “Do you want anything written on it?”

Girl: “The cake’s good as it is, thanks. I lost a bet with my boyfriend.”

I ring her up, she leaves with the cake, and I turn around to find my workers with their jaws on the floor, apparently stupefied at the fact that the cake-glutton they’ve been mocking does, in fact, have a girlfriend and regular wagers.

They spent the rest of the day pitying the poor guy who has been shelling out for ice cream cake twice a month just because his luck is that bad, rather than because of his own wants.

I was once at one of those Hibachi restaurants, and at this one they give you free ice cream on your birthday. I didn’t want mine, so I gave it to my grandparents. When I was recounting the story of my “birthday ice cream” to my boyfriend, I accidentally said:

Me: “Yeah, dinner was great. I let my grandparents eat my ‘birth cream’.”

Boyfriend: *Laughing.* “Wow! You saved it all this time?”

I have thought about my words before I spoke them sooooo carefully ever since then.

A couple comes into our diner for breakfast.

Guy: “Can I get some hot sauce?”

Me: “We have a lot of hot sauces. Any preference?”

Guy: “Can I see them all?”

I bring out the tray of all our hot sauces from all over the world.

Me: “Enjoy this plethora of international heat!”

Guy: “WOW, that’s a big word for a server!”

Me: “‘International’ is a big word?”

Guy: “No! Plethora!”

I paused for a moment and responded:

Me: “Being a server has zero relation to one’s intelligence… I am educated, sir.”

Guy: “Oh… I… uh…”

Guy’s Girlfriend: “Wait, you think ‘Plethora’ is a big word and she’s the dumb one?!”

I got them their food and topped up their drinks. The girlfriend was very chatty, and the boyfriend didn’t make eye contact.

I was asleep, dreaming about something relatively inconsequential; wandering a supermarket, I think. 

However, partway through, creepy music started playing, reminiscent of a horror game, and my dream started to turn into a nightmare with monsters, so I decided to wake up, because I wasn’t in the mood for that.

I normally talk about my dream with my girlfriend when I wake up, and today was no different.

Me: *Explaining dream.* “Yeah, it was fun until the end, then it turned into a horror game.”

Girlfriend: “…Huh, weird. Anyway, wanna hear the music I’ve been working on?”

Me: “Yeah, sure!”

She plays music she’d been writing while I slept.

Me: “That’s the music that played when the genre of my dream changed to horror! It leaked into my dreams!”

Girlfriend: “Well, at least that’s proof that I managed to get the genre right!”