I’m in line at a small store. There’s one customer ahead of me, an older woman. The cashier is going a bit slow, but it’s not that busy, and I’m not in a rush, so no biggie.

Cashier: “Your total is $16.”

The customer pulls out a twenty, but then says:

Customer: “Oh, wait, I have a dollar.”

She gets a dollar out and hands the cashier $21. This is what I would do if I wanted a clean $5 in change.

The cashier looks confused and takes the twenty, but leaves the one on the counter. She then starts slowly counting out four more ones in change, when the customer ahead of me says:

Customer: “I ain’t going to a strip club, give me a five!”

The cashier got it, eventually. She looked really happy when it was my turn, and I was paying with my credit card.

I worked in a repair shop. A customer had lost her keys to her scooter. She had us pick up the scooter, cut her a new key, and then she came in to pick it up.

She walks in, pays, goes outside to drive home, stops, and walks back inside.

Customer: “Um, when I dropped my bike off, there were like… a lot more keys on here.”

She holds up the key ring and jangles it for a second.

Coworker: “You had us pick up your scooter… because you… Lost. Your. Keys.”

Customer: *Eyes go wide after several seconds of confusion.* “Oooohhhhhh! Thaaat’s riiiigghht!”

We all stare at each other as she leaves, worried for the pedestrians she would be driving past.

Perimenopause has done a number on my head; the brain fog is intense. I forget common words and phrases constantly.

Barista: “Hi, what can I get started for you today?”

Me: “Hello, yes, thank you. May I please have a large, iced peppermint mocha latte?”

Barista: “Of course, skim okay?”

My brain screeches to a halt.

Me: “No, um, actually, can I have normal milk?”

Barista: “Um…”

Me: “Not normal, what’s the word for it? Not soy or almond. Although, there’s nothing not normal about soy or almond. It’s nice that there are alternatives now for people who are lactose intolerant. My sister is, poor thing. She always has to get soy milk… I’m sorry, you don’t care about any of this… I just can’t think of the word… cow milk, but not skim?”

The barista is chuckling at this point.

Barista: “Do you mean whole milk?”

Me: “OH MY GOD, YES, THANK YOU! Whole milk, please. I’m so sorry.”

Barista: “No worries! You really need your coffee.”

Me: “Agreed.”

I’m able to laugh about it now, but in the moment, I was so mortified. She was very nice and patient, though.

I know we’re all human, and we all make mistakes. For example, I have a mug and a water bottle. I make coffee/tea in the mug, and use the water bottle for, well, water. One day, my brain, on autopilot, puts cream in my full water bottle instead of my coffee mug.

But the worst mistake anyone I know has ever made was my mother putting away breakfast.

I head to the kitchen to get my own breakfast and glance at the microwave. There’s a box of cereal in it. The microwave isn’t on, the box is just in there, sitting on the little spinning plate.

I remove it, and open the cabinet to put it back, and I find the milk gallon on a shelf in the cabinet, where the cereal goes. Luckily, it had only been in there a few minutes, so it wasn’t too big of a deal. I shout to my mother (in the other room) to make sure she puts things back correctly.

I open the fridge to put the milk gallon back, and lo: there is a dirty bowl where the milk goes. It even has a spoon in it.

My mother is fine, but since then (25+ years), we’ve joked that if something is put back wrong, we have to make sure we didn’t put the cereal in the microwave, or the milk in the cabinet!

After a long commute, I decide to get some coffee on my way to work. Normally, I don’t do this, but I haven’t been sleeping well, so I figure I need it (and we all know that the coffee at the office can be terrible). 

I walk up to the counter.

Me: “A regular coffee.”

Barista: “Do you want room for milk?”

I say yes, and then she pours the coffee for me. She hands it over, and I proceed to start putting milk and sugar into it.

This is when a new customer arrives and, of course, I move to give her some space at the counter. I wonder for a second why she doesn’t move on to give her order.

I glance quickly at the barista. She proceeds to ask me in the sweetest voice, with maybe some fear in her eyes:

Barista: “Can you please pay for the coffee you ordered?”

Mortified, I realize that I did, in fact, take out my wallet, but didn’t proceed to pay for the drink. I apologize profusely, quickly pay, and rush out of there, face as red as a tomato.

Yeah, I really needed that coffee.