My grandma goes to her butcher about an hour before closing time. The butcher stops making meat about two or three hours before closing because some of the meat takes a while to cook. There are only a couple of lamb chops left, and my grandma wants to cook a nice meal for some family coming to town, so she grabs the last two.

Customer #1: “Why did you take the last two lamb chops?”

Grandma: “Not that it’s your business, but I have some family coming in town tonight and wanted to prepare a nice meal for them.”

Customer #1: “Well, I, too, have some guests coming over. You don’t need two cuts!”

[Customer #1] then reaches into my grandmother’s cart and removes one of the lamb chops, places it in her own cart, and walks away. The butcher looks at my grandma with a face of surprise and begins to call out to [Customer #1]. My grandma holds up her hand to the butcher.

Grandma: “No, it’s okay. She obviously needs it more than me.”

The butcher gave her a discount on the one lamb chop she ended up buying and a coupon for the next time she came in.

(I grew up on a small-scale farm, and right after college, I take a job as a clerk in a butcher shop. A woman comes in one day and starts giving one of my coworkers a hard time about the size of the pork chops. He comes to me asking for a hand, and I ask her what the problem is.)

Customer: “Your pork chops are too small; I need bigger ones.”

Me: “Certainly, ma’am. I’ll go talk to the butcher in the back and we can cut them thicker—”

Customer: “No, not thicker, I want them bigger.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but they don’t come any bigger than this. This is the largest you’ll find at any store.”

Customer: “Well, I got them bigger at [Other Store].”

Me: “Ma’am, I raise pigs. The muscle in a market-sized pig does not come larger than what we have presented here.”

(She bought six chops.)

(I am shopping in a grocery store and want to get some chicken breasts for dinner at the butchery. Because I only have to make dinner for myself, I want to get just a few. They are on sale and a nice worker is quick to help me.)

Me: “Hey, could I get one of the chicken breasts, please?”

Worker: “Yes, no problem!” *grabs four pieces and puts them in the plastic bag*

Me: “Oh, I wanted just one, please.”

Worker: “No problem!” *puts one of the pieces away and goes to put the three on the scale*

Me: “No, please. I said one, not three.”

Worker: “But no one buys only one. They are on sale.”

Me: “But I really need just one. Could I get it, please?”

(She sighs heavily, looks at me, and pulls two pieces out of the bag in a dramatic fashion.)

Worker: “You will miss out on a great deal by just buying one.”

Me: “I think I will get over that, thanks.”

(I grabbed my bag as I could hear her say, “Who just buys one?”)

(I work in a butcher’s shop.)

Me: “Good morning. Can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, um, yeah. I would like a steak.”

Me: “We sell different kinds of steak; which one would you like?” *shows the steaks*

Customer: “Hmm… I would like that kind.” *points*

Me: “Would you like the bigger piece or the smaller one?”

Customer: “Well, if it’s the same price, I’ll take the bigger one, of course!”

Me: *stunned* “Um, steaks are sold by weight. The bigger the steak, the more it will cost.”

Customer: “Oh… well… sure… I’ll take the smaller one, then.”

(My mom has been going to the same small-town butcher shop for over twenty years. This allows her to make the occasional… interesting order.)

Mom: “Hi. I’d like to order a turkey for roasting and four extra full turkey legs. And can you make sure that’s two left legs and two right legs?”

Employee: “Um, okay, we can do that. But only if you promise to tell us why!”

Mom: “I will when I come in to pick them up, I promise!”

(A couple days later, her order is in and she goes to pick it up.)

Employee: “So, about that explanation…”

Mom: “We’re having a Star Trek-themed dinner party. We’re going to skewer the extra legs onto each side of the turkey and tell our guests it’s an extraterrestrial ‘turkey beetle.'”

Employee: “That is probably the best thing I have ever heard.”

(Somewhere in one of my parents’ old photo albums is a picture of them in Starfleet uniforms, proudly showing off their assembled and roasted “turkey beetle”!)