(I wake up in the early morning hours after a terrible dream about my mother’s death. I grab my phone to call her.)
Me: “Hello, Mom.”
Mom: “Hello, are you all right?”
Me: “I’m fine, just had a dream you died.”
Mom: “Oh, that happened years ago. Got to go, bye.”
(Love you, Mom. Never change.)
(A guest with a thick accent comes up to the front desk looking for directions.)
Guest: “Can you tell me where is the nearest cheep-otel?”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
Guest: “The nearest cheep-otel?”
(They way he is pronouncing it, it sounds like “cheap hotel.”)
Me: “Well… there’s a couple [Hotels] in the area, or if you go down [Street] there are some smaller-name hotels, but I don’t really know any of their price ranges.”
Guest: “No! Cheep-otel! The Mexican place? They make burritos?”
Me: “Um… OH! CHIPOTLE!”
(Awkward silence.)
Me: “Let me look that up for you.”
(I work at a small coffee shop in a small town that is very tourist-driven.)
Me: “Hi there. Welcome to [Coffee Shop]! What can I get for you?”
Customer: *looks at the menu for a few seconds* “I have a question. Are your ice-blended drinks made with ice?”
Me: “Uh… Yes, the ice-blended drinks are blended with ice.”
Customer: “Hmm, is it cold?”
Me: “Yes… very cold.”
Customer: “Okay! I’ll take one!”
(She stayed straight-faced the whole time while asking.)
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(I am working in the female juniors department putting the dressing room clothing back on the floor. A lady in her late 20s, holding an armful of bathing suits, and an older man in his 30s come up to me.)
Me: “Would you like a dressing room, ma’am?”
Customer: “I want to try on these bathing suits, but can my boyfriend come in with me?”
(All the mothers in the waiting room look at the couple.)
Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that’s not possible. “
Customer: “But how am I supposed to try on my bikinis if he isn’t there to tell me how I look in them?”
(I turn to her, wondering if she is joking, only to find she is dead serious.)
Me: “Well, you can try the bathing suits on and come into the waiting room to show him, or you can try them on, take a picture with your phone, and send it to him.”
Customer: “I don’t want strangers to see me in my bikini, just my boyfriend. Why can’t he come in with me?”
Me: “Ma’am, I cannot allow a man into the juniors fitting room.”
Customer: *getting agitated* “But why not? He isn’t a perv. I just want him to see me try on my bikinis.”
(All the mothers in the waiting room are paying full attention to the conversation.)
Me: “Maybe you didn’t understand what I’m saying. Your boyfriend cannot enter into the young ladies junior fitting room. There are young ladies here trying on clothes and I guarantee you they will not be okay with an unknown male walking into the dressing room. He cannot go in.”
(The customer suddenly gets the message and faces me, exclaiming.)
Customer: “Oh! They are uncomfortable with their bodies! How cute. I understand. We can go to another department, though, right?”
Me: “Only if the associates in those departments give you the okay.”
(The customer leaves with her boyfriend. All the mothers in the waiting room start clapping and telling me how well I handled the situation and that they all wanted to tell the manager what a great employee I am, when…)
Random Grandma: “If the b**** doesn’t want strange people in the dressing room seeing her in a bikini, she’d better not show her ugly a** at the beach or pool.”
(I walk down to the corner store to pick up a few things. While I am browsing, a young woman enters the store.)
Customer: *to cashier* “Do you have biscuits? Like, dough-in-a-can type biscuits?”
Cashier: “No, we don’t, sorry.”
(The woman pauses to look at the glass case at the front counter containing various smoking paraphernalia.)
Customer: “You do have bongs, though… but I need biscuits!”
(She then exited the store.)
