(There is a fire next door, and I have just been notified. I am about to go around alerting the guests in the building next to the one that is burning. Thankfully, only one of the rooms is occupied.)

Me: *knocks on the door, and the guest opens up* “Hi! There is a fire next door, and I have to ask you to evacuate immediately.”

Guest: “What?”

Me: “The building behind your room is on fire, and we are not sure if the fire will come this way, so we are asking that you leave the room.”

Guest: “Leave my room? I have to take a shower! I need to go somewhere and get ready!”

Me: “Well, the building behind you is burning, and has smoke coming out of the roof!”

(The guest closes the door. I can’t get her to leave, so I go find my manager to help me. I am unable to find her until I look on our roof. She is up there, spraying water with a hose on our roof, so the fire won’t be as dangerous if it comes over to our building. She tells me to get a key to another room and ask the guest again to leave.)

Me: *knocks on the door, and the guest’s husband opens up; all the while you can hear the fire trucks approaching* “Hi, there’s a fire next door—”

Guest’s Husband: *he cuts me off* “Yeah, I know. I opened up the bathroom window and immediately smelled the smoke. I had to show her so she would get dressed.”

Guest: *fully dressed and with a “just got yelled at” expression on her face* “I’m ready. Where do we have to go?”

Me: “Here’s a key to room [number]. It is in the other building, and you can keep it for the rest of the night. You can finish getting ready in there.”

(I may not have had a building full of guests, but the only two that I had sure caused me some trouble.)

(I work at a pharmacy where patients are asked to give their signature for insurance purposes, indicating that they have picked up their prescriptions, before they make their payment. Here is the basic conversation, all day, every day, at the pick-up counter.)

Cashier: “Before you swipe your card, can you please press ‘next’ on the screen and sign that you are picking up your medications?”

Customer: “Okay!” *swipes card anyway, then presses ‘next’ and signs*

Cashier: *annoyed* “Okay, you can slide your card now.”

Customer: *angry* “I already slid my card!”

Cashier: *rolls eyes* “Yes, but as I was saying, you need to press ‘next’ and sign first, and then slide your card. If you slide before signing, the terminal will not read your card.”

Customer: “Oh, okay! Well, I hope I don’t get charged twice!”

Cashier: *even more annoyed* “You won’t; trust me.”

(Customer slides card.)

Cashier: “Okay, now I need your signature for the purchase.”

Customer: “But I already signed!”

Cashier: *deep sigh*

(I work at popular “emo” store, but we also sell things relating to Harry Potter, anime, etc. One day, a mom walks in followed by the most adorable little girl I have ever seen. They look around awhile before finding something they like.)

Girl: “Look, Mommy! A Stitch onesie!”

Mom: *looking at me* “Can she try it on?”

Me: “Of course!”

(The little girl puts on the onesie and it basically maximizes her cuteness factor. You know that warm, fuzzy feeling of, “Holy f***; that’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” when you’re looking at, like, chinchillas? That is what I am getting from this.)

Mom: “You look so cute! How much?”

Girl: “Forty bucks.”

Mom: “Oh… that’s a little expensive.”

(I can’t take the cute. It’s too much.)

Me: “You know what? We have coupons for twenty percent off for extra-special customers. And that was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Girl: “Yeah! Thank Miss Store Lady! You’re awesome!”

(She gave me a hug before taking the onesie off and running to the checkout with her mom. The little girl has come in since then, and is always just as adorable, but this was definitely the cutest.)

I was listening to music while eating candy corn. It was a slow day, and my boss was incessantly interrupting me to talk about video games. Thinking his interruptions were about work, I kept having to take an ear-bud out and then put it back in.

Finally, after being interrupted too many times, I ended up putting a candy corn in my ear and trying to eat one of my headphone ear-buds.

I thought to myself, “Why does this candy corn taste like earwax and failure?”

(While I sit at the dining room table on my computer, my older brother is sitting across from me, attempting to carve wood. He’s trying to get a knot out of the edge of the wood, and doing so in a very dangerous manner, hammering the point of the blade in with the handle of a different blade, while the blade in the wood is pointing towards his hand. Since he’s already proven to be accident-prone and easily injured, I speak up.)

Me: “I’m worried you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Brother: “Nah, it’s fine.”

(I sigh and turn back to my computer. Suddenly, my brother lets out a loud yelp!)

Brother: “It was the stick! The stick stabbed me, not the blade!”