(I cashier at a small mom-and-pop place in a fairly small town, nowhere near any major cities. On this day, two kids approach my register with a handful of various cheap candies.)

Me: “Well, hello there! Is this everything for you?”

Kid #1: “Yeah!”

Me: *totaling their purchases* “Okay, that comes to $9.59 exactly.”

([Kid #1] hands me a $10. I set it down on the counter while punching it into the register.)

Me: “Okay, and out of $10, that comes to—”

Kid #1: “I gave you a $20!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Kid #2: “He gave you a $20!”

(There is a pause as I stare at them in confusion.)

Me: “Uh, I’m sorry, but no, you didn’t.” *I pick up the $10 bill* “This is all you gave me.”

(Now the kids look confused.)

Kid #1: “But… the other boys at school said if we tell you we gave you a $20 you’ll give us more money back.”

(My heart sinks as I now realize what these kids are trying to do.)

Me: “I see. Well, first off, let me tell you what you did wrong. You’re supposed to wait until I put the money in my register and give you your change before you say anything.”

(Both kids’ faces light up.)

Kid #1: “Ooooh! That makes more sense!”

Kid #2: “Yeah, can you give us the $10 and let us try again? We’ll get it right this time!”

Me: “Well… no, because second off, what you’re trying to do is basically steal from the store. You’re trying to trick me by lying to me, and take money from the register that isn’t yours. That’s money the store needs to buy stock, pay bills, and of course, give me my salary.”

(Both kids faces now turn shocked.)

Kid #1: “Oh… sorry! We didn’t know, honest!”

Me: “I know you didn’t. Just might want to tell the boys at school what they’re doing is wrong.”

Kid #2: “Can we have the $10 back? We need it to go see a movie.”

(I handed back their money and voided the purchase. They left, hopefully now wiser and better, while I shook my head that apparently this well-known scam had spread so far that even the kids in my little “Nowheresville” town were being told about it and how to pull it off.)

(We’re a small 60 seat cafe with extremely high turnover; from eight am until midday we can seat and serve 300 guests.)

Customer: “Hi, I’ve got a booking for [Name].”

Me: “Right, your party of 17 is right over here.”

Customer: “Oh, what about the kids?”

Me: “Kids?”

Customer: “Yes, we booked for 17 adults, but we’ve got our kids. You’re going to need to find some seats.”

Me: “How many?”

Customer: “There will be 42 of us.”

Me: “Dude, that’s half the restaurant. We have bookings all day; if there are 42 of you, we can’t accommodate you.”

Customer: “That’s okay, the kids can just play and sit on their parents laps.”

Me: “Sure, fine, your table is right here.”

(This party trashes the cafe; the bathroom looks like a rugby team has been practicing in there. There is food from one end of the place to the other. The kids have drawn on the walls behind their parents’ table. Disaster. We lose 200 customers on this day, and we’re looking at a five-figure black hole of turnover, plus the repair bill. The worst part happens after they’ve finished.)

Customer: “Okay, so I had two poached eggs, toast, bacon, and two flat whites. Can you split that out of the bill please?”

(At this stage the bill is in four-digit territory, and I want these people out.)

Me: “Sorry, sir, we don’t split bills; here’s a calculator and a copy of your receipt.”

(The bill is 1.5 meters long.)

Customer: “Oh, no, we’re all going to pay separately. Otherwise, we’ll just leave; this is terrible service.”

Me: “You’re welcome to leave, sir. I’ll call the police now, and have them come down and arrest your party for theft of service, and vandalism for what your kids have done to my venue.”

Customer: “Maybe we’ll just pay.”

Me: “Thank you, sir.”

(It took this mob another 20 minutes of yelling and fighting with each other to sort out the bill. They tried to give it to me four times; each time it was short and got sent back. No tip. No apology.)

(My wife and I went shopping together in a local store with our two little girls, who are about one and three years of age. The oldest is sitting in the shopping cart, facing my wife, and the youngest is in a carrier in the basket. Suddenly, the oldest reaches up and grabs my wife’s breasts.)

Wife: “[Daughter]! Why did you do that?”

Daughter: “Daddy does it!”

Me: *laughing as my wife hits me* “So much for not being caught!”

(I am sitting in the waiting room of my local GP, where a mother and her son have arrived for their appointment.)

Receptionist: “Miss [Name], I think [Son] needs the toilet.”

Mother: “No, he does that when he’s getting ready. That’s his potty dance.”

Receptionist: “Sorry, but I think he’s trying to tell you he really needs to go.”

Mother: “I’m his mother. I know my son better than anyone. He’ll be ready in a couple of minutes. I’ll take him after his dance.”

(The receptionist protested again, and the mother threatened to complain about her. The boy stopped dancing around a few minutes later, and it looked like he was in a lot of pain. Just as his mother was about to take him to the toilet, the doctor called them in and she decided to force her son to wait again. He could barely move and we were all a bit worried. I was called in to see my doctor next. By the time I left, there were police officers in the building, and I could hear hysterical screaming coming from one of the rooms. As I walked by, I heard one of the receptionists saying, “Imagine using a paperclip to keep it shut.”)

(I’m driving my nine-year-old daughter. My daughter asks me to play the soundtrack quiz game. She hasn’t seen many of the movies in the game, she only knows the music. English isn’t our first language.)

Me: *hums the theme from “Schindler’s List”*

Daughter: “I KNOW THAT ONE! S***-LIST!”