(I am a customer standing in line at the bank. Two customers behind me start complaining about the length of the line.)

Customer #1: “Look at this! It’s ridiculous!”

Customer #2: “They are moving so slow! The workers should get fired for being so lazy!”

(This goes on for a couple of minutes. When I draw even with the complaining customers in the switchbacked line, I decide I can’t take it anymore and speak up.)

Me: “Look at the windows, ladies! Every one of them has customers who didn’t take the time to fill out their slips. Now the tellers have to do it for them, and that takes twice as long! They’re the ones holding up all of us, not the nice people trying to help them!”

(I’m talking loud enough for everyone at the windows to hear, hoping maybe next time they’ll wise up.)

Customers #1 and #2: *shocked*

Me: “Let me guess. Wanna borrow my pen?”

(The complaining customers sheepishly agree and fill out their slips. Three or four others in line also grab slips and start scribbling, while the customers at the windows look suitably embarrassed. When I finally get to a teller window, she leans towards me and confides in me.)

Teller: *whispering* “Thank you, from everyone here! I wish I could save the security tape of that!”

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(This happens around Easter. A man in an Easter Bunny suit comes riding a unicycle into the parking lot and enters the shop.)

Me: “Hey there, Easter Bunny!”

Easter Bunny: “Donuts? Sick! I’ll have three strawberry, three cherry, and three blueberry, glazed, and with frosting and sprinkles!”

Me: *hands him the bag* “Anything else?”

Easter Bunny: “Nah! Donuts! Sick!”

(The Easter Bunny suddenly SLAMMED his head on the counter, which would have been quite painful if not for the headpiece on his costume. An egg rolled out seemingly from nowhere and onto the counter. He walked out without another word, hopped onto his unicycle, and rode off. The egg contained exact change—plus a labeled five-dollar tip!)

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(I’m working the front counter. A customer comes inside carrying one of our large cups of soda. She pushes past several other customers who are waiting in line and slams the cup down onto the counter.)

Customer: “I just came through the drive-thru and they f***ed up my order yet again! It’s not that hard, so I don’t know why you idiots can’t handle it.”

Me: “Sorry about that. What were you missing?”

Customer: “Nothing! It’s my drink! I ordered a large Diet Coke with the ice on the bottom.”

(She rips the lid off of the cup. As one would expect from any soda currently obeying the laws of physics, the ice is floating on the top.)

Customer: “What does that look like to you?!”

Me: “Well, it looks like the ice is floating on the top.”

Customer: “Exactly! You’re going to dump this out and remake it, with the ice on the bottom this time!”

Me: “I’m not sure that’s possible. Ice floats, ma’am. I can’t make it stay on the bottom of the cup.”

Customer: “What are you talking about? Just put the ice in the bottom of the cup.”

Me: “But when I fill it with soda, the ice is going to float up to the top anyway. It’s just how it works.”

Customer: “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just make it work.”

Me: “I’m sorry, maybe I’m just not understanding you. If you could just show me over at the self-serve drink station, I can tell everyone else how to do it properly next time.”

(The customer storms over to the station and empties her cup. She proceeds to fill the cup with ice, casting me smug looks over her shoulder, and then dispenses soda into the cup. When it is full, she looks down at the cup in disbelief. The customer dumps out her soda and makes another attempt. After three or four tries, she finally caps the cup again and walks out of the store, avoiding eye contact with me.)

Customer: “What comes in a Caramel Macchiato? Do you guys make a better one than [Competitor #1]?”

Me: “Well, sir, we make it with [ingredients], while [Competitor #1] makes it with [Competitor #1’s ingredients], and [Competitor #2] makes it with [Competitor #2’s ingredients].”

Customer: *stunned* “Wow! How do you guys know that?!”

Me: “Well, I’ve worked at all of those other places before I got here, so I know a few of their tricks.”

Customer: “Man, you’re, like… Super Barista!”

(The man orders a caramel macchiato and pays happily. The next day, he catches me in the middle of taking out trash. Rather than removing my apron, I simply turn it backward to avoid getting it dirty, inadvertently making it appear as if I’m wearing a cape. Suddenly, the customer from the day before comes driving by.)

Customer: “SUPER BARISTA!”

(I am a customer at an outlet shoe store in the White Mountains region of New Hampshire. We often get French Canadians who come to New Hampshire for vacations and buy things here to avoid the high taxes they pay in Canada. Most of them speak perfectly fine English, but some of them, particularly some of the older people, can have some trouble. I speak French fluently, so I’m helping an elderly couple who is having trouble translating the sales signs.)

Me: *in French* “It says that if you buy one pair of shoes, you get the second pair half-off.”

Elderly Customer: *in French* “Thank you. My English is not good, and some things just don’t translate well—”

Other Customer: “Don’t do that!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Other Customer: “Don’t pander to them! If they want to live in this country, they should learn to speak English!”

Me: “I think they are just visiting.”

Other Customer: “Bulls***! Once they get into our country, they never leave! That’s why we need a fence.” *turns to the elderly couple* “Go back to Mexico!”

Me: “They’re Canadian.”

Other Customer: “Don’t lie to me. I heard you speaking Spanish!”

Me: “That was French. Canada is bilingual. Plenty of people in Canada speak French as their first language.”

Other Customer: “We need a fence!”

Me: “They are from Canada!”

Other Customer: “We need TWO fences!”