(I’m looking around in a renaissance festival shop that specializes in real animal furs. A woman in a rockin’ outfit walks up to the employee that’s helping me right now.)

Woman: “Excuse me!”

Employee: “Yes?”

Woman: “Your store is a sick madman’s shop! I don’t understand what the h*** is wrong with you! These poor animals all died for this?! You’re a monster!”

(She storms off angrily, flipping off the shop owner.)

Me: “Should I tell her that leather’s made from cows?”

(That rockin’ outfit was made of full leather!)

(I work at an arts festival over the summer.)

Me: “[Festival], this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “I’m looking at your website and I’m trying to get tickets.”

Me: “Okay, I can help with that! What event are you looking at?”

(He names an event that I’m certain is part of a sister/fringe festival that runs concurrently, because it’s definitely not one of ours.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. That’s probably a [Fringe] event, not—”

Customer: *immediately and violently explodes* “NO! NO! NO! NO! God-d*** it! You f****** idiot! I’ve already TALKED to them and they said it’s NOT one of theirs and I’m sick and tired of being TREATED this way!” *he continues berating me as I hold the receiver in shock*

Me: *finally regaining composure* “I’m so sorry, sir. Is there anything I can do? I’ve got their booklet here and can try to look it up, so—”

Customer: “I’m SICK of you! You need to get your f****** ACT together!” *click*

(Another employee, having overhead part of the exchange, looks over at me as I woodenly hang up the phone.)

Employee: “Yikes, what was that about?”

Me: “Well, I’m not sure, but I guess I need to get my f****** act together.”

(As it turned out, the event was neither ours nor the fringe festival’s, but a completely unrelated event. I’m sure he felt like he was getting the run-around, but he could have easily checked the local paper to verify. As for getting my act together, at the end of the festival, I was presented with a superlative: “Most likely to have his act together.”)

(My brother and I are discussing my coworker whom I think he should date.)

Me: “I mentioned to her that I thought the two of you would get along really well, but I also told her I hadn’t said anything to you about it so she wouldn’t feel awkward if you ever came in. At the time I didn’t know mom had told you, so if you do ever see her, please don’t say anything.”

Brother: “You mean I shouldn’t open with, ‘So you’re my arranged bride?’”

Me: “I paid two goats for you – let’s go. Actually, she’s worth way more than two goats, so you’re going to have to pony up.”

(A beat passes where we both realize the unintentional pun I just made.)

Simultaneously: “Ha HA!”

Brother: “Now if we ever do go out I’m going to have to give her a pony and never explain it.”

(I’m at the renaissance festival with my wife and her friend. I have just purchased a cup of ale and the two ladies want to go into a costume shop to see what is for sale. They have a sign, not only on the pillar, but also on a table outside the shop which reads “Please leave your food and beverages here or outside while shopping!” I stop before going in and my wife calls out to me.)

Wife: “Something wrong?”

Me: “Not at all. I’m going to wait outside. They don’t want me coming in with a drink, cuteness.”

(All of a sudden, three women, all in costume come RUNNING out of nowhere from inside the shop and stop in front of me.)

Me: “Uh…”

All Three Ladies: “HUZZAH FOR THE READER! HUZZAH! HUZZAH! HUZZAH!”

(My wife, her friend, and I start cracking up as they clap.)

Me: “Well, the sign is pretty big and specific.”

Lady #1: “Oh, you wouldn’t believe how many people miss that.”

Lady #2: “Yesterday we had a man come in with orange juice. A kid ran by, smacked his elbow, and he ended up buying a $3,500 costume!”

(I blink, not realizing things in the shop were so expensive.)

Me: “Well… as much as I do want to get my wife a costume, I’d rather get one she wants!”

Lady #3: “And in the right size… and the right color…”

Me: “And not $3,500! No offense!”

(My friend and I are having fun exploring the festival. She’s just gotten a large henna tattoo on her back, so she’s just wearing a bra, but hardly indecent. We sit down to eat samosas.)

Woman: “Hi! Are you enjoying the festival?”

Me: *assuming she works for the festival* “We sure are!”

Woman: *as though a switch has flipped in her brain* “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?”

Me: *to my friend* “How’s the chicken samosa?”

Friend: “It’s good! Here, I’ll trade you.”

(We weren’t rude; we just completely ignored her and talked about samosas.)