(I started a new job as a receptionist at a local law firm about three months ago. I have had no experience in a law environment prior to this job, and my general understanding of law is that of the average individual. One evening after work, I meet up with a few friends for drinks. One of them starts talking about her ongoing issues with her ex-boyfriend.)

Friend: “[My Name], what do you think I should do?”

Me: “Honestly, I think you should have hired an attorney back when he stopped paying his child support. I imagine it will only get worse from here on out.”

Friend: “Yeah, but I can’t afford to hire an attorney. Isn’t there something I can do?”

Me: “I’m sure there is, but what that is, I cannot tell you.”

Friend: “Can’t or won’t?”

Me: *taken aback* “I mean that I do not know the answer.”

Friend: “But you work at a law firm!”

Me: “That doesn’t mean I instantly know anything more about law than you do.”

Friend: “But you’re smart. You’ve certainly picked something up by now?”

Me: “According to that logic, you should book your son’s next check up with someone who works in the maintenance department or the billing department at [Major Hospital].”

Friend: “That’s stupid, though. Why would you think they’d know anything about medicine?”

Everyone Else At The Table: “EXACTLY!”

(I work as a customer service representative answering for a government assistance program. In the last six months, I’ve dealt with some very interesting people.)

Me: “Thank you for calling. My name is [My Name]. May I have your social and name?”

Client: “Yeah, no need. I just need a fax number.”

Me: “Not a problem, sir. The fax number is [number].”

Client: “Well, I hope this works. And I need you to tell my caseworker I’ll need them to send my papers back to me when they’ve finished with them.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir?”

Client: “Are you stupid? I said I’ll need them back. It’s already going to cost me $5 to send them over, but I still need them for my records, and I’ll be d***ed if you’re going to keep my social security card!”

Me: “Sir, I do apologize, but you just informed me that you will be faxing these documents over. We only receive copies of what you’re sending, not the originals. The originals stay with you.”

Client: “Young lady, I don’t know how old you are, but I can tell you right now, I’ve been alive for 45 years, and I know how a d*** fax works! Send them a message now!” *click*

(Not only did I start laughing at his ignorance, I also felt bad for the next person who would need to deal with him. He didn’t provide me any information, therefore his account was never accessed, and his worker could not be notified of this. Sure enough, two days later he called in wanting to know why he had to stand there for so long waiting for his papers to be faxed back.)

(My grandma worked as a convenience store clerk from her early 60s until she was well into her 70s. I am visiting, and she has to work one of the days of my visit, so I take her to work so I can borrow her car for the day. I get there just before the end of her shift to pick her up, and I am hanging around when a customer brings a 12-pack of beer up to the counter.)

Grandma: “Good afternoon! Can I see your ID?”

Customer: “Aw, man, what? I’m 32!”

Grandma: “I saw you drive up, and you know you’re required to have your license with you when you drive, so let’s see it.”

Customer: “Yeah, it’s in the glovebox. You’re going to make me go out and get it? I really am 32!”

Grandma: “Well, sir, I’m not that good at judging ages. I’m an old lady; you all look like babies to me!”

Customer: “Aw, c’mon, you’re not that old.”

Grandma: “Tell you what. You guess how old I am, and if you get within five years, then I’ll take your word for how old you are.”

Customer: “Okay! I’d say you’re… mid-fifties. If I have to be specific… 54.”

(Grandma reaches in the pocket of her uniform shirt and pulls out her own license.)

Grandma: “I’m 73!”

Customer: *pauses* “I guess I’ll go get my license, then.”

(He actually did go get it, and he really was 32! Grandma told me later that she did that all the time to cut off the argument, and nobody had ever guessed over 60. Today, she’s 94 and could pass for a spry 75, with less than half of her hair gone to gray.)

(One day I’m working in a store at closing. Since we often have a lot of people try to rush in after closing, we have someone on duty to make sure the door pulls shut completely so it locks and to tell people we’re closed if they try to come in. I see a woman rushing toward the store with her family following her. She puts her hand on the door, then stops and says something to her family. Just as she stops at the door, a customer inside the store is leaving. As the customer inside pushes the door open, the woman pulls it open and waits for the other customer to exit before trying to come in.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re closed.”

Customer: “Huh?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”

Customer: “Oh… You should really lock your door, then.”

Me: “It is locked, currently.”

Customer: “Well, it wasn’t just now.”

Me: “Because someone else was halfway through it. Have a good night.”

(I’ve been a cashier at a grocery store chain for about six months. I’m one of the few cashiers who isn’t a minor and works nights on the weekends. It’s Saturday at around 10:30 pm when two young men walk up, reeking of weed. I greet them and ring up their order, and I scan some sort of cough syrup, which is an age-restricted item. Policy says we have to ID anyone who is under 40.)

Me: “Can I please see your ID?”

Customer #2: “What the h*** do you need his ID for?”

Me: “Oh.” *holds up cough syrup* “You have to be 18 to buy this.”

Customer #1: “Chill, man. She’s just doing her job.”

(He then searches his pockets and pulls out his phone.)

Customer #1: “I don’t got my ID on me, but I got my mugshot.”

(The customer shows me his phone, where the county sheriff’s department page and, indeed, his mugshot, are on screen.)

Me: “Um, sir, that’s not a valid state-issued ID.”

Customer #1: “It’s not?”

Me: “No, it’s… it’s just a mug-shot. Do you maybe have a license or a military ID?”

Customer #1: “No.”

(Legally, I couldn’t let them purchase the item. While they were mostly polite, the story was just too good to not share.)