(I’ve just finished stocking an end-cap of soup cans. It has taken me about 20 minutes to get them all lined up properly. As I’m walking away, a little boy of about six or seven comes charging up. He kicks the cans on the bottom shelf over, sending them flying everywhere. Then, he grabs two and throws them, one hitting another customer in the shin and the other smashing right through a glass bottle of cheap wine.)

Me: “HEY! What the heck are you doing, kid?!”

Boy: “My mommy said I should go make someone else miserable for once!”

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(It’s Halloween, and I’m dressed up as a vampire and wearing a pentacle necklace. The crew is planning on going out after work for a party.)

Me: “Did you find everything you needed tonight?”

Customer: “Yes, thank you. Can I just say that I think it was very nice of them to let you all dress up for tonight? I really like what you have on.”

Me: “Thank you, ma’am.”

Customer: “But don’t you think you took it a little too far?”

Me: “Uh… took what too far?”

Customer: “Well, I understand that you’re supposed to be some type of vampire, but don’t you think that necklace is taking it too far?”

Me: “Oh, that. That’s not part of my costume. I always wear that.”

Customer: *loudly* “Well if you want to risk burning in H*** for wearing that devil worshiping symbol, that’s just fine with me… but they shouldn’t be letting you wear that here in a public place!”

Me: *sarcastically* “Well, why shouldn’t they let me wear it? After all, we all practice together and I’m the high priestess. In fact as soon as you leave, we’re gonna close up the store, start a bonfire in the parking lot, and then dance naked around it until dawn.”

Customer: *to one of my managers*“Aren’t you going to do anything about what she said to me?”

Manager #1: “Yes, ma’am. As soon as you leave, we’re going to close the store.”

Customer: “THAT’S IT?!”

Manager #2: “Of course not, ma’am. You heard the rest of our… plans.”

(And with the kind of timing that only happens once in a lifetime, a stock boy unwittingly walked out of the back room while taking his uniform shirt off at the same time. The customer practically ran out of the store.)

(My son is talking to me about one of his Lego “Star Wars” sets.)

Son: “I want to try to build it with you later this week. It’s a model of the escape pod that C3PO and R2D2 use to escape to Tatooine in episode four, and it comes with a little Lego C3PO and R2D2!”

(Being a seven-year-old, he’s not very good at keeping all of his Lego pieces organized. There are little bitty Lego pieces all over my house. So it comes as no surprise that he loses a few pieces after playing for a while.)

Son: “I’m missing the two figurines from the set!”

Me: “They’re probably somewhere around the house; we’ll just have to look for them.”

(My wife chimes in, addressing our son.)

Wife: “I think I saw R2D2 under your bed.”

(My wife goes upstairs to get it and sets it on the table next to our son’s breakfast plate. My son sits down at the table, picks up the figurine, and looks at it, speaking very matter-of-factly.)

Son: “Mom, this is not the droid I’m looking for.”

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(I am picking up my three-year-old daughter from daycare one afternoon. We cross the parking lot to my car.)

Me: “How was school today, sweetie?”

Daughter: “I found a snack!”

Me: “You did? Was it yummy?”

Daughter: “Mommmmmyyyyyy! You don’t eat snacks!”

Me: “What are you talking about, [Daughter]?”

(My daughter stops walking, sets her backpack down, opens it up, and pulls out her “snack,” which happens to be a dead snake.)

Me: “AAAAAHHHHHH!”

(I screamed so loud that two policemen eating lunch in the sandwich shop across the street heard me and came running. Later, one of them said it sounded like someone was having their legs pulled off.)

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(I work as an attendant for a theme park roller coaster. We have had an incident where a guest’s $10,000, custom-made prosthetic leg fell off while he was riding the coaster and landed in the moat below. Thanks to that, the park changed their policy to not allow anyone to bring a prosthetic limb onto any ride; now they must be stored in lockers with other personal belongings.)

Me: “How many in your party, sir?”

Guest: “Two.”

Me: “Row three, please. Right this way.”

Guest: “Hold on.”

(He bends over, unsnaps something, pulls his leg out of his jeans, straightens up and hands it to me.)

Me: “Uh…”

Guest: “Could you hold onto this while I ride?”

Me: *unable to take my eyes off the prosthetic being offered* “I, uh… I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to store that in the lockers out front.”

Guest: “You mean I have to go through the whole line again?”

Me: *visibly shivering* “You, um, I mean, I can give you a pass to let you back into the leg– I mean, front of the line.”

Guest: “Well, that sure is a pain.”

(He starts hobbling around to put his leg back on, when new guests start coming down the queue. At the front of the line is a little boy, maybe six or seven years old, and his mother.)

Little Boy: *wide-eyed and pointing at the one-legged man* “Look, mommy! That man’s a robot!”

Mother: “You’re making that man feel bad. You apologize to him!”

Little Boy: *suddenly terrified* “Is he gonna shoot me with his lasers?”

Guest: *in a silly computer-like voice* “DON’T WORRY, YOUNG HUMAN PERSON. I ONLY SHOOT BAD GUYS WITH MY LASERS. BEEP BOOP.”

Little Boy: “Whoooooaaaaaa!”

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