My brother, sister-in-law, and I are playing a game where some of the rules are a bit… open to interpretation.

Me: *Paraphrasing the card I’m playing* “‘This turn, the most argumentative player goes first, and the least argumentative goes last.’ Can we go ahead and agree that that means [Brother], then me, and then [Sister-In-Law]?”

Sister-In-Law: “Sure.”

Brother: “NO!”

He went first. She went last.

I was mostly a witness to the first half of this story, and I was directly involved in the second half.

I’m on a cruise, and I come up to the pool. There’s a water volleyball game going on that looks like it’s in its final round. One guy in the pool (who I’ll call “Mr. D”) is a tall, large fellow who is being annoyingly abrasive. One of my friends who has been up here for the game fills me in that smack talk is allowed, but Mr. D has been overdoing it, and my friend and others around are talking about how done they are with how annoying he is.

Mr. D’s team wins, which he exults in, and the game is over. The host asks Mr. D to introduce himself for all the smack talk he did, which he does. 

Host: *On a microphone* “Allow me to introduce Mr. D, our champion trash-talker.”

There’s slight applause.

Host: “Now, that does it for our game. Stick around for our men’s sexy legs competition! We will need about ten men to compete and four ladies to be judges.”

With a little prodding, I volunteer to be a judge in this contest. I am led to the stage where I sit down on a chair and watch as the host rounds up men for this contest. 

Host: “We now have ten contestants for our competition, and we will no longer be taking volunteers. The show will begin in five minutes!”

The host and his assistant are rounding up the volunteers and prepping them for the competition. A minute later, Mr. D strides up to the host and starts chatting. I can’t hear what’s being said, but Mr. D is getting louder and more animated. Finally, the host returns to the stage.

Host: “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be starting our sexy legs competition shortly, and allow me to introduce our special guest who just got added to the roster, Mr. D!”

I inwardly groan as this guy struts up to the group of guys, ready for the competition. All the other volunteers look like they’re here for the fun, while Mr. D looks like he’s taking it entirely seriously.

The competition begins with the men crossing in front of the stage and pool, doing silly poses, and showing off their legs. It’s all in good fun, even though Mr. D reminds me of a rooster as he parades in front of the judges.

Then, in an interesting turn of events, the host turns to the audience, where a group of people has gathered near the stage to watch. The host walks up to a woman who’s at the front of the audience.

Host: “Well, ma’am, it looks like you’re enjoying this competition.”

Lady: “You bet!”

Host: “However, as great as these guys are, not all of them can make it to the next round. Which of our contestants do you think should not make it to the next round?”

Lady: *Without skipping a beat* “Mr. D!”

Host: “Mr. D? Why did you pick him?”

Lady: “Because this is the sexy legs competition.”

Thoroughly defeated, Mr. D took his cue and left, his walk definitely showing that he had felt this rejection. All of us judges burst out laughing and applauding, but we were also a little jealous that this random lady got to say what we all wanted to.

A woman pushes past a customer I am about to serve and places a video game on the counter.

Customer: “How dare you sell this game to my son?!”

I see that the game in question has a cover that doesn’t hide the fact that a lot of violence and gore-soaked situations are present.

Me: “Yes, this is a zombie fighting game that’s rated M for mature content. I recall selling this to you and warning you about the violence.”

Customer: “I don’t give a s*** about that! You never told me that the game has gays in it! Gays! You should warn parents about that before you sell them to their impressionable young kids!”

Out of curiosity, I Googled the “gay” content of said game. One male character mentioned they had a husband in a cutscene. That was it. Nice to know that was the content that would damage her “impressionable” child and not the endless waves of zombie killing.

It’s Christmas, so shopping is always a bit frantic at this time of year. A frazzled-looking woman comes up to the counter.

Customer: “Can you tell me if you guys have Mario Kart for the PlayStation 5?”

Me: “Are you sure you don’t mean the Switch?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Is your console a tall white box with a black stripe, or a small pad with a screen?”

Customer: “Ugh, it’s a tall white box! My son said he wanted Mario Kart for the PS5. I’m sure you guys have it. Look it up.”

Me: “That game doesn’t exist. Nintendo makes the Switch and also owns the rights to Mario. There wouldn’t be a Mario Kart game for any other system other than a Nintendo-made one. Sony makes the PlayStation 5.”

Customer: “My son knows video games! What would some stupid teen know, anyway?!”

Me: “Okay, I’ll search our system.”

At this point, I fake-type on the computer.

Me: “Sorry, the system says the game doesn’t exist and you won’t find it in any of our stores.”

Customer: “You guys are idiots! How can my eight-year-old son know more than you do! I’ll take my business to [Other Video Game Store] where they are professionals!”

All my coworkers had a good laugh. If only I were as smart as her eight-year-old.

I am working at Blockbuster in the 1990s.

Customer: “I see you’re renting out the PlayStation?”

Me: “Yes, we’re renting out the whole system, but it needs a $200 deposit on your credit card.”

Customer: “Yeah, okay, I’ll do it.”

A week later, he returns it.

Me: “Okay, that’s all processed. You have a $200 balance on your account from the deposit you put down. Can I have your card to return it?”

Customer: *Angry, not giving me his card* “What?! Wipe that balance!”

I understand that the word “balance” gets confusing to some, so I explain.

Me: “Sir, when you rented the system, you had to put down a deposit, and now we owe you that money back.”

Customer: “I don’t owe anyone anything!”

And with that, he starts to storm out.

Customer: “I’m calling your corporate office!”

We never heard back, and I assume someone else was able to get the credit back to him.