(A woman and two small children come up to the counter with a cardboard box.)

Woman: “Hello. My children found this turtle in a nearby pond and I want to know how to take care of it.”

Me: “I normally recommend leaving wild animals where they are.”

Woman: “They really want to keep him. Will you help us or not?”

Me: *groaning internally* “Okay, let me get a look at the little guy.”

Woman: *removes the lid* “What do you suggest?”

Me: “Yeah, you’re going to want to put him back.”

Woman: “What? My boys are attached to him and you want me to take him away from them?!”

Me: “That’s a snapping turtle. He’s going to move from feeder fish to fingers really fast.”

Woman: “Any recommendations on where to release him?”

Coworker: “When’s Good Friday in Canada?”

Me: “April 14.”

Coworker: “No, but in Canada.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “They have a different Thanksgiving than us, so they probably have a different Good Friday.”

Me: “Are you high?”

Coworker: “Why, is it obvious?”

(I work in a pet store. I have just clocked in and am a little out of it, when I spot a woman in the rawhide section looking confused.)

Me: “Hello, did you need help finding anything?”

Customer: “Yes, did you stop carrying cow hooves? I can’t find any.”

Me: *reaching into a bin next to us* “You mean these?”

Customer: “No, those are beef hooves. I’m looking for cow hooves, but all I can find are beef hooves!”

Me: *struggling to keep it together* “I assure you, these are cow hooves. They’re the same thing.”

Customer: “Well, all right.”

(She bought one, but I still don’t think she was convinced.)

(I am a manager at a store in a small town. I’m running a register because one of my cashiers is on break and we’ve suddenly hit a rush. My customers are a husband and wife.)

Me: “The total is [amount].”

Wife: *hands me the bills and turns to her husband* “Do you have the change? I left my purse in the car.”

Husband: “I don’t have any change.”

Wife: “I need the change. I don’t have anything on me but big bills.”

Husband: “I don’t have any change. I don’t have any pockets. I’m in my boxers.”

(The comment startled me and I found myself glancing at what I had previously thought were the man’s shorts. Sure enough, they were, in fact, only boxers. I offered to cover the change, just to get them out of there before any “incident” occurred.)

(After working in a theater for so long, I’ve grown accustomed to parents dragging their kids along to movies that would be considered inappropriate, but unless it’s rated NC-17 or has no rating at all, the most we can do is warn them. Every now and then, I’m thrown for a loop.)

Customer: “Excuse me. I was wondering if you could tell me why The Muppets has a PG rating.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, I saw the movie myself, and the only reason I can think of is that there’s some mildly crude humor.”

Customer: “I have some of my friend’s kids with me. Are you sure it’s okay for them to watch?”

Me: *surprised* “Um… Yes?”