(I’m working the counter at a popular fast food chain. A lot of times we have elderly people come in from nearby retirement or nursing homes, often with a list of things to bring back. Today an elderly gentleman comes in with one of such lists.)

Me: “Hi there! Is this for here or to go?”

Customer: “Hello. This will be to go.” *places coupon on counter* “I would like to use this twice, please.”

(I check and see that it is a 2-for-$5 chicken sandwiches coupon. For these coupons, we need to input which sandwiches the customer wants before continuing on with the order.)

Me: “Okay! Do you—”

Customer: *continuing on* “—and I would also like.”

Me: “Actually, sir, I need to know which sandwiches you would like.”

Customer: “Oh. The chicken sandwiches.”

Me: “Yes, I know. But which chicken sandwiches would you like?”

Customer: “I would just like four chicken sandwiches.”

Me: *seeing he’s holding a piece of paper in hand and assuming it’s a list* “Do you have a list I can look at?”

Customer: *lifts up the paper and places it in front of me* “Well, my wife told me she wants four chicken sandwiches, a small fry, and two drinks.”

(I read over the short list. Indeed, it says, “four chicken sandwiches,” but not which kind.)

Me: “Okay, I’ve got the fry and the drinks. But which chicken sandwiches would you like for the coupon? We have three to choose from.” *points them out on the board* “We have [chicken sandwich #1], [chicken sandwich #2], or [chicken sandwich #3].”

Customer: “Oh. I just would like four chicken sandwiches.”

(I’m struggling at this point to keep my customer service smile in place.)

Me: “We have different kinds of chicken sandwiches, sir.”

Customer: “Do you?” *looks at the board again* “Oh. Well, just give me the best one.”

Me: *ascends to another plane of existence*

(I ended up giving him two of [chicken sandwich #1] and two of [chicken sandwich #3]. He and his wife must have liked them, because I saw them a few days later ordering the same sandwiches again!)

(This takes place many years ago. My great-grandmother is in court to become a US citizen, when this happens.)

Judge: “What are the three branches of government?”

Great-Grandmother: “Executive, Legislative, and Jewish.”

Judge: “You’re Jewish?”

Great-Grandmother: “Yeah.”

Judge: “Do you know how to make blintzes?”

Great-Grandmother: “Yes, of course.”

Judge: “My wife tries to make them, but they always fall apart. What should she do differently?”

Great-Grandmother: *gives blintz-making advice that sadly has been lost to time*

Judge: “I’m approving your citizenship application. Congratulations.”

(As my grandmother has gotten older, her memory has unfortunately started to get worse. Whenever I visit, I ask her to tell me family stories or look with me through memorabilia she’s collected throughout her life. This is to help jog her memory, but also so I can write things down I think the rest of the family would like to remember. One day, we’re looking through a photo album together, and we come across a photo of my grandfather in his Army uniform.)

Me: “Wasn’t Grandpa so handsome?!”

Grandma: “Oh, yes! This was the picture he gave me before he left to fight in WWII.”

(We flip a few more pages, and a wallet-sized photo drops out from between two pages. I pick it up, and it’s of another young man I don’t recognize, dressed in a Navy uniform.)

Me: “Grandma, who is this? Is this Grandpa’s brother?”

Grandma: *squints at the picture* “I haven’t seen that in years! That was [Man]. He was a Navy man, you see?”

Me: “Was he a friend of yours and Grandpa’s?”

Grandma: “Sort of. He was the other young man I was dating at the time.”

Me: *trying not to sound too surprised* “What?!”

Grandma: *shrugs* “You know, girls always dated more than one fella back then, unless someone asked us to go steady. It was very casual. Why you young folks want to go steady with someone you’ve only had one date with is beyond me.”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “I’m assuming [Man] went to fight in the war, too?”

Grandma: *sighs* “Yes, he left right after your grandpa did.”

Me: “So, what made you choose Grandpa in the end?”

Grandma: “Hmm? Oh, because he came back first.”

Me: *now I’m losing it* “Grandma! That’s the only reason?”

(She just smiled at me before putting the Navy beau’s picture back in the album and going to make us some tea. While I hope this other man made it safely back from the war and lived a full life, I’m also grateful she chose my grandpa because, you know, I’m alive thanks to that decision. Funny how life works, isn’t it?)

(My company does a variety of social service work, including homes for the elderly. It recently changed its name, and not all of our residents are happy about it. I am assigned to a booth handing out shirts, water bottles, and stickers with our new name to residents and visitors. Most people take the offered loot — old people love free stuff. But not everyone…)

Me: “Would you like a [New Company Name] t-shirt or water bottle? They’re free!”

Tiny Old Lady: *looks like a sweet grandma* “[New Company Name] isn’t my home. I didn’t move to [New Company Name]. I moved to [Old Company Name]. This is f****** bulls***, and I want no part of it.”

(I found a water bottle and some office swag with the old name on it and left them in her mailbox. I just wish I could have had her talk to the executives in charge of renaming.)

I broke my phone, so I made a Facebook post letting my friends and family know that I would not be able to use my phone.

My best friend is pregnant, so she left a message telling me she would call my job when she went into labor so that I could get to the hospital. I replied to message me on Facebook first, and then call my job if I didn’t respond.

My grandma commented right under that, “Can I contact you through Facebook?”

…on Facebook.