(I’m at the mall. I just bought myself an ice cream cone and I sit down to enjoy it. As I’m licking it, a random man walks by, stops, stares at me for a moment and smiles.)

Man: “I like the way you lick that, miss.”

(I sink in on myself, embarrassed. An old woman nearby who watched the entire exchange walks over and begins smacking the man over the head with her giant purse.)

Old Woman: “STOP—” *smack* “SEXUALIZING—” *smack* “ICE CREAM!”

Man: “Grandma, stop it!”

Old Woman: “I raised you better than this!”

(The old woman dragged the man away, still chastising him. I went off to find a quiet area to finish my cone.)

(An old man walks up to the counter at about midnight with a big bag of chocolate.)

Customer: “Had to get these for the wife.”

Me: “Oh, how sweet of you!”

Customer: “Oh, well, she just craves chocolate every time we have sex. And we just ran out, so she made me come get more!”

Me: “Oh… Uh… Okay.”

(I finish the transaction in silence.)

Me: “Have a good night!”

Customer: “I already did!”

Me: “Clearly.”

(I’m an organizer for a city council campaign. A new volunteer has come in for the first time and I am training her on how to make phone calls. I sit with her while she makes a few calls, and then ask her how she thinks everything is going. Keep in mind, this is a very sweet woman in at least in her late 70s.)

Volunteer: “You know, every time my husband or I get calls like this we always immediately tell them to f*** right off, but it is a lot of fun being on the other side of them!”

(I have been getting letters and sign-up information from a particular retirement group about things to do when I retire, and about putting assets in the correct places. They are coming more and more frequently and getting almost spam-like. Sign-up age starts at 65.)

Customer Service Rep: “Good morning! Thank you for calling [Retirement Group]. Can I have your account number and reason for calling?”

Me: “Yes, hi. I don’t have an account.”

Customer Service Rep: “No problem! I will be happy to sign you up for our great benefits and services. What is your name and address?”

Me: “No, you don’t understand. I don’t want to sign up; I would like to stop receiving emails and letters from you about retirement.”

Customer Service Rep: “I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask the reason you do not wish to receive the information, which can help you in your later years?”

Me: “Because I am 25 years old. I have no wish to retire soon.”

Customer Service Rep: “Oh… How did you get signed up for [Retirement Group]?”

Me: “You tell me!”

(My first job is at a tourist-trap antique store selling overpriced nostalgic items. I am manning the register. Today, I woke up late, so my hair is a mess and I am wearing the first thing I could find to wear: a band t-shirt with a button-up flannel. An elderly woman from out of town comes up to the counter with her small items.)

Me: “Hi, how are you today?”

Customer: “Oh, just dandy. Enjoying the weather.”

(I write down her items, ring her up, and give her her total, when I realize she’s looking me over pretty good.)

Customer: “Do you know where I could get some pot?”

(I can’t help but give her a blank stare and question whether I heard her right the first time.)

Me: “I’m sorry… What?”

Customer: “Pot? Marijuana? That kind of pot? You seem like you would know.”

(Dumbfounded, I remember how I might appear to someone who doesn’t know me or see me regularly. I always dress better for work, and I most certainly do not smoke pot. But I know I must look like it from a first impression. Our town even set up a ban on dispensaries a while back; the nearest one is the next town over. I still can not believe that this sweet old woman buying little trinkets needs some dope.)

Me: “Um… No, we don’t have any dispensaries nearby, miss.”

Customer: “Do you have a dealer that you could maybe call?”

Me: “No, miss. This is not my everyday look; I don’t smoke pot.”

Customer: “Oh, darn. Well, you have a nice day, dear!”

(I had to take my lunch break after that.)