(I have IBS and it means that occasionally, my stomach inflates like a balloon when I eat. Normally, it’s just uncomfortable and I get to spend a lot of time in the bathroom while no one bothers me. Other times…)
Customer: *puts her hand on my big IBS stomach* “Are you having a boy or a girl?”
Me: *deadpan* “Actually, I’m having a burrito.”
(And then I farted on command.)
(I’m serving a woman and her boyfriend. The boyfriend has ordered and is playing on his phone while the woman orders.)
Woman: “I want a [burger] but no tomato. I’m allergic. No tomato anywhere near it.”
Me: “Okay, no problem. I will tell the cook. Oh, and I can tell him to leave off the [sauce] also.”
Woman: “No. Why would you do that?”
Me: “Well, [sauce] is made with a ketchup base.”
(The woman gives me a blank stare.)
Me: “Ketchup is made with tomato. You said you are allergic. I thought you would want me to remove all the tomato products.”
(The woman stammers a little, and the boyfriend bursts out laughing.)
Boyfriend: “No, she ain’t allergic; she just doesn’t like them.”
Me: *managing not to laugh* “Okay, no problem. I’ll let my cook know to leave the tomatoes off. Your total is [total].”
(The couple paid, got their cups, and walked to the beverage bar to fill them. I could hear them arguing the whole time. I had to duck around the corner so they couldn’t see me laugh.)
(My dad and I have ordered pizza for takeout and are waiting to pick it up when a man comes in and goes straight to the cashier.)
Customer: “Excuse me. I ordered a vegetarian pizza with marinara sauce but no tomatoes, and it came with tomatoes on it.”
Cashier: “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get that fixed for you right away.”
Customer: “No, no, no. It’s no problem really but I just want to tell you that tomatoes can be an allergen. Now, I’m not allergic, but some people might be, so just be careful next time.”
(The man then leaves the shop.)
Me: *to my dad* “You know, if I was allergic to tomatoes, I probably wouldn’t be ordering a pizza with marinara sauce on it.”
(My boyfriend and I have been together for five years, and we both chose independently before we even met that neither of us wants biological children. I recently started a new job, and out of about 90 employees I am one of two that has no children, and three of my coworkers are actively pregnant. After I’ve been there for a month, we hire another person who is pregnant. I tell my boyfriend about the new hire after her first day.)
Me: “We got someone new today, [New Coworker].”
Boyfriend: “Oh, neat. How is she?”
Me: “She’s so nice! And heavily pregnant.”
Boyfriend: *laughs* “Not regularly pregnant? She’s ‘heavily’ pregnant, specifically?”
Me: *laughs* “Very specifically. She’s due on [date about two months ahead]. But she has a small frame, so she looks huge.”
Boyfriend: “Didn’t you say someone else has that due date, too?”
Me: “Yup! [Coworker #1]. And [Coworker #2] just went on maternity; her baby is due this weekend. Plus, [Coworker #3] is gonna pop in the next couple of weeks. I’m surprised she hasn’t left already.”
Boyfriend: “Jesus, that’s so many pregnant people in one spot.”
Me: *in a goofy “spooky” voice* “They’re communicating… and gathering.”
(He gives me a funny look at this point, so I say:)
Me: “What? What’s that face for?”
Boyfriend: “Don’t get any big ideas, now.”
Me: *pointing to my head* “Hey, it’s not this part of me that you need to tell that to! You need to tell this* part of me!” *pointing at my lower tummy*
(He bends over and puts his ear to my stomach, and pokes me.)
Boyfriend: “Don’t go getting any big, hormonal ideas!”
Me: “You know, it does take at least two people to make a pregnancy happen; don’t put all this on me.”
(He thinks for a second, and then pulls back and points accusingly at his own groin.)
Boyfriend: “Don’t you dare to get any big ideas, mister!”
(I am sixteen and have just started my first job. When I was 13, I was found to have thyroid cancer. I had it operated on twice, and because of this, it left a very brash scar. To prevent people from seeing it, I wear a scarf I made myself. Despite it looking out of place, especially in Texas weather, I feel it keeps people at bay from prying about what’s underneath. I am ringing in a woman with a rather large cart filled with items.)
Me: “Hello! Did you find everything?”
Customer: *seems very hesitant* “Yeah, thanks…”
(I finish ringing everything up without another word from her.)
Me: “All right, your total is $221.34. Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”
(She just shakes her head while rummaging through her purse, and I continue on with my work, assuming she’s just had a bad day or such.)
Me: “All righty, then! Will that be cash or credit?”
(She looks up at me scoldingly from her purse, and I am taken aback as I think I’ve been nice this entire time.)
Customer: *pulls out credit card* “Credit.”
Me: “Okay, just slide it in the card reader in front of you.”
Customer: *slides card through and signs reader*
Me: “Seems everything’s gone through smoothly. Would you like a receipt?”
Customer: “Why do you wear that?”
(I print out the receipt in an effort to dodge the question, which, despite the fact I’m asked it every once in a while, I hate having to answer, so much so that my friends usually answer with a lie for me.)
Customer: “Are you stupid? Why. Do. You. Wear that?”
Me: *getting nervous and uncomfortable* “Thank you for shopping with us!”
(She then leans over the counter and quickly grabs my scarf’s base right by my neck, making me give a slight scream in terror as I’m jolted forward. She continues to try and undo it, but due to its length, it just gets more and more tangled and tighter around my neck. I’m putting up a pretty big struggle, but she has me pulled over the counter so I’m obviously losing. It doesn’t take long for my manager to notice, and he rushes to me quickly and tries pulling her off of me with the help of my coworker and a few customers. Once she’s finally off, my manager calls the cops and she’s taken away. I’m asked if I’d like to press charges for assault, but lucky for her, I decline. I’m sitting against the wall, having redone my scarf and trying to catch my breath; this is the first time anything like this had ever happened. My coworker comes and sits by me. I have a tendency to make jokes out of bad situations.)
Coworker: “You okay? That looked kind of scary.”
Me: “Are you kidding?! It scared the daylights out of me! I thought I was going to die in the middle of a grocery store!” *laughs*
Coworker: “Well, I’m glad you’re not hurt; if you died you couldn’t go see a movie with me next Saturday.”
(I did quit that job, despite my love for my coworkers and manager, in the end. And yes, my coworker — now boyfriend — and I did see that movie together. He also bought me a new, shorter, scarf, which is now an annual thing for him to get me on our anniversary. I have never been happier.)
