(We’re in the office cafeteria. There are over a dozen people there around one large table. It is one coworker’s birthday and a manager bought a cake. We’re all enjoying it and having fun.)

Director: “Are there… nuts in that cake?”

Manager: “Why? Are you allergic?”

Director: “Well, I have an intolerance to nuts.”

Manager: “Oh, darn! I didn’t know. I would have chosen a nut-free cake, having known.”

Director: “No sweat. I just won’t eat it.” *looks at his piece of cake from all possible angles*

(A coworker looks at the label.)

Coworker: “Yes, according to the label, there are nuts in it.”

Director: “Ah. Okay, then.”

(The director then takes a forkful of cake, shoves it in his mouth, and gets up. We all look on in disbelief.)

Manager: “Did… did he just take a mouthful of a cake he’s allergic to?”

Director: *walks to the nearest trash can and spits the cake out* “I didn’t swallow it; I just put it in my mouth to taste it.”

(He then leaves the cafeteria as if everything is normal, leaving us all dumbfounded.)

Coworker: “Anyone have an epi-pen nearby? Just in case?”

(We never heard of that manager feeling bad or anything.)

(I am about four years old and sitting in the back seat of my mom’s car as we drive somewhere. All of a sudden, I ask this gem.)

Me: “Mommy, what does ‘sex’ mean?”

(There is a long pause as my mom tries to figure out how to explain this to a four-year-old. Finally, she comes up with a response.)

Mom: “Well, why do you ask?”

Me: “Because there’s a piece of paper on the seat and it says, ‘Sex: M or F.’”

(Cue a sigh of relief from my mom.)

There’s a man who visits the thrift store where I volunteer somewhat regularly. He suffers from some kind of chronic sinus problem. He never says anything and usually doesn’t cause any problems, but one day he paid for his item with two dollars that were sopping wet and suspiciously slimy.

I didn’t notice until they were already in my hand, and I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I set them quickly in an empty slot in the drawer, but I felt nauseated for the rest of the day.

(A customer comes to the counter with three boxes of different medicines. I inspect them.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’ll only be able to sell two of these to you. This one should have the same effect and this one… I would recommend putting this one back.”

Customer: “Just sell me all of them.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Customer: *huffs* “Just put them through separately. The register should let you do it.”

Me: “No. I’m not legally allowed to sell you all three. It could be life-threatening if you take all of them at once.”

Customer: “No, it isn’t. I have a friend who mixes them all the time and chugs a load of vodka. Knocks her out for several hours. Great stuff!”

Me: “…”

Customer: “I… I shouldn’t have told you that?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “You’re refusing my service?”

Me: “I’m afraid so.”

Customer: *leaves looking utterly distraught*

(My coworker is a very nice guy, but he sometimes puts his foot in his mouth. Today he’s working the register and making small talk with the customers while I prepare the orders. He’s just handed off the cups for drinks to me when the customer asks how he’s doing today.)

Coworker: “Well, I’m doing all right, but I’m just getting over the flu.”

(The customer gets a deer-in-the-headlights look and freezes.)

Me: “And I’ll be the one making your food today.”