(I work in production for an extremely popular radio station; however, I occasionally fill in different roles when people are sick. On this particular day, I work production on the breakfast show, then answer phone calls at reception. This call comes through on the complaints line.)

Me: “Good morning. You’ve reached [Radio Station]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes. I would like to put in a complaint.”

Me: “Sorry to hear that, sir. What would you like to complain about?”

Customer: “I was listening to your breakfast show, and I am horrified by the language you use at that time of morning!”

(I’m confused, because I listened to the entire show while producing.)

Me: “May I ask what was said?”

Customer: “’Breasts.’”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Customer: “Your announcers were talking about some disease and they said it… AT 7:30 IN THE MORNING!”

Me: “Sir, the disease they were talking about was breast cancer.”

Customer: “I don’t care what they were talking about! It shouldn’t be said on-air.”

Me: “’Breast’ is the biological term for that area of the body.”

Customer: “Stop making excuses!”

Me: “Well, what would you prefer they be called?”

(The customer thinks for a moment.)

Customer: “Boobies.”

(I laughed so hard I had to hang up on him.)

(I’m at a music summer camp. While leaving one of the nightly concerts, I see a girl, who I recognize as a French horn player from my orchestra program, on the ground, and a staff member next to her. I quickly realize that she is injured. As I’m walking over to ask if she’s okay, I hear her listing where she’s hurt.)

Girl: “Both knees… uhh… oh! And my elbow.”

(The staff member next to her shines her phone’s flashlight around, and I see that her knees are both scraped and bleeding. I don’t see her elbow.)

Me: *reaching her* “Hey, are you okay?”

Girl: “Ah, yeah! …Probably.”

(Seeing my discomfort with that answer, she proceeds to wiggle her fingers and put weight on her left hand, then looks back up at me.)

Girl: “Oh, yeah, I can still play.”

(Note that she didn’t check her knees at all or mention how she was, outside of playing horn. Well, good to know she had her priorities straight.)

(My mom is suffering from a terrible cold. We’re both in the kitchen. She goes to get a cup of water and is very careful to only touch the cup she’s going to use.)

Mom: “I don’t want to touch anything I don’t have to. I’m afraid I’m infecting everything I touch.”

Me: *laughs*

Mom: “What?”

Me: “I was just imagining two viruses re-enacting that scene from The Lion King. ‘Look, Simba. Everything that woman touches is our kingdom.’”

Mom: “You are one strange cookie.”

(I am five years old at this time. I have had trouble breathing, and so my mom takes me to the ER. Note that she is a nurse.)

Doctor #1: “What seems to be the problem?”

Mom: “She can’t breathe, and some of her symptoms are matching up to asthma.”

(The doctor examines me.)

Mom: “What is it?”

Doctor #1: “She’s fine. You can just take her home.”

Mom: “What? No! Look at her. Do you think she’s fine? I’m a nurse, and I can tell that this is asthma.”

Doctor #1: “Ma’am, I am part of the board of Asthma Awareness. She is fine.”

Mom: “No, she is not. If you will not listen to me, then I demand to see another doctor.”

Doctor #1: “Ugh. Fine.”

(My mom overhears this:)

Doctor #1: “[Doctor #2] We have one of THOSE moms in there. Just patiently listen to her and send her away.”

Doctor #2: *walks in and looks at me* “Oh my gosh! She needs to go to the ICU.”

(I went to the ICU. I made a full recovery, and my asthma was well controlled after I was diagnosed.)

(My sister is a counter manager in a department store for a mid-level makeup brand. One day, a customer comes in to return an anti-aging serum.)

Customer: “I need to return this. It’s making me sick.”

Sister: “Do you mean it’s causing a rash?”

Customer: “No, it’s making me physically ill!”

Sister: *now really confused* “Are you having an allergic reaction?”

Customer: “No, I get sick to my stomach every time I take it!”

Sister: “What do you mean, ‘when you take it’? How are you using this?”

(It turned out the customer had been SWALLOWING the serum. The directions for use on the bottle clearly said to rub a couple drops of it into one’s face, but she skipped the reading part, saw the medicine dropper attached to the cap used to measure it out, and decided that meant it was to be swallowed. She had been ingesting this serum twice a day for a couple of weeks before she’d had enough, because it wasn’t fixing her wrinkles!)