Hot-Headed Cakes

, , , , , , | Right | March 21, 2019

(I work at a fast food place at a highway rest stop. Since our prices are higher than others of our kind, I usually tell customers certain combinations they can do to save money. This happens during one of my breakfast shifts. An elderly couple walks up to the counter.)

Me: “Hi, what can I get for you today?”

Husband: “Can I get [Breakfast Platter] but without the pancakes?”

Wife: “And I just want an order of pancakes.”

Me: “Okay, well, if you want to make it cheaper, we can just do the [Breakfast Platter] with the pancakes. That way, you can sav—“

Husband: “I don’t want pancakes. She does.”

Me: “Yes, but the end result would be the same. I could even tell them to plate it sep—“

Husband: “I don’t want the pancakes. She does.”

Wife: “He’s telling you that you can save money by—“

Husband: “I don’t want pancakes. We’ll do it like this.”

Me: “…Okay, then.”

(I rang them up and gave them their change. They left me standing there in utter confusion. I hope the guy realized he could have saved $4 and me a lot of headache.)

These Dreams Just Don’t Add Up

, , , , | Romantic | February 9, 2019

(My husband is absolutely not a morning person, rarely wakes to his alarms, and often talks quite clearly in his sleep. This conversation occurs when I try to wake him, after several other attempts, around 5:30 am. I have about an hour drive to work and we share one car, which he needs to use during my shift this day. Also — he absolutely hates math.)

Me: “[Husband], it’s time to get up. I’ve got to leave for work soon.”

Husband: “Okay. I’m awake.”

Me: “If you’re actually awake, you need to get out of bed.”

Husband: “I’m awake. Just a minute. We need to do math.”

Me: “…Math?”

Husband: “Yeah….”

(I leave him for a bit to make some coffee, then return to him snoring and try again.)

Me: “[Husband], are you going to wake up or just stay in bed doing math?”

Husband: *snapping awake* “Why the f*** would I do math?”

Driving To The Only Reasonable Conclusion

, , , | Romantic | February 8, 2019

(For about six months after an accident, my husband and I have one car, forcing a lot of coordination between our schedules. For the most part, this is fine because we both work from home, most of our outings are with mutual friends, and we usually go grocery shopping together anyway. One night, he is crawling in bed when this conversation occurs:)

Me: “How’s your project going?”

Husband: “I need to go to the hardware store tomorrow to finish it.”

Me: “Okay. Just remember, I need the car at 3:00 for a doctor’s appointment.”

Husband: “Okay. I’ll just go in the morning, then.”

(The next morning, he’s working on his project in the basement. I ask when he wants to go to the hardware store and he shrugs. I go back to my work, thinking he’ll come up shortly. Around 2:00 I hear him coming up the stairs.)

Husband: “Okay. I’m gonna get my shower and then head to the hardware store. Do you need anything?”

Me: “Uh… the car?”

Husband: “What? Why? I told you I need to go to the hardware store today. What are you doing?”

Me: “Going to the doctor.”

Husband: “Since when?”

Me: “Since I set the appointment six months ago. It’s a checkup.”

Husband: “You never told me about this! Now I have to wait longer?”

Me: “Or you could have gone this morning, like you said you would last night, or you can come along and take the car while I’m at the doctor’s office and pick me up after.”

Husband: “They’re not in the same part of town. That’s not— This is ridiculous.”

Me: *deadpan* “Yes. Yes, it is. If only we had already talked about this at a previous time, like last night getting into bed.”

Husband: “Well, I— Oh. We did.”

Me: “Mmhmm.”

Husband: “And I forgot.”

Me: “Mmhmm.”

Husband: “So, I guess I’ll drive you?”

Me: *kisses him on the cheek* “Thank you, darling.”

The Thirteenth Lobster

, , , , | Romantic | February 5, 2019

(My mother is reading in bed while my father sleeps, when he abruptly sits up.)

Dad: “How many are there?”

Mom: “…how many what?”

Dad: “Lobsters.”

Mom: *realizing he’s asleep and knowing how much he loves lobster* “Thirteen.”

Dad: “Well, get them off!”

Mom: “What?”

Dad: “Get. Them off. The BED!”

(He then lay down and went back to sleep. This was one of my mother’s favorite stories for years.)

Should Stop Giving Herself A Good Dressing Down

, , , , , | Right | January 2, 2014

(Being a big military town, it is fairly common to have women come into our bridal store to shop for military events like the yearly ball. A customer comes in with her husband.)

Customer: “I just had a baby and my body hasn’t quite bounced back yet.”

Husband: *rolls eyes* “Hun, you look great. Really. Please stop saying that.”

Customer: *ignoring husband* “But it is the annual ball, so I need to look nice. I was thinking of something in black, since black is slimming, but I’m not sure of my size at this point because of the baby.”

Me: “I would be happy to measure you but you look to be about a size 10. What did you have in mind for style?”

Customer: “Probably something very simple.”

(The customer walks through the non-bridal section with me to look over the styles and proceeds to pick every dress with NO shape she finds.)

Me: “Are you sure you don’t want to try on something with a little more shape to it? You have a better figure than you let on.”

Husband: “Yes. PLEASE!”

Customer: “No. These are fine. I mean, I really need to work out and flatten this pooch down.” *grabs stomach*

(The customer has literally grimaced at everything she has tried on, not liking anything. Her husband has tried desperately to explain how beautiful she is, while fidgeting in an armchair next to the fitting area.)

Me: *sigh* “Okay. Let me see what else we have.”

Customer: “Thanks. I know there’s only so much you can do.”

Me: *coming up with a plan* “Oh! We just got this dress in a couple days ago and I haven’t gotten to see it on anyone. Would you mind so much just trying it on and humoring me?”

(The dress is a mermaid cut halter dress, VERY Marilyn Monroe but floor length. Perfect for a woman with real curves.)

Customer: “Ooh, um, sure.”

(The customer smiles awkwardly, clearly not wanting to be rude and say ‘no.’ As she goes into the fitting room I look at her husband, wink, and smile. The customer walks out of the fitting room looking drop-dead 50s-goddess gorgeous.)

Customer: “I don’t kn—”

Husband: *knocks over chair jumping up* “THIS ONE! WE’LL TAKE THIS ONE!” *under his breath* “…and after the ball we can make a sibling for the baby.”

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