Customer: “Hi, I’m planning to stay here for a few days and just wanted to find out whether I can bring pets.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but our hotel has a strict no pet policy.”

Customer: “So, I can’t bring my dog?”

Me: “No, I’m afraid not.”

Customer: “But it’s tiny, doesn’t shed, and I guarantee I’ll always let it out in time.”

Me: “No, I’m sorry.”

Customer: “What about my cat?”

Me: “No pets, sir.”

Customer: “All right, fine.” *stands around for several moments* “So my wife can bring her hamster, right?”

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(I’m twelve and helping out at my grandparents’ farm. My three-year-old cousin has been playing too close the driveway, so I carry him while ringing up customers.)

Customer: “Dear, your son is just darling. Absolutely adorable!”

Me: “Thank you, ma’am, but this is my cousin.”

Customer: “Nonsense, he looks exactly like you! Well, if you were a boy, but EXACTLY like you.”

(I have curly dark hair, and he has straight blond hair, and that’s just the beginning of the differences.)

Me: “I don’t think–”

Customer: “EXACTLY like you.

Me: “I’m sorry, but–”

Customer: “EXACTLY. LIKE. YOU.”

Me: “If you say–”

Customer: “EXACTLY.”

Me: “…that’ll be $35.”

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Me: “Good afternoon, [Music Store].”

Caller: “Hi, I’m looking for sheet music to a song called ‘Beautiful Star of Bethlehem’.”

Me: “I don’t think we have it in stock, but we might be able to order it for you. ”

Caller: “Can you deliver it to me?”

Me: “Sorry, we don’t offer that service. How about I give you a website to go to? You can probably order it from them and have it shipped to your home?”

Caller: “Okay, what’s the website?”

Me: “Sheetmusicplus.com.”

Caller: “Sheetmusic.com?”

Me: “No, Sheetmusicplus.com.”

Caller: “Oh, Sheetmusic.com?”

Me: “No, SheetmusicPLUS.com.”

Caller: “Oh, okay. Sheetmusic.com.”

Me: “No. SheetmusicPLUS.com.”

Caller: “How do you spell that?”

Me: *I spell it out*

Caller: “P-O-U-S?”

Me: “No, P-L-U-S.”

Caller: “Oh, P-O-U-S?”

Me: “No, P-L-U-S.”

Caller: “Okay, P-O-U-S.”

Me: “No. L as in Larry.”

Caller: “Okay, P-O-U-S.”

Me: “No, P-L-U-S.”

Caller: “How do you spell ‘com’?”

Me: “C-O-M.”

Caller: “C-L-N?”

Me: “No, C-O-M.”

Caller: “Okay, Sheetmusic.com. Thank you very much! Goodbye!” *hangs up*

(I work airport security. The metal detectors choose random people for additional screening. On the screen, it will tell us if it’s an actual alarm or random. The alert beep sounds almost identical to the metal alarm one. A lady walks through and the machine chooses her for random screening.)

Me: “Hello, bonjour, miss. You’ve been chosen for additional screening.”

Lady: *not listening* “Oh, I don’t think I have any metal.”

Me: “No, the metal detector chose you for random screening.”

Lady: *still not listening* “I don’t think it’s my shoes; I’ve worn them through before.”

Me: “No, it’s random.”

Lady: *still not listening* “I don’t have anything in my pockets.”

Me: “It’s random selection.”

Lady: “Maybe if I try—” *suddenly stops, clueing in* “Oh! Maybe if I listened; I’d like the scanner, please!”

Me: “All right, your cast is on nice and secure. It should heal within four to six weeks.”

Patient: “Really? Only four to six minutes?”

Me: “No, four to six weeks.”

Patient: “Okay, four to six minutes.”

Me: “Sir, it’s impossible for it to heal within four to six minutes. It takes about four to six weeks.”

Patient: “Oh, all right.”

(I turn around to fill out his form. When I turn back around, he has taken off his cast.)

Me: “Sir, why did you take off your cast?!”

Patient: “Well, you said it heals within four to six minutes, but you said it was too short. I waited seven minutes… but it still hurts.”

Me: “Sir, your arm is still broken. Four to six weeks is around a month and a half.”

Patient: “Well, why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?! A month and a half is five weeks! Why did you say four to six minutes?”

Me: “I never said…” *I pause and compose myself* “…Okay, nevermind. Let’s put on a new cast.”

Patient: “Oooh! Can I have a pink one?”

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