Man: “I want to get a drink.”

Me: “Sure. We have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “I’ll have an orange soda.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we only have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “I’ll take fruit punch.”

Me: “No, we only have Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “Pink lemonade?”

Me: “It’s regular yellow. Is that okay?”

Man: “No, I’ll have the raspberry tea.”

Me: “It’s unsweetened.”

Man: “What kind of place is this?! Is there ANYTHING to drink here?”

Me: “YES! Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, lemonade, root beer, iced tea, shakes, or smoothies.”

Man: “I’ll just have a cup of ice.”

Me: “…”

(Our new drugstore is assigned a phone number that had previously belonged to the animal shelter. We ALWAYS answer the phone with our store name and hours, but people don’t always listen. This becomes annoying, but one of my coworkers likes to have fun with it.)

Caller: “Uh, yeah. I have this raccoon in my backyard.”

Coworker: “Hmm… that’s nice.”

Caller: “Yeah, well it seems to be acting strangely… like it’s crazy.”

Coworker: “What do you want me to do about it?”

Caller: “Well, you should do your job and come out and get rid of it! Isn’t that why I pay my taxes?”

Coworker: “Okay, then. Give me your address.”

Caller: *gives out address*

Coworker: “All right, after I close the drugstore I’ll be over with my shotgun around midnight. There will be a loud noise, so warn your neighbors. Since I don’t work for your taxes, just tape a $20 bill inside your mailbox, more if you want a fancy burial. Have a nice day!” *click*

(I was sitting at home watching TV. My phone number ends with, let’s say, -1269. The phone number for the bakery ends with -1296. I am constantly getting called by people who think I’m that bakery.)

Me: “Hello?”

Dude: “I need the bakery.”

Me: “I think you have the wrong number.”

Dude: “Oh, sorry.”

(He hangs up. Brief pause. Phone rings.)

Me: “Hello?”

Same Dude: “Can I get the bakery?”

Me: “You have the wrong number.”

(Dude hangs up. Phone rings.)

Me: “Hello?”

Same Dude: “I need the bakery.”

Me: “I think you should check the number… I don’t have a bakery department.”

Same Dude: “Well, you did this morning!”

Me: “I meant I’m not [bakery]. I’m just a person sitting at home.”

(Dude hangs up. Phone rings AGAIN. I glance skeptically at it and finally go over. I don’t say anything.)

Same Dude: “Hello?”

Me: *click*

(He called eight more times that evening. Eventually, I just told him we were closed.)

(A girl pulls up to a gas pump. I’m watching her through the window from behind the cash register as she removes the OUT OF ORDER BAG placed over the pump (clearly marked, bright yellow bag) and throws it in the trash next to her. She plays around with it for a while and then walks toward the door.)

Girl: “Your pumps aren’t working.”

Me: “Go back outside, pull the bag that you just threw away out of the trash and read it. That should solve the problem.”

(Note: I wasn’t actually an employee, I was just a regular customer walking around this store. A middle-aged woman walks up to me.)

Lady: “Excuse me, do you have any golf clubs?”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t work here.”

Lady: “But you look like you do…”

Me: “Sorry, no… all the employees here have red vests and tags that say [Store Name] on them.”

Lady: “But can you tell me where the golf clubs are?”

Me: “No, I don’t even live in this town. I am just looking around.”

Lady: “Well, you’re no help. I might as well look in the other store.” *walks away in a huffy mood*

Me: *loudly* “MAYBE IF YOU PAID ME, I’D HELP!”