Depends What Part Of The Cow You Get

, , , , | Right | September 19, 2018

(We are working the drive-thru at dinner time, at a restaurant known for soups and sandwiches.)

Order Taker: “Thank you for choosing [Restaurant]. This is [Order Taker]. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “Can I get that steak and areola sandwich?”

(It took everything we had not to laugh!)

Veronica’s Secret Is Apparently Carbs

, , , , , | Related | September 16, 2018

(My mom, dad, and I are all out driving on a shopping trip. It should be noted that while my dad is intelligent, he’s never had much fondness for honing his reading skills.)

Dad: *glancing at passing storefronts* “Hmm, we should try out that new pasta place sometime.”

Mom: *confused* “What new pasta place?”

Dad: “Right there, with the big neon sign for their linguine!”

Me: “Um, Dad? That’s a ‘Lover’s Lane’ store, and the word on the sign is pronounced ‘lingerie’!”

Two Heads Are Better Than One

, , , , , , | Romantic | September 15, 2018

(I love my husband to pieces, but when he’s sleep-deprived, the absolute dumbest crap comes out of his mouth. Example: After working multiple night shifts as a police officer on an incredibly busy holiday weekend, he insists on coming with me to my first sonogram appointment instead of getting some much-needed rack time.)

Technician: “Okay, there’s your baby’s head! And… oh, my.”

Me: “What? What’s wrong?”

Technician: “Oh, there’s another one in there!”

Husband: *horrified* “Our baby has two heads?!”

Me: *forcing down the laughter* “No, honey, we’re having twins. I think I’m driving us home.”

Husband: *face firmly in palm* “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

H2-On Sale

, , , | Right | September 14, 2018

(An older couple enters the store looking for the bottled water that was on sale this week. I grab one of the ad papers and go over it with them.)

Me: “Looks like our store brand for $2.50, or [Brand] for $3.95 this week.”

Woman: “I don’t know what he wants. It’s for my handicapped son. He can’t come inside. Can I take this paper out to him?”

Me: “Sure.”

(We get a stack of ads, probably 20 times what we go through in a week; she could easily take it home with her and I won’t miss it. She takes the ad out, and I check to make sure the water was in stock, but we are out.)

Me: *to myself* “Well, this’ll be fun.”

(She comes back in to join her husband, and they find the water section, where I am waiting for them.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but if it was the [Brand] water you were looking for, it looks like we’re out.”

Woman: “This is ridiculous. How can you be out?”

Me: “Well… our vendor hasn’t come yet to deliver—”

Woman: “You know, this happens every time we come to one of your stores. I might as well switch to somewhere else. What about the tea that’s on sale? You got that?”

Me: “Yes, we do, right over here.” *points it out*

Woman: “Well, at least you’ve got that.” *continues muttering about being out of water everywhere, while we go to the register* “And I guess it would be impossible for you to call ahead to the other store to see if they have that water before I waste a trip all the way out there, huh?”

Me: “Not at all. Just let me run back and find their number, and I’ll go ahead and give them a call for you.”

(I do that, and check the couple out at the same time. The other store doesn’t have the water in stock, either.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but it sounds like they’re out of [Brand], too.”

Woman: *really angry and annoyed sigh* “I know, it’s not your fault it’s out of stock. I’ll just have to tell my handicapped son you don’t have it. The water’s for him. I don’t drink water. That stuff will kill you.”

So Much For Midwestern Hospitality

, , , , , | Friendly | September 13, 2018

(I’ve just moved to the Midwest to be closer to family. I graduated from a university in a southern state a few months prior. A couple days after I arrive, I have to go run some errands. Since most of my clothes are in the moving truck that has yet to arrive, I throw on a [University] sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. I’m at the grocery store when an older man walks up to me.)

Man: “Young lady!”

Me: *startled* “Yes?”

Man: “You shouldn’t wear that.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Man: “You shouldn’t wear that!

(He gestures at my sweatshirt. I look down to check for stains or rips, thinking I may have missed something while getting dressed. I find none.)

Me: “Why?”

Man: “You are in Illinois, not the South. Show some local pride.”

(I have a slight Southern accent, which I can turn into a full-on drawl on command.)

Me: *with a smile and full drawl* “What I wear is none of y’all’s business. I’ll wear this as much as I please. Now, kindly leave me alone.”

(The man huffs and walks away, muttering about “those people.” And that was my first introduction to small Midwestern towns.)

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