(I go to a Catholic high school, and we have a couple of awesome priests who are science teachers. These teachers have some sodium metal — which explodes on contact with water — for demonstration purposes, but decide that it is probably getting too old to keep around, so they decide to get rid of it. One night it is absolutely pouring rain, and there are some huge puddles in the parking lot, which is under reconstruction. This seems like the perfect opportunity, and so the two of them have a marvelous time chucking pieces of sodium into the puddles and listening to the boom. Unfortunately, someone nearby hears the boom and thinks someone is doing something unsavory, and calls the police. When they realize the police are heading to them, one of them goes in and quickly puts on his priest collar. When they greet the cops, the following exchange occurs.)

Cop: “Sorry to disturb you Father, but the neighbors reported hearing something like an explosion over here. Have you heard anything?”

Priest: “We didn’t hear anything unexpected, officer!”

Cop: “Okay, sorry to bother you. Must be a false alarm.”

(The priests thanked them for stopping by and somehow kept straight faces through it all. It was totally the truth, though; they completely expected to hear explosions!)

(My husband and I are returning to our apartment after picking up some dinner when a large dog runs up the car. We park and get out of the car with the dog jumping up on us excitedly. We see someone standing there watching from in front of the apartment building’s security door.)

Husband: “Is this your dog?”

Random Guy: “No.”

Husband: *trying to calm dog down* “Let’s see your tag, girl…”

(The dog has a very chewed-up, plastic tag on her collar, listing a number. He goes to call on his cell phone while I try to keep the dog calm and with us, as she keeps racing around and I’m afraid she’ll run off.)

Husband: “I’m on hold.”

(Five minutes later.)

Husband: “I’m still on hold.”

(A few more minutes later:)

Husband: “Hello. I found this strange dog running around our street and— Okay, I’ll get a pen.” *writes down number*

Me: “What’s up?”

Husband: “The number on the tag is the tag’s manufacturer. They sold it to [Local Vet Clinic]. They’re giving me the clinic’s number so I can call them to get the owner’s number.”

(He then dials the vet clinic, who puts him on hold for another five minutes before looking up the owner’s number. Keep in mind we’ve got a rambunctious, strange dog and it is below freezing outside where we are.)

Husband: *on phone* “Hello, I’ve found a— The phone disconnected.”

(He redials and get’s the owner’s voicemail. During this, the dog is getting more and more impatient, and she suddenly lunges at me, jaws open. I freak a bit and let go of her collar, and she takes off running.)

Husband: *on phone* “Hello. I think I found your dog at [Street]; please give me a call back.”

(He hangs up and sees that the dog has run off.)

Husband: “You want to look for her?”

Me: “Yeah… It’s freezing out and I’ll worry all night if we don’t try. Did the clinic give you her address?”

Husband: “Yeah, it’s only a few blocks from here; let’s start looking that way.”

(We troop along that way, and after a block or two the dog comes back bounding up to us. This time both of us grab her collar, and my husband tries calling the owner again and again. No one picks up. Finally we get to the dog’s supposed address. The lights are all on, and the door is open, although the screen door is shut and locked. We knock, no answer. We knock again, loudly. No answer. Pissed off by now, we start loudly yelling into the house, “Anyone home? Anyone here lose a dog?” Finally, a middle-aged woman comes and opens the door and stares at us.)

Me: “Um, is this your dog?”

Woman: “Oh. Yeah. My kids let her out. My daughter is out looking for her.”

(She abruptly grabs the dog and disappears back into the house.)

Me: “Wow. You’re welcome I guess.”

(We walked home to our very cold dinner, happy we found the dog’s home, and incredibly annoyed at the owners.)

My first job was at a local fast food joint famous for its hand-scooped shakes. Out of everything on our menu, it was one of the more expensive items.

One day when I was fresh out of training, my manager was standing next to me when a male customer came in. He ordered food and a shake and was entirely normal up until I handed him back his card. That’s when he suddenly narrowed his eyes at me, pointed, and said, “You no make shake,” before walking away.

I looked at my manager, confused. She rolled her eyes and told me to make it, anyway, because she was busy. I went behind the counter out of sight and made it for him, all while he kept trying to peek around the counter.

I handed him his shake with a smile and he stared at it, then at me, and then slowly, without making eye contact, backed halfway across the room to a trash can, lifted one eyebrow pointedly at me, and dropped the shake into the trash before leaving… without the rest of his food.

My manager and I just stood there staring, dumbstruck, at the guy, before my manager shrugged. “Oh, well. His $5.”

We never saw him again, and it wasn’t my worst tale at that horrible store, but it was definitely the weirdest!

(We have a customer who I see come in to the store about once a month or two. It’s always for the same thing; an order that was cancelled, because they failed to come in and pay within the allotted time. Today is almost no different, but the customer’s attitude is certainly no different this time around. The customer comes up to my register.)

Customer: “Hi, I need to pay an order I made online.”

Me: “Certainly, let me-“ (I skim the page) “Sir, this paper doesn’t have an order number. Do you have one?”

Customer: “What? No, I just made the order and printed it up.”

Me: “Okay, but did you happen to write down the order number? I have nothing to go by here.”

Customer: “No, can’t you look it up under my name?”

Me: “We can’t. Let me try a telephone number.”

Customer: “[Telephone Number].”

Me: “Nope. Still nothing. When did you place the order?”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. Two days ago!”

Me: “Okay, online may have kicked your order out of the system. Let me check with a manager and then the backroom.”

(I call for a manger, and ring up a few customers while I wait. No one shows up, and I decide to go to the backroom right away to find the order. I cannot locate the customer’s order due to it most likely being cancelled by online. Note: The same exact thing with the same exact customer has happened twice already this year, and even more last year. I consult a manager, find out we have more in back, and the manager allows me to re-ring it for the price. I return to my register and the customer.)

Me: “Sorry, sir. Looks like I will have to re-ring it, because online cancelled the order. Don’t worry though; it won’t take but a minute.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I have been waiting here twenty minutes.”

Me: “Sir, I understand-“

Customer: “Every time I come in to pay for an order, it winds up being cancelled. I order online to bypass you sales people.”

(I re-ring the order, ignoring the customer’s whining and grumbling, and walk with them to the waiting area for pickup. I go to the back and tell my coworker the customer’s order is all set.)

Me: (walking back out to the customer) “They will be with you shortly.”

Customer: “Thank you.”

Coworker: (upon my return to the register) “What was all that about?”

Me: “Oh, don’t even ask.”

(After work, I have to head to the post office to pick up a package. There is a counter at my post office specifically for people to pick up packages, registered mail, etc. I am a few customers in, and we’re waiting while the person working the counter is in the back room. She comes out, and comes up to the counter, talking to [Customer #1].)

Post Office: “I’m sorry, but like I said, we don’t have your packages.”

Customer #1: *clearly irritated* “Well, look again! I need those packages! One of them is for my son!“

(The post office lady just rolls her eyes and agrees to look in the back room for what seems to be a least the third time. There are collective groans in the line, as it’s clear this has been going on for a while. The post office lady comes back a couple of minutes later.)

Post Office: “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t see anything, and according to the computer, this stuff was picked up a few days ago.”

Customer #1: “That can’t be right! Hold on. I’m going to call my wife and prove it!”

(He makes a big show of taking his cell phone out, phoning his wife, and putting the call on speaker phone.)

Customer #1: “I’m here at the post office now, and she claims they don’t have either of the packages!”

Wife: “Why would they? [Customer #1], you picked those up on Friday.”

Customer #1: *long pause* “What?”

Wife: “They’ve been sitting on the counter unopened all weekend. You’re the one who signed for them and everything!”

(Turning a lovely red colour, he hung up the phone and abruptly left the line with his head down. The poor post office lady had a very weary look on her face by the time she got to me, and I could totally see why.)