(Our store is having a Pokémon prerelease. Basically, this means that a new set is coming out for the card game. We have a LOT of people in our store, a lot of whom are parents with their kids. A boy comes up to me; he’s no older than 11, but it’s clear he knows what he’s talking about. Please note: this is a day after a prerelease for ANOTHER game, and I’m exhausted and frazzled.)

Boy: “Excuse me. What are your cheapest sleeves?”

Me: “Are you looking for Pokémon-sized? Those will be over here. How many are you looking for?”

Boy: “Deck sized, 40 to 80.”

Me: “Okay, that’d be these.”

(I show him the 50-pack sleeves, which are the cheapest.)

Boy: “Great, thanks! My dad’s looking for sleeves for his deck.”

Me: “Then they’ll be here.”

Boy: “Thank you!” *runs off*

(A few minutes later his dad comes up.)

Dad: “My son was looking for sleeves for me. What are the cheapest for this game?”

Me: “Right, those would be here—“

Dad: “Eh… what are the best?”

Me: *taken aback* “Uh… those would be the [Brand]s, but they’re not the cheapest. The cheapest would be these—“

Dad: “What’s the difference?”

Me: “[Brand]s have a really good reputation in our store, and they come in a pack of 100. They also come in a variety of colors, while the others don’t.”

(I point at the array of colors we have on a shelf above my head.)

Dad: “So, how much are those?”

Me: “The [Brand]s are between $11 and $13, before tax.”

Dad: “So… what’s the difference?”

Me: “Uh, quality? They come in shiny and matte, and a bunch of different colors.”

Dad: “You have blue?”

Me: “We have several different blues, like sky blue, blue shiny, blue matte—“

Dad: “What’s your favorite color?”

Me: “I personally like petrol—“

Dad: “What color is that, black?”

Me: *hands him the box and points* “They’re kind of like an off-greenish-blue-grey, like gasoline. The company is British, so—“

Dad: “What about the blue ones? How blue are they?”

Me: “Which blue are you talking about? Sky blue, matte blue, shiny blue—“

Dad: “Ah, forget it. Give me the petrol ones. Whatever.”

Me: “Of course, that’ll be $13.21—“

Dad: “You said they were ten bucks!”

Me: “Sir, I said they were between $11 and $13 before tax.”

Dad: “Nah, I’m just screwing with you; I’ll take those. Here you go.” *throws me a grin*

Me: “Thanks, good luck at the game.”

(What the heck, man?)

(I have just finished taking two orders, the first being a younger man’s breakfast meal with a coffee, the second being just a small black coffee for an older man. At this restaurant, we leave the orders on the front counter for our customers to pick up. The younger customer’s food has just been put up, so I quickly make his coffee and put it on the tray to complete his order.)

Older Customer: *grabs coffee*

Me: “Oh, sir, that’s not your coffee. That one goes with this meal. Let me make yours real quick.”

Older Customer: “I don’t care. I want my coffee. Sucks for them.” *walks away*

Me: *baffled* “But sir… it’s not the right one.”

Younger Customer: “Did he just take my coffee?”

Me: “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I’ll make you a new one.”

Younger Customer: *laughing* “That’s so weird! Was it even the same kind?”

Me: “No! Yours has a bunch of cream and sugar in it, and his was supposed to be black! I guess he liked it, though?”

(At least he didn’t come back and tell me that “his” coffee was wrong!)

(I’m working at a coffee shop and part of our training is offering food with a drink purchase.)

Customer: “I’ll have a large brew.”

Me: “All right! Any bagels or muffins with that today?”

Customer: *suddenly sounding irritated* “Well, is it free?”

Me: “No, sorry. They would add to your total.”

Customer: “Then why would I want it?”

Me: “Sorry… Your total is [total], and your coffee will be ready at the end of the counter.”

(Just for clarity, there wasn’t anything to suggest the food would be free, and he asked every time anyone attempted to upsell him)

(It’s the early ‘90s, and a lot of ‘portable’ technology is still pretty expensive. My parents and I have just gotten back from visiting my grandparents’ house in Florida. It was a long, three-day drive; and upon arriving home late one night we’re all very tired and hungry.)

Mom: “I’m thinking of putting on a frozen pizza. How does that sound?”

Dad: “Excellent. We’ll unload the car while you pre-heat the oven.”

(A couple minutes later, the oven has started to heat up, yet something seems off.)

Me: “Mom? Dad? Something smells really funny in the kitchen.”

Mom: “It almost smells like burning rubber or something.” *sudden gasp of realization* “[Neighbor]’s camcorder!”

Me: “What?!”

(Sure enough, Mom and Dad turn the oven off and open the door to find the melted remains of what was once a very expensive, new recording device.)

All: “…”

Mom: “Oh, NO…”

Me: “Why was [Neighbor]’s new portable video recorder in the oven?!”

Mom: “We borrowed it for [Event] and didn’t get a chance to return it before they left on their vacation…

Me: “But why the oven?!”

Dad: “I thought it would be safe there! No-one would look for a VCR machine in an oven!”

Mom: “Well, we’ve certainly proven that part right.”

(My parents bought him an entirely new machine; thankfully, he found the whole story hilarious. We also learned an important lesson: always check your ovens before turning up the heat!)

(I’m back in my fairly small, conservative hometown, going grocery shopping with my dad. We get up to the register, and our cashier, a teenage girl, has a Dalek bow in her hair.)

Me: “Your bow is rockin’!”

Cashier: *laughing* “Thanks! I was actually just admiring the X-Men button on your purse!”

(We chat back and forth a bit about our favorite comic series when my dad scoffs.)

Dad: “Nerds.”

(She immediately looks horrified, but I just laugh.)

Me: “Dad… you introduced me to Dr. Who and Batman and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when I was seven! Where do you think I get it from?”

Dad: “Well, yeah. Hitchhiker’s Guide is classic, and Batman is clearly the coolest comic series. But the classic Dr. Who series is so much better. It just went downhill after they introduced River Song. You two are nerds.”

(Both the cashier and I were laughing by this point. Dad and I paid, collected our groceries, and left, my dad still arguing that I’m nerdier than he is. That may be, but the apple doesn’t fall far, Dad!)