(I am in my eighth-grade Spanish class, in our third year of taking it, and we have to give this little “presentation” where we have a conversation with our partner in Spanish, meant to be structured like an interview.)

Student #1: “Hola, me llamo [Student #1].” *Hi, my name is [Student #1].*

Student #2: “Hola, me llamo [Student #2].” *Hi, my name is [Student #2].*

Student #1: “¿Comó te llamas?” *What is your name?*

(The class exploded with laughter. The teacher looked like she wanted to bang her head against the desk.)

(A coworker that works as a “carry out,” meaning he helps customers out with heavy items and gathers carts, comes in shaking his head and giving me his famous, “You’re not going to believe me,” expression. It is mildly busy. Keep in mind that we get a lot of soccer moms in the store, as well as elderly people.)

Me: “What happened?” *dreading this answer*

Coworker: “Someone parked inside the cart corral.”

Me: “Again?” *this happens a lot*

Coworker: “It gets better… There are at least five or six carts in that corral.”

Me: “Are you f****** serious?”

Coworker: *calls our head manager about it*

(The licence is announced over the store speakers. It gets better still…)

Me: “Dare I ask how?”

Coworker: “There is someone in the car. An adult… not a kid.”

(We tell our manager and the customer comes up. They’re in their late 30s or early 40s.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, but your car is in our cart corral; you need to move it.”

Customer: “Why? I’m not blocking anyone. Besides, I have someone waiting for me.”

Manager: “It is in our cart corral. It’s blocking my employees outside from doing their job. Please move it, immediately.”

Customer: “I’m shopping!”

Manager: “Please, you need to move your car. It’s not in a designated parking spot. We need those carts, and you cannot stay parked there.”

(The customer eventually moved their car. But it took my poor manager twenty minutes to explain to them why they couldn’t park there. And they STILL didn’t understand what was wrong.)

(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!)

(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’!”

(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.”