(I work in a family hamburger shop in a popular amusement park in my area. A customer comes in during a slower period and saunters up to the drinks area where I am at the time.)

Customer: “Could I get a blueberry-lime vodka, hold the ice?”

(As I am sixteen and could not possibly serve him that even if we had it, I think he’s joking and I try to joke back.)

Me: “Coming right up.” *takes a water cup and mixes in some different types of Vitamin Water and Sprite* “Here it is!” *jokes making a show of presenting this “fancy” drink to him* “I can’t actually give this to you, though.” *pouring it out*

Customer: “Heh…” *chuckles but continues to stand there*

Me: “So, uh, is there anything I can get you?”

Customer: “No, just the drink.”

(I realize that this customer was not, in fact, joking and wholeheartedly went into a family burger joint looking for a fancy mixed drink, and went up to the sixteen-year-old to ask for it.)

Me: “Oh… Uh, well, we don’t have that, exactly. We have beer at the stand on the patio outside, but aside from that, you probably won’t find what you’re looking for here. Sorry.”

Customer: *with his expression turning sour* “Useless kid.” *storms off*

(I was shocked at what just happened. To this day, a part of me still thinks I was sleep-deprived and hallucinated the whole thing.)

(For the entire week when this happens, I have been reminding my husband to go to the store and pick up milk. We have been married a few months now and neither of us knows that I talk in my sleep. One night, my husband and I are in bed. I have already fallen asleep and my husband is just drifting off when I speak.)

Me: “You need to go right now and buy it.”

Husband: “Buy what?”

Me: “The cow! You need to go get the cow right now!”

Husband: *confused* “A cow?”

Me: *wakes up* “What the h***? What are you talking about? Let me sleep.”

Husband: *starts laughing*

Me: *confused*

Husband: “Sorry, babe, go back to sleep.”

(The next morning, he went to pick up the milk. I’ve had many more weird conversations in my sleep with him since then, but most of them have been incoherent.)

When I was in elementary school, there was a fourth grade teacher who was a little… crazy. One of the many insane things she would do was walk around the lunchroom chanting the phrase, “Don’t eat your dessert first,” over and over again. The teacher would always bring her class to lunch around 15 minutes late; we only had 25 minutes so by this time many kids were almost finished with their food.

I was sitting at my table and had already finished my sandwich and carrots. The teacher walked in with her class, grabbed her lunch, and walked past my table. I was opening my [fruity rolled snack] when she leaned over my shoulder and screamed, “DON’T EAT YOUR DESSERT FIRST!” She then grabbed the treat out of my hand and walked away. I have very bad anxiety and am on the autism spectrum. This startled me so much I almost started to cry. She took food from a five-year-old! Who does that?

Later that day I went home and told my mom what had happened, but she did not believe me. My older sister had had that teacher five years earlier and had had no problems with her, so obviously I must have been lying or exaggerating.

I still remember fifteen years later how scared I was when this grown woman screamed at me for enjoying my sweet treat after my lunch and stole it from me. I doubt she even thought I wasn’t finished with my meal; nearly everyone else, besides her class, had finished, as well. Later, when I had her for fourth grade, I found out that she would constantly take sweets from children and eat them if she suspected they were eating them before their other food.

(I work at a movie theater that has annual popcorn buckets. You buy the bucket for $25 dollars at the beginning of the year and fill it up for $5 each time you come back. We also sell lids for these buckets separately for $1.50. Yes, I know that’s ridiculous. This happens to be the cheapest thing on our menu, and this is what happens weekly.)

Customer: “I want a bucket lid.”

(I grab a lid and hand it to them.)

Customer: “No, I want the popcorn that comes with the bucket lid.”

(I’m a manager at a small regional chain of takeout- and delivery-only pizza parlors. I’m manning the till one night as this exchange happens:)

Customer: “Carryout for [Customer].”

Me: “Sure thing. One large three-topping pizza. Sausage, bacon, and black olives.”

Customer: “That’s right.”

(At the till, we sell single cans of pop and bottles of water, with the prices clearly marked. Because pop is in higher demand and we sell a lot of it, our supplier gives us a small discount, and it ends up being two cents cheaper per can versus a bottle of water.)

Me: “Would you like to add any drinks to your order?”

Customer: “Sure, let me have one Coke, one Sprite, and a bottle of water.”

Me: “All right, one large three-topping, two cans of pop, and a water. Your total comes to $19.72.”

(The transaction has been pleasant up until this point. The customer pays and looks at her receipt.)

Customer: “You overcharged me for the water! The bottle of water is more expensive than the cans of pop!”

Me: *trying to keep the mood light-hearted* “I know it’s crazy, but we get a small discount from our supplier for the pop, because we sell so much of it, so we can sell it two cents cheaper versus the water.”

Customer: “Are you kidding me?! That is so wrong! Water is a basic human right, not to mention the healthier choice, and you’re charging me more for it.”

Me: “I don’t know what to tell you. The markup percentage is the same, so we’re not making any more money on the water than we are the pop.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I’m calling the Better Business Bureau! I don’t think what you are doing here is even legal!”

(The customer stormed out, leaving behind her pizza and drinks, which she’d paid for.)