(It is back in the days when photos are developed on film. I am an 18-year-old girl working one-hour photo. A college-age guy comes in with his girlfriend. They’re both staring at the ground and acting very nervous. This generally means I’m going to get asked a particular question.)

Customer: “Do you, um, process… um… Do you do… pictures? Like, you know…”

Me: *brightly* “Nudes?”

Customer: *finds the floor even more interesting*

Me: *totally deadpan* “One person in the photo, no touching, no toys. State law. If there are any children or animals involved I will call the police.” *cheerful again* “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

(The boy shoved a roll of film at me and hightailed it out of the store without saying another word. I covered the print window with a paper plate and started processing the film.)

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(I work at a farm supply store. A customer approaches me at our service desk with a request:)

Customer: “Hi, I’m looking for [Dog Food]. You used to carry it but I don’t see any on the shelves.”

Me: *consulting inventory* “Hmm… I’m sorry, ma’am, but that one was placed on store closeout. We won’t be getting that one back in.”

Customer: “What does that mean?”

Me: “It’s a decision made by our corporate office. Perhaps the brand wasn’t selling well, or they had supply issues. Unfortunately, we aren’t always told the reason why, but the store will no longer be carrying that brand. Perhaps I can search for another retailer that might have it for you?”

Customer: “So, when do you think you’ll have more in?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we won’t be getting that brand back in. It’s been discontinued. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Is it back-ordered or something? Can you check one of your other locations?”

Me: “Our other locations get the same inventory we do. If an item is discontinued, it means the store will not be selling it anymore. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Customer: “Do you have any in the back?”

Me: “…”

(My father is on the couch watching college football when I get home. Side note: to be completely fair, I don’t really get sports or sports culture, but our family has always rooted for this particular team.)

Father: “[Our Team] sucks.”

Me: “Oh? Why?”

Father: “They were forecast to win this game by seventeen points and they just won in overtime.”

Me: “So, you’re mad because they didn’t win how you wanted them to?”

(He did not understand how this was strange.)

I work in an assisted living facility. Our entrance has two sets of double doors on either end of a small vestibule — one set on the outside and the other on the inside. The door you are meant to push or pull to go in or out has a shiny metal push plate or a shiny metal pull bar. Both are large and super obvious. Or not, I guess.

On the outside set of doors, if you don’t pull open the correct door, it will cause both doors to crash together loudly when the next person opens the correct door. It’s super hard to open the wrong door, so you’d think that would be a clue, but no.

On the inside set of doors, you have to push the left-hand door to go out, but only after I’ve pushed the unlock button, because it’s a locked unit. When you are barreling towards the door at mach 10, and I am busy with other tasks, don’t be surprised if your stupid self smacks into the door because it takes me a second to push the button. Also, staring with a vacant expression or outright glaring at me when the door doesn’t open at your whim doesn’t work, either. You know you moved your loved one into a locked unit, so — surprise! — the doors lock. Amazing, I know.

There’s also the fact of the alarm system in place; if someone repeatedly pushes on the door when it’s locked, the alarm triggers, and it’s loud. So, don’t stand there stupidly and push the door over and over just because I didn’t press unlock right away. Sometimes it’s loud in here and I’m busy with something else and I don’t see you right away. Chill. Also, if the alarm triggers when you’re coming in or out, as it sometimes does when the door is opened too close to when it closes, don’t stand there keeping the d*** thing from closing! If it doesn’t close, I can’t reset it, and the alarm will keep going off while you waste time glaring at me about it.

I’ve had signs that say, “Push,” and, “Pull,” on the appropriate doors, but apparently, I’m the only one who’s literate around here. I also thought about giant signs saying, “NO,” on the wrong doors… but I’m guessing two letters would be too difficult, as well.

(I’m sixteen when I get all four of my wisdom teeth out at once. I’m understandably a little fuzzy and in pain after the procedure, but overall surprisingly lucid. I tend to be painfully polite, and since I can’t speak with the gauze in my mouth, I clumsily sign, “Thank you,” the only thing I know how to say in basic sign language, to the nurses helping me to the recovery area. A few weeks later, I’m discussing the aftermath of the procedure with my parents.)

Mom: “Do you realize how many times you said, ‘Thank you,’ to the nurses?”

Me: “I wanted to be polite! They did a good job!”

Mom: “You were thanking them every two seconds!”

(Good to know I’m polite even when I’m high on anesthesia.)