(Dinner at my nephew’s wedding is delicious. It’s also Southern: barbecue, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans cooked with onion and a ham hock. The wedding cake is red velvet. There is one lonely-looking salad, included perhaps to keep the entire menu from being blackballed by the American Heart Association.)
Out Of Town Guest: *poking the chicken dubiously* “Maybe if it was baked…”
Local Guest: “Oh, honey. This is Missouri. We don’t bake anything.”
(A nephew’s wedding is the occasion for my large and noisy family to trot out several favorite stories. Several of them involve my youngest brother, an adrenalin junkie with poor decision-making skills. At the end of a long and complicated story about him, three dogs, and a skunk, one of my nieces is shaking her head in disbelief.)
Me: “It’s true. You know that little voice that we all have in the back of our brain; the one that tells you not to do dumb stuff like stick a fork in the wall socket?”
Niece: “Are you saying Uncle [Youngest Brother] doesn’t listen to his little voice?”
Me: “I’m saying his little voice was dropped on its head as a child.”
(The store I work at is a punk/gag retail store. Our customers generally range from the usual teenagers, to the occasional adult. We’re required to greet every guest as they enter the store and provide them with a promotion. It’s not uncommon for guests to completely ignore us. This happens to be one of those times.)
Me: “Hey, Welcome to [Store]. How are you?”
Customer: *ignores me*
(Once the customer is out of earshot, I turn to my store manager who has been standing beside me given the rather slow day.)
Manager: “I’m great; how are you?”
Me: “I’m good! Can I help you find anything?”
Manager: “No, just browsing.”
Me: “All right! Well, jewelry is buy one, get one half off! Feel free to ask if you have any questions.”
Manager: “Thank you!”
(We then parted ways and went about our business as if nothing ever happened.)
(I work as an admin. assistant at a local fire department. One of my duties is to issue burning permits for anybody wanting to burn brush. This happens over the phone.)
Caller: “Burning permit. Now.”
Me: “Due to the high winds we are not issuing burning permits at this time. You can call to check tomorrow and then come in to the station.”
Caller: “I can’t tomorrow. You need to make the wind stop. I pay your salary so you have to.” *slams down phone*
Me: “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
(I explain to a customer I must return her damaged online item in a separate transaction from her buying the new one. It must always must be done separately.)
Customer: “OH, YEAH, THAT’S FINE!” *almost jubilant*
Me: “Okay.” *somehow knowing it won’t be*
(I return the item to her card, explaining the process as I am going. I ring up the replacement item, which is now even cheaper than she originally bought it.)
Customer: “WAIT. I DON’T GET IT. IT’S AN EVEN EXCHANGE. I SHOULD HAVE TO PAY NOTHING!”
Me: *explains it several times until she gives up and pays and goes away*
