(I’m a volunteer at a museum. The volunteers and staff carry radios so we can coordinate. We have different channels for different groups so, for example, the tour guides can coordinate tours without bothering the rest of the staff. Our radios are also always simultaneously tuned to a second channel called “general,” which is only used for announcements. The museum is closed for today while we change exhibits. Notably, a site safety staff member is also testing out the PA loudspeakers.)

Site Safety: *on general* “Heads up, loud noise coming.”

Site Safety: *on PA* “THIS IS AN AUDIO TEST OF THE— GOOD LORD, THAT’S LOUD. HOW DO I LOWER THE VOLUME?”

Site Safety: *on general* “Sorry, folks… That’s a bit louder than expected. We’re gonna look into that.”

(A few minutes pass:)

Unknown #1: *on general* “Szz fn mph… fllf.”

Supervisor: “Ah, darn it, someone’s leaning on their transmit.”

(Someone’s accidentally transmitting on general without realizing it, usually caused by leaning up against a wall and hitting the PTT button.)

Supervisor: “Hot mic on general.”

Unknown #1: “Fzz whll… mm.”

Supervisor: “Hot mic on general!”

Unknown #1: “Hll?”

Unknown #2: “Hot! Mic! On! General!”

Unknown #1: “Snzzz whrr…”

Unknown #3: “HOT MIC ON G**D*** GENERAL.”

Supervisor: “Hey, keep it professional on the radios!”

Unknown #1: “Shvvv br.”

(Pretty soon, a chorus of voices pop up, all calling in, “Hot mic on general.” Then, suddenly:)

Site Safety: *on PA* “HOT MIC ON GEN– OH, S***, WRONG BUTTON, THAT’S THE PA. SORRY, FOLKS.”

(Long pause:)

Unknown #3: “Uh… hot mic on g**d*** PA.”

(Our Boy Scout troop is visiting a museum. One of the boys is diagnosed with ADHD, but his parents don’t like him being on medication and regularly have him go without it. As a result, he can be a handful to deal with at times. At the end of the trip, we’re all in the gift shop when a friend and I notice the boy with ADHD grabbing a harmonica from one of the racks and walking with it over to the cash register. Realizing what will happen later, we both exchange horrified looks and immediately turn to one of the assistant scoutmasters who drove up in his own car.)

Me: “Say, is it okay if we ride back with you?”

Assistant Scoutmaster: *confused* “Umm… okay, I guess?”

(So, while the rest of the troop loads up in the van to head back, we get in the car with the assistant scoutmaster. Halfway back, we stop off at a gas station. My friend’s mother, who came along with for the trip and has been riding in the van, gets out with a very annoyed look on her face.)

Me: “Let me guess. [Boy With ADHD] was playing the harmonica the entire time?”

Friend’s Mother: *through clenched teeth* “Non… stop.”

This story is part of our Boy Scout roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

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(I work as a summer guide in an old museum church. The wooden church has no electricity and it’s pretty much in the same condition as it would have been 100 or 200 years ago. A lot of jackdaws live on the roof and in the bell tower and they get pretty loud sometimes. A group of customers is leaving and they stand on the stairs outside while I stay inside behind the counter. We have this conversation through the open door:)

Customer #1: “Are those jackdaws?”

Me: “What? Oh, the noise. Yes, they are jackdaws.”

Customer #1: “Some kind of tape.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer #1: “A tape.”

(I begin to wonder if there is tape left by the gardeners in the churchyard, though I don’t remember seeing any when I arrived to work.)

Me: “Umm… What?”

Customer #1: “There’s some kind of tape.”

Me: “…?”

(Finally, her friend joins the conversation:)

Customer #2: “No, they are real birds.”

(Apparently, the customer thought we have a recording that starts playing jackdaw noises when someone walks the stairs.)

(I work in a ticket office for a historical property in the north of England. I’ve been happily chatting away to this customer and his son. Both have very posh southern accents and were very happily chatting back to me, until…)

Me: “That’ll be £5.60 for your ticket today, please.”

(The man stares blankly at me for a few seconds. I’m not sure if he heard me, so I try again.)

Me: “That’s £5.60, please.”

(He smiles at me, nodding his head slowly, but makes no move to pay for his ticket.)

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: “You have a very weird voice, you know that?”

Me: “Um…”

Customer: “Yes. You sound terribly northern. I can’t even tell a word you’re saying! It’s all very strange. Then again, I bet I sound very odd to you, don’t I?”

Me: “Oh, well, I’m sorry if you’ve had trouble with my accent, but you are up north now.”

(He nods, his blank expression back on his face. His son nudges him.)

Customer’s Son: “Dad, stop insulting the lady and give her your money.”

Customer: “Oh, yes! I forgot about paying!”

(I work for a while as a cashier in a soaring museum. One of the more popular gift shop items is a model glider. The museum director is with me when a man and his son come up to the counter.)

Customer: “Hi, it’s just this toy.” *hands me a model glider*

Director: “Oh, yes, those are fun. Just don’t fly it too close to the museum; they have a tendency to get stuck on the roof.”  

Customer: “Okay, sure.” *pays and leaves* 

(About ten minutes later:)

Customer: *sheepish* “Yeah, I need to buy another glider. It got stuck on the roof.”