(My father and I are customers in this story. He and I are running errands and stop into a local paint shop looking for a particular type of wood stain. We make our selection and make our way to the registers. Just as we reach the counter, a woman rushes up with a handful of items — rollers, trays, etc. — and drops them on the counter. One of the items she’s placed on the counter is a gallon of clear wood sealant, the packaging of which has “TRANSPARENT VARNISH” in large block letters.)

Woman: “I need to return this. I put two coats of this on my front deck and it doesn’t look like I’ve done anything!”

Cashier: “Well, you only really to apply one coat of this.”

Woman: “I know! But I put this on my deck, and it doesn’t look like I’ve changed anything! It still looks the same!”

Cashier: “Well, it’s clear varnish.”

Woman: “Well, can I exchange this for something darker?”

Cashier: “Um… Sure.”

Woman: “Here, I’ll show you.” *starts scrolling through her phone* “I know you believe me, but it doesn’t look like I’ve done anything after putting this on.”

(By that time, my father and I had purchased our wood stain and left the store. We laughed for a good ten minutes about the whole exchange. If she purchased transparent wood sealant, what did she think was going to happen? Was she expecting the clear varnish to turn her deck black?)

(I work in retail. Normally, I’m a cashier, but on this particular day my managers have assigned me to work the sales floor. The day starts off normally, and when it slows down, I make my way up to the front register to take a break. The head cashier sees me as I’m walking up, and I notice she looks slightly panicked.)

Coworker: *excited* “There are two city homicide detectives here.”

Me: “What?!”

Coworker: “Yeah, they’re in the manager’s office right now. They took a box of [Expensive Brand] boots in with them.”

Me: “Why?”

(One of my managers walks over and joins in on our conversation.)

Manager: “They found something.”

(My manager then told me that a week earlier, a family had entered our store and stolen a pair of high-priced fashion boots. They had taken off their old, worn boots, slipped on the new ones, and then put the old ones in the shoebox and left it on the shelf. Unfortunately, the old boots had bloodstains on them that had come from the victim of a homicide. The police had managed to track down the family, and one of them must have admitted to leaving the evidence shoes at our store. Those bloody boots had somehow managed to stay on our shelves, in the box, for nearly a week without anyone noticing. Even creepier, our store had surveillance footage of two other employees — and me — serving that family on the day of the theft, not knowing that we were talking to people who probably had intimate knowledge of a murder. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night.)

(I work in an alternative book store at the end of a long strip mall. There’s actually another book store five doors down, but they are a Christian bookstore so we don’t have much to compete over. Occasionally we get customers from the other store walking in because they were not paying attention and get confused — or offended — by our products. The store is heavily decorated with draped fabric making it kind of dark inside. One day I see a car pull up front and drop off a cute little old lady, complete with short, curly, white hair and a pink pantsuit. The car immediately drives off as soon as she closes the door, and she wanders into our store while looking through her purse.)

Lady: *still looking in her purse* “Hello, dearie, can you help me return this book? It doesn’t have the right plants. My, it is dark in here! You should tell your manager to fix those lights; it’s not good for your eyes to be in the dark all the time!”

(She pulls out a book about “gardening with the Lord” and sets the book, with a receipt, on the counter. I can also see a gold cross on her necklace.)

Me: “I am sorry, ma’am, but I believe you are actually looking for [Christian Store] a few doors down.”

Lady: “Oh? Am I in the wrong store again?”

(She takes a moment to pull a pair of glasses out of her purse and puts them on before looking around.)

Lady: “Oh! You’re right; this isn’t [Christian Store]! No wonder it’s so dark in here; what an interesting place! What is this store?”

Me: “This is [Alternative Bookstore], ma’am. We specialize in books, supplies, and some knick-knacks, for a variety of religions and spiritualists.”

Lady: “Do you sell books on witchcraft?!”

(As she says this, she looks shocked and holds her hand up to her little gold cross. I brace for the usual shouting as I reply:)

Me: “Yes, ma’am. We do sell books about Wicca, along with books on a wide variety of religions, such as Buddhism and Asatru.”

(For a moment she just stares at me like I slapped her, and very slowly turns around again to look at the store. She is quiet for so long that I begin to worry about her health. Then she turns back to me, all smiles, as if nothing is wrong.)

Lady: “I’ve always wondered what people meant by those words. What is ‘Wicca’? Or that ‘bood-ish’ thing you said? Oh, can you show me any books on gardening?!”

(She was perfectly cheerful, and wandered all over the store asking a thousand questions about everything she could. Since we were slow, I was happy to talk with her and even helped her find a book on planting healing herbs. She kept looking at everything with an expression of amazement I usually only see on children. I checked her out once she decided she had had enough looking around, and we chatted for a few minutes. Apparently the car that had dropped her off belonged to her granddaughter, who dropped her off at the mall once a week, as she couldn’t drive herself, so that she could spend time in the Christian bookstore down the way. And, as her family was all very religious, she had no idea there were so many different beliefs out in the world. She left, happy, and has become my favorite regular, visiting the store every other week, and is still perfectly happy with her beliefs, but loves to talk with me about absolutely everything.)

I work as a concierge in Las Vegas. A guest comes to the desk while on his cell phone, and this is the conversation:

Guest: “Excuse me, could you call Joe’s Stone Crab and ask them if they have stone crab?”

I take a moment to process what he said, and, trying not to laugh, reply:

Me: “Yes, I’m sure they do sir.”

Guest: “Could you call anyway? I just want to be sure.”

I proceed to call the restaurant, and, embarrassed, ask the hostess if a restaurant named Joe’s Stone Crab has stone crab. The hostess is trying not to laugh and tells me they do. I thank her and turn back to the guest.

Me: “Yes, they do.”

Guest: “Really? That’s weird. Good to know, thanks!”

I contemplate the futility of my existence.

(I am the customer in this story. The checkout lines are busy, and I remember I need to withdraw some cash with my purchase. The only self-scan checkout available has a perfectly legible sign on it:)

Sign: “CASH BACK NOT AVAILABLE AT THIS MACHINE.”

(I scan my items. At the conclusion, the checkout prompts me for whether I want cash back.)

Me: *presses YES*

(I wasn’t expecting to get a prompt and was momentarily forgetful of the sign. The machine comes to a dead stop. I contact the nearby cashier and explain what happened. He gets the manager. As the manager unlocks the machine and gives me my cash back:)

Me: “Without people like me, there wouldn’t be a need for people like you.”

(To his credit, the manager did not rub it in. Not while I was within earshot, anyway.)