(It is a Sunday afternoon, and as such, even though I work for an authorized retailer for a major cell phone company, I am running the store alone. I work in a small town and this usually isn’t a problem and, therefore, there are no cameras. Two customers walk in: an older man, sporting a beard and overalls, [Customer #1], and the other, a younger guy, [Customer #2].)

Customer #1: “Hey, man, I have an issue with my cell phone bill; I keep gettin’ charges I don’t want and don’t have a clue how they get on my cell phone.”

(The man is carrying a cane, so I offer a chair for him to sit on. I have to call customer care, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take, so I offer the other customer a chair as well. Everything is going smoothly. [Customer #1] is talking to [Customer #2] about his time in ‘Nam and how Charlie killed a couple of his buddies. I ignore the remark, as [Customer #2] is being polite and nodding and smiling. It has been about fifteen minutes now.)

Me: “It should only be a couple of minutes more, and then everything should be resolved.” 

([Customer #2] simply smiles, being a patient customer.)

Customer #1: “Not a problem. You guys want to see something cool?”

(The old man then proceeds to pull out a pistol and wave it a few times, in a nonthreatening way. I tense up, as does the second guest. Unsure of what to do, I ask the customer if he has a permit for that, as customer service comes back on the line. I hurry up the call, making sure not to offend the customer, who has holstered his pistol by now. Customer care finishes the credit.)

Me: “All right, sir, you are all set. I hope you have a good day.”

(The customer shakes my hand and leaves. His account has his address on it and I catch a glimpse of his truck.)

Customer #2: “You realize he said he had no permit for that, right?”

(I hadn’t heard this, and therefore asked the guest if he minded if I called the police, assuming they would need his statement. He agreed, all the while being the best customer ever. Not sure what happened to [Customer #1], but I got a $100 credit for [Customer #2], and the DM had cameras installed the following week.)

(My partner and I are both Generation X. We’re in the car listening to the radio.)

DJ: ”…and tune in this weekend when we play all the songs from the 80s you grew up with! This is [callsign], your favorite Internet oldies station!” *starts playing U2*

Me: *disgruntled* “I really wish they’d stop calling 80s music ‘oldies.’ It’s not!”

Partner: “Well, it was almost forty years ago.” 

Me: *doing the math and finding no way around it* “Shut up.”

(I work at the front desk of a major advertising agency. One morning, a gentleman comes in, looking around, confused, and approaches my desk.)

Me: “Hi there! How can I help you?”

Client: “Um… I have an appointment with two clients of mine today.”

Me: “Okay, do you have their names so I can let them know you’re here?”

Client: “I don’t know their names.”

Me: “Oh. Hmm. What department could they be in?”

Client: “Oh, you know, sales. Their names are on my phone.”

(He then looks at me expectantly.)

Me: “I see. Well, once you know their names, I will be glad to have them come get you.”

Client: “The name is on my phone.”

Me: “Feel free to check your phone on the seats over there, if you like.”

Client: “Don’t you have an appointment for me? My name is [My Name].”

Me: “Unfortunately, as we have over 300 people in the building and many of them work sales or design and have constant appointments, I have no way of keeping track of everyone’s schedules. If you’ll just look up who you are meeting, though, I will be glad to let them know you’re here.”

Client: “Fine.”

(He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through a bit.)

Client: “It’s with [Person #1] and [Person #2].”

Me: “Great! I will let them know you’re here, then.”

Client: “That shouldn’t have been so hard.”

(I work as waitstaff at a retirement home restaurant where we serve the residents a three-course meal. I go over to my table full of old ladies to give them their dessert. Most of the ladies order the cookie of the day, which is dark chocolate chunk. The cookies we serve are the good kind that you’d buy from a kids’ fundraiser. I serve them their cookies and a few minutes later the ladies call me over.)

Lady #1: *completely serious* “These cookies are amazing! They remind me of an orgasm.”

(This horny old woman looks like an older version of the lady from a Sling TV commercial. I try my hardest not to burst out laughing.)

Lady #2: *picture a tiny, brittle old woman* “Well, then, that’s the best d*** orgasm I’ve even had!”

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(My husband and I are at a high school concert to watch our two nieces perform. We are both in our 40s, but he’s got six extra years on me. The senior band starts playing Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “September.”)

Me: *to my husband* “You realize this was already playing on oldies stations when they were babies, right?”

Husband: *sigh of oldness*

(The senior band starts playing Henry Mancini’s “Pink Panther Theme,” with our elder niece wailing away on the lead sax.)

Me: “And this was playing on oldies stations when their parents were babies! Feel old yet?”

Husband: *even deeper sigh of oldness*