(I work in a call centre for a bank, and one of the security questions we use to verify cardholder identity is a memorable date. Some people try to get clever with you. I generally give them no reaction at all and just ask a different security question.)

Me: “Can I ask you to confirm your memorable date there for me sir?”

Customer: “Ah yes, June 9th, 1979. I met this lovely blonde woman in a bar in Soho, absolutely beautiful. She drank cocktails and we went back to mine and the things she could do kiddo, you could only imag—oh wait memorable date? Oh s***, I thought you meant…”

Me: “Ha, that’s alright, sir; do you have it there?”

Customer: “What’s your memorable date? You sound nice; you must have one.”

Me: “My boyfriend surprised me with a trip to Paris for my birthday last year. That was pretty memorable I guess.”

Customer: “Jeez, your generation sucks. Paris!? You can’t beat a roll in the hay in the back of a third-hand car in Charing Cross. I’d show you that!”

Me: “Okaaaaaaay anyway, moving on.”

Coworker: “Okay, sir… your order is—”

(I can hear a p*rnographic film being played in the background.)

Coworker: “Okay, I’m going say this and kindly, but bluntly: sir, I can’t hear you over your p*rnographic film. Can you turn it down a bit?”

Customer: “Wait, you can hear that?”

Coworker: “Yes, sir, it is quite loud. I’m attempting to give you your order number, but—”

Customer: “Oh…”

Coworker: “Yeah.”

Customer: “You like it?”

Coworker: “Uh… no, actually. If you can turn it down a little I’d be—”

Customer: “What?! Are you telling me to turn off my p*rn?!”

Coworker: “No, sir, I’m not. However, I’m having a hard time talking over the delivery guy with a medium sausage pizza. If you can turn it down a bit, I can give you your—”

Customer: *click*

(I am checking out a young couple’s weekly groceries. I overhear their exchange.)

Girl #1: *puts massive pack of batteries onto the conveyor belt*

Girl #2: “Wait, that’s really expensive! What do we even need batteries for?”

Girl #1: *glances nervously at me* “They’re for the… TV remote.”

Girl #2: “Oh, I didn’t realise the batteries in the remote had run out. Do we need that many though? I mean what else do we have that even uses batter— Oh…”

(Our store has a name that could easily be that of an adult establishment. I happened to be in the back room when a customer calls.)

Me: “[Store Name], how may I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, do you have any male toys?”

Me: “‘Mail’ as in toys that go in the mail, or toys for boys?”

Caller: “Toys that go in the mail.”

Me: “Well, we have a toy that can be sent like a postcard, otherwise—”

Caller: “No, not toys that go in the M-A-I-L, toys that go in the M-A-L-E!”

Me: “Uh… we sell children’s toys.”

Caller: “Oh, oh darn! We’re looking for adult toys!”

(The customer yells to someone not on the line.)

Caller: “Hey Billy, they don’t have ’em!”

Me: “Good luck in your search!”

(I am very glad it was me who answered, and not my younger, more innocent coworker!)

(We get reports from various companies for copyright infringement. When we do, the customer gets a note on their account. We call them, letting them know they’ve been caught and request that they stop. I had called this customer a week before and they informed me that they had an unprotected wireless point that they would secure. They have another notification, so I call them back.)

Me: “Hello, this is [company name] again. We spoke last week.”

Customer: “I remember; we’ve replaced the router and added a password to our wifi as of last weekend. It should be fixed.”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we got another infringement notice yesterday.”

Customer: “How is that possible?”

Me: “I’m not sure; maybe you’re downloading something you don’t—”

Customer: “We don’t download anything here!”

Me: “I understand, sir, but maybe we should check out the notice and see what is being downloaded?”

Customer: “Okay, sure. But I’m telling you, I’m not downloading anything illegal.”

Me: *pulls up the notice* “Umm… sir. It says here the content in question is rather… adult in nature.”

Customer: “What?”

(I read off the long, clearly niche p*rnographic title. I earn some looks from my co-workers.)

Customer: “I am a good Christian father! I would never risk my marriage or my faith for p*rnography, especially not that perverted stuff. I can’t believe you’d accuse me of being a freak like that!”

Me: “Sir, you said ‘father’. You wouldn’t by chance happen to have a son, would you?”

Customer: “…yes.”

Me: “He… wouldn’t by chance happen to have his own computer in his room, would he?”

Customer: “Not anymore, thank you.”