Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that is the coupon for next week. Do you have the second half of this flyer, for this week’s coupon?”

Customer: *as loud as she can* “YOU NEED A F****** LAW DEGREE TO UNDERSTAND EXPIRATION DATES THESE DAYS!”

Me: “Beg your pardon? The date is written in the standard format, right here.” *points to dates on coupon*

Customer: “Like, you expect me to actually read the coupon?!”

(I am scanning in some returned movies when a mom and her young son approach with movies to rent. I pull up her account and notice there are about $7 worth of late fees.)

Me: “All right, ma’am, there is a balance on your account. Would you like to take care of all of it today?”

(I think she will, considering she is wearing designer clothes.)

Mother: “What movies were they for?”

(I look them up and tell her that the kids’ movies were all about 13 days late, meaning about $3 for each movie was added as a late fee.)

Mother: “But those were free kids’ movies!”

Me: “Well, yes, it’s free to rent them, but it’s sort of like the library. If they’re late, there’s a charge.”

Mother: *yelling* “NO, THEY WERE FREE. TAKE THAT OFF!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. They were extremely late, so I cannot take the charges off.”

Mother: “Fine! We’re leaving and never coming back!”

Me: *as she’s leaving* “Okay, bye!”

(On my most recent office visit, I get some coffee but am hustled into a room before I can mix in cream or sugar. I spot a container of tongue depressors and grab one to stir. The nurse chuckles a bit at my audacity, but it makes perfect sense to me; it’s just like any other wooden coffee stirrer. Then, I have a bright idea. A few moments later my doctor walks in:)

Me: “I think I need Zoloft for my tongue.”

Doctor: “Why is that?”

Me: “It’s been depressed.”

(I got the laugh I hoped for. Nice to have a doctor with a sense of humor.)

This story is part of the Pun roundup!

Read the next Pun roundup story!

Read the Pun roundup!

(A customer comes back with pizza he ordered earlier. This is a take-and-bake pizzeria, which, of course, means they take it home and bake it in their oven.)

Customer: “I want to know who cooked this pizza. It’s cold and nasty!”

Manager: “Um… We don’t cook the pizzas here.”

Customer: “Well, whoever cooked it, it’s cold, and it’s disgusting.”

Manager: “Sir, we don’t cook the pizzas; this is a take-and-bake.”

Customer: “Well, whoever cooked it, it was terrible.”

(My dad is a bit of an odd duck. When going through the Christmas present my parents have sent for my boyfriend and me, I pull two small rectangular boxes out of a package, each with one of our names on them.)

Me: “Oh, I almost missed these; they’re so small. Wow, they’re pretty heavy, too… Wait…”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “They’re small, heavy, there’s one for each us, and they’re from my dad.”

Boyfriend: “Knives?”

Me: “Knives.”

(They were, indeed, two very nice pocket knives. I still know my dad’s tastes.)