(I’m moving out of the country, so I am selling or giving away 95% of my stuff. I have a very expensive automatic kitty litter box that retails at $400. I’ve posted it on Craigslist for free, as I don’t feel like dealing with cleaning it and selling it in the next 48 hours before my plane leaves. The post stipulates that the interested party must pick it up. This is a phone conversation.)

Woman Caller: “Hello, I’m calling about the kitty litter machine. Can you deliver it to my house?”

Me: “No, you must come pick it up. I live in [Town]. It retails for $400 new. I’m just too rushed to sell it before my plane leaves.”

Woman Caller: “But that’s two hours from me… Can’t you deliver it to my house?”

Me: “No. I would charge a $300 delivery charge.”

Woman Caller: “That’s too much! Why is it so much?”

Me: “Because I don’t want my car to smell like a litter box and I don’t have time to do it before my plane leaves. You can come and pick it up for free, though.”

Woman Caller: “I don’t want my car to smell, either! What can we do to work it out?”

Me: “I’ll just give it to someone who will want to come to my house. Bye.”

(Thirty minutes later, another interested party picked it up.)

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(My parents are in America for their honeymoon, and decide to go to the adult-only part of a well-known theme park.)

Attendant: “I just need to see some ID.”

(My mother proceeds to pull out her passport and show the attendant her date of birth.)

Attendant: “I’m sorry ma’am you aren’t old enough for this attraction. You have to be 21.”

Mother: “But I am 21.”

Attendant: “No, you’re not. According to your passport you won’t be old enough for another few months.”

Mother: “Oh, no, sorry. We’re from England, so the date is reversed. I am old enough.”

Attendant: “I’m not stupid; you don’t really date that way over there.”

Mother: “Yes, we do.”

Attendant: “You’re not fooling anyone. You just want to get in here under age.”

(At this point my father steps in and shows the attendant his passport.)

Father: “In that case would you mind telling me which is the 30th month?”

(The attendant went bright red, and quietly let them in.)

(My mother is in her seventies, and she is shopping at a thrift store when she spots a beautiful bamboo bookcase.)

Clerk: “Hi. Do you need some help?”

Mom: “I am interested in the shelf, but I have to go home first and do some measuring.”

Clerk: “No problem; I’ll make sure it’s still here when you get back.”

(After getting home, measuring, and seeing it will fit, she calls me to ask if I can go with her to pick it up if it is still there. We get to the store, where she walks over to the bookshelf and shows me. About a second later, a customer walks up to us.)

Customer: “I’m actually buying this shelf… but how much would you be willing to give me not to buy this?”

(My mom and I look at each other in disbelief, and before I can even think of what to say to this idiot, the clerk from earlier immediately steps in:)

Clerk: “Sorry, sir. This lady was here earlier and was going to buy it, but she had to run home and take measurements first.”

Customer: “Well, that’s not fair. I was just ready to buy this!”

Clerk: “Sorry. She gets first pick.”

Mom: *looking at the customer with a big grin* “And I decided I’ll take it.”

Clerk: *with an even bigger grin* “Let me go ahead and ring you up, and you also get a senior discount!”

(We spent the next few minutes cashing out while the customer just stood there and stared at us the whole time, and then stood out in the parking lot and kept staring at us with a butt-hurt look while I loaded it on the car, pausing here and there to give him a big “f*** you” grin. Thank you, awesome clerk, for putting that a**hole in his place for trying to extort money from the elderly!)

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(A woman walks into our haunted house with her 10-year-old son, buying admission for the two of them. After she comes out, she storms over to me, a look of anger on her face.)

Customer: “Refund. Now!”

Me: “Ma’am, as you can see by this sign, we have a strict ‘No Refund’ policy.”

Customer: “No, you don’t understand. I want my money back, and I want it now! I want to speak with the manager of this place.”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, I am the manager.”

Customer: “Then you can give me a refund.”

Me: “Before we take this any further, I’d like to know why you want a refund.”

Customer: “Do you have any idea how bad this place scared my child? He was terrified!”

Me: “Well, in that case, I certainly cannot give you a refund.”

Customer: “Oh? Why’s that?”

Me: “You see, ma’am, this is a haunted house. Our job here is to scare and frighten everyone who comes in here. You said your son was scared when he went in. Then you got what you paid for.”

Customer: “Yeah, but I didn’t think it would scare him THAT bad!”

Me: “Then we’ve exceeded expectations.”

Customer: “No, you didn’t! You scared a little ten-year-old boy to death!”

Me: “As I stated, that is our job. It is up to the family of children to decide whether the child should go in or not.”

Customer: “I think it would be up to the workers here to not scare a child who’s coming through!”

Me: “Then they wouldn’t be doing their job, ma’am.”

Customer: “So, I can’t get a refund?”

Me: “I’m afraid not.”

Customer: “You should change the policy about refunds, then.”

Me: “I have no power to do that. I’m the manager, but not the owner. And he has told us that if we were to give out refunds, we would have no profit, because people would abuse the refunds right. This is why we can’t do it.”

Customer: “No refund?”

Me: “No refund, sorry.”

Customer: “Well, then I’m NEVER coming back to this place ever again!”

Me: “Okay.”

(The woman looked at me in disbelief for a few seconds before she briskly walked away, murmuring something to herself.)

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(The restaurant I work for allows us to dress up on Halloween, provided we do not wear a mask or anything revealing, too scary, or otherwise inappropriate. I dress up like a female biker as this is the easiest way to dress up and still follow the rules. To add little extra touches to my costume, I slap on some fake tattoos and use makeup to create a black eye. I am working drive-thru and a few people comment on the black eye, but they just remark on what a good job I have done with the makeup. Then, a gentleman pulls up to the window.)

Customer: “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

Me: *joking* “Yeah. You should see the other guy, though.”

Customer: *completely serious* “You mean to tell me a MAN did that to you?! I thought you got into a fight with another girl!”

Me: “No, sir. No one did this to me. It’s makeup.”

Customer: “Are you sure? You don’t have to lie if someone is hitting you.”

Me: “I’m perfectly aware of that, sir, but I assure you it’s just makeup. See?”

(I wipe my finger on the “bruise” and show him the color on my finger.)

Customer: “Oh, okay. I thought I was going to have to beat someone up for you.”

Me: “I can tell you right now: if someone ever hit me I would make sure they SERIOUSLY regretted it immediately!”

Customer: “I bet you would!”

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