(I’m getting lunch and have asked for two slices of pizza.)

Cashier: “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a personal pan pizza? It’s one and a half slices and it’s only a dollar more.”

(It has been a really busy day and we are backed up about 30 minutes per-order. We have about five mini pepperoni pizzas left.)

Me: “So, this is nothing compared to how Superbowl Sunday will be?”

Supervisor: “Nope. It’s gonna be rough.”

Me: “Man, can I just shoot myself now?”

Supervisor: “NO! Wait until you are outside… and you have to get me first.”

Me: “Aw, I don’t want to hurt you.”

(My supervisor drops three of the last pepperoni mini-pizzas.)

Me: “Never mind. You first.”

(An elderly gentleman wearing a wife beater that is tucked into his underwear slowly makes his way to the counter to pick up his pizza. After a seemingly normal transaction with a sane customer, he picks up his pizza and turns to walk out the door. As he turns he tilts the pizza vertically and puts it under his arm (like carrying a book). I and some fellow employees watch in amazement as we imagine the hot pizza cheese sliding into a clump.)

Manager: “He’s going to be calling back…”

(About fifteen minutes later, the phone rings.)

Me: “[Pizza], how can I help you?”

Customer: “I’d like to speak to a manager, please.”

Me: “Right away.”

Manager: “This is [Manager]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, my pizza was clumped on one side of the box and the cheese had slide off the pizza. I’d like a new one!”

(The local pizza chain in a small college town has a 10% discount for college students and employees. It was one of the places we’d often go to for lunch. Normally we’d each pay for our own meal, but on this day my coworker asks if I could cover for him since he forgot his wallet.)

Me: “I had the pizza buffet and a drink, and I’m also paying for [Coworker]’s buffet and drink. We work at the college and should get the 10% discount.”

Cashier: “Okay, so the it’s two buffets and two drinks, and each of you gets a 10% discount, so that’s 20% total discount. Your total is [amount].”

Coworker: “Um…”

Me: “Wait, that’s not how it works. The discount is only 10%.”

Cashier: “Yes. You each get 10% off, so that’s 20% total. You owe [amount].”

(Not knowing how to argue with that logic, I paid, and on the way out the door joked with my coworker.)

Me: “We need to bring the entire department out and maybe some others. If we got 10 people, everyone’s meal would be free! Would they even pay us if we brought 11 or more?”

(This is a few days after the Fort Hood shooting when the president is in town to give a speech. The intersection where I usually turn when driving to work has been blocked off for security purposes.)

Me: “I wonder when they’re going to get rid of those cement blocks so I can go home the normal way.”

Coworker: “Probably after Obama leaves.”

Me: “I thought he was already gone.”

Coworker: “I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to politics. I don’t even know Obama’s last name.”

Me: “That’s a joke, right?”

Coworker: “No.” *pause* “Why are you guys laughing?” *longer pause* “Don’t tell me: Obama IS his last name!”