I work in a store that sells items imported from Japan. It’s mostly novelty stuff, but we also sell a pretty decent and high-quality range of storage solutions.

An older couple is looking at a pre-built shelf that contains cool-looking pull-out storage containers. The guy comes over to me.

Customer: “Can I get the dimensions for this shelf? I wanna know if it will fit my daughter’s room.”

Me: “I’d be happy to help.”

I check the label on the item. The labels are attached in Japan, so they’re particular to the Japanese market, including having a price tag in Japanese Yen, as well as other things.

Me: “It looks like it’s 126cm in width, which would make it—”

I’m about to do the conversion into feet, but the customer is already upset.

Customer: “What’s that in American?! I don’t want none of those communist units!”

Me: “Uh… I was about to convert, sir. That width would be just under four feet, two inches.”

Customer: “Whatever. How much does it weigh? It needs to go on a drywall.”

I don’t even speak the metric figure out loud. I start converting, but even this is enough to upset the customer.

Customer: “What’s taking so long?”

Me: “I’m just figuring out how much it weighs, sir.”

Customer: “Why you gotta figure it out?”

I ignore him and convert the kilograms to pounds.

Me: “It’s a little over thirteen pounds.”

Customer: “Hmm.”

He waves me away as he continues to browse. His wife looks apologetic, but says nothing. 

A few minutes later, I see the guy talking to my younger coworker, talking about another storage solution. I overhear my coworker answering him:

Coworker: “It weighs about six kilograms, sir.”

Ugh. Here we go. I rush over there just in time to hear the customer going off:

Customer: “Y’know what? F*** this store! We’re only here because my daughter, bless her liberal heart, loves this place, but if they don’t even have the decency to convert to American, then I’m not gonna give them my hard-earned dollars!”

The customer storms out, again with the apologetic-looking wife. I turn to my coworker.

Me: “You okay?”

Coworker: “Oh, yeah. I did that on purpose. I heard him going off at you about the metric stuff earlier, so I thought it would be funny to tease the baby.”

Me: “Uh… okay. Might be better if you didn’t do that in the future.”

Coworker: “Why? You scared of me causing… mass hysteria?”

Me: “…shut up.”

Related:
Mass Confusion

This story reminded me of a time in the supermarket. It was getting towards the end of the day, and there was a promotion going on with washing detergent.

Me: “Hi! What’s the offer, please?”

Sales Lady: “It’s 50% off [Brand] liquid washing detergent.”

It’s not my usual brand, but it is a good one, and my old one was starting to run low. I had a look at what was in front of her, and it was all the biological detergent.

Me: “Is the non-bio liquid in the sales?”

Sales Lady: “It is, but we’ve sold out of it.”

Me: “Oh, that’s a shame. Do you know if you’re getting anymore in?”

Sales Lady: “We are next week, but today’s the last day of the sale.”

Me: “Ah, well, not to worry. Thank you anyway.”

Sales Lady: “But we do have the biological detergent.”

Me: “Yes, but unfortunately, I’m allergic to it.”

Sales Lady: “But it’s a really good offer!”

Me: “Yes, it is. But I can’t use it. I live alone, and it would never get used.”

Sales Lady: “It’s 50% off!”

Me: “I know. But it would be a waste of money, as it would bring me out in a massive rash!”

Sales Lady: “But it’s so cheap!”

…at which point, I walked off. She didn’t follow me; I got clean away.

I work on repairs and maintenance at a busy resort hotel. I regularly have to polish scratches out of elevator walls while they are actively in use. Every time I did this, I embraced my impromptu role as an elevator boy with remarks such as:

Me: “You know, you’ll be… floored with the results when we’re done.”

Me: “This job does have its… ups and downs.”

Me: “Oh, I’m definitely… moving up in my career. Taking things to the next level!”

Me: “Sorry, am I… pushing your buttons a bit with all these jokes?”

Me: “I’m your onboard entertainment for today! The guy doing live paint drying performances was unfortunately busy.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was mainly the dads who laughed at my jokes. The wives and kids more often groaned, rolled their eyes, and hid smiles. I felt very validated by that.

The family has taken a trip to the zoo. My husband is showing our kids one of the tigers while I deal with the fussy baby.

Husband: “Look, kids! It’s a Tiger!”

Kids: “Woooow!”

They’re marvelling at the Tiger, majestic even though he’s sleeping.

Husband: “I think that’s a Himalayan Tiger.”

Youngest Kid: “How can you tell?”

Husband: “Because him-a-layin right there.”

Youngest Kid: “Dad… don’t ruin Tigers.”

My parents are bringing my younger siblings and me to the aquarium. One of the staff members is giving a talk about the crabs they have in the rock pool, with some live demonstrations.

Aquarium Staff: “And it’s these adaptations that make the crab such an effective predator. In fact, there’s a consensus among biologists that several routes of evolution all develop towards a crab.”

My dad, the long-suffered prankster, raises his hand.

Dad: “Scientists realised that and tried to speed things up by combining crab DNA with that of a cheetah.”

Aquarium Staff: “I bet things went sideways real fast.”

My dad stands there motionless. No one has ever stolen his dad joke punchline before. His face says it all.

Aquarium Staff: “I’m a dad too, mate. Plus, I work with crabs. Heard ‘em all. Anyway, who wants to see the giant spider crabs?!”

My dad was sulking the rest of the day.

This story is part of our Editors’-Favorite-Stories-Of-2025 roundup!

Read the next story!

Read the roundup!