(A customer has knocked the lid off of a milk bottle and some has leaked onto the floor. She is very upset and embarrassed.)

Customer: “Oh, I’m so, so sorry! Can I clean it up? I’ll pay for it, too. It was my fault!”

(I look her dead in the eye and speak in a completely dead-pan voice.)

Me: “Hun, there’s no use crying over spilled milk.”

(My other customers laughed, and the look of relief on her face cheered me up no end!)

Boyfriend: *playing a video game on his phone* “I livered—“ *leveled* “—up!”

Me: “You’ve got to be kidney-ing me.”

Boyfriend: *silence*

Me: “That joke wasn’t organ-ic?”

(By coincidence, I land a job in the same office that a friend’s boyfriend, [Coworker], works at. As this is a small office, most of them have ended up being outside-of-work friends, so my friend is able to give me a rundown on what all of my new coworkers are like.)

Friend: “And that just leaves [Trainer]. She’s… well, she seems nice, but watch out because she’s homophobic.”

Me: “Oh, no! How did you find out?”

Friend: “I mentioned I was bi to her once, and she just gave me this really, really flat stare and didn’t say anything for a long time, and then changed the subject. She’s also a Christian who wears a crucifix all the time.”

Me: “Gotcha. No mentioning the liking-girls part, I guess.”

(When I start at the office, it turns out [Trainer] is actually my trainer. She does, in fact, wear a crucifix, and I spend weeks in anxious silence waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead, not only do I never hear a bad word from her about ANY race or orientation, but the only time I hear her say a word on the subject at all is when she puts forward a thought-out argument for why being trans is actually supported by the Bible. Eventually, I ask my friend and her boyfriend about it one night when we’re hanging out.)

Me: “So, [Friend], how did you find out [Trainer]’s homophobic? She seems nice to me.”

Coworker: “What? [Trainer] is definitely not.”

Friend: “She is. I mentioned I was bi, and she completely blanked me.”

Coworker: “Preeeeetty sure that never happened.”

Friend: “It absolutely happened–”

Coworker: “You know what? I’m calling her and asking.” *gets [Trainer] on speaker phone* “Hey, did you know [Friend] is bi?”

Trainer: “Uh. I didn’t. Do I need to do something with this information? Like, is this your way of saying you’re organising a coming-out party?”

Friend: “Bulls***! I absolutely told you before!”

Trainer: “What? When?”

Friend: “At that first party after [Coworker] and I got together.”

Trainer: “I don’t remember this conversation. At all.”

Me: “What did you actually say?”

Friend: “I don’t know. It was just after [Coworker] and I got together, and she said something like, ‘Congrats on not being single anymore,’ and I said, ‘Oh, I wasn’t single; I was on stand-bi.’”

Coworker: “Ha! That’s clever.”

Trainer: “Um? Did she just make some sort of hand signal or something?”

Coworker: “It’s a pun. Here, I’ll text it to you.”

Trainer: “Oh! Oh, I get it now. Sorry, [Friend], I guess I aced that conversation.”

Friend: “No, you did the absolute opposite of–”

Me: “Wait. Was that an asexual pun?”

Trainer: “Yep.”

Me: “And you’re… not homophobic?”

Trainer: “I’m what?!”

Coworker: “Nah, [Trainer] is just bad at jokes.”

(And so, the last lesson my trainer taught me was to not assume malice for what stupidity can explain.)

(I’m a server at a café. Typically, our customers are older couples who order their food and leave with little to no fanfare. However, one gentleman in particular sticks out. I notice his table has a finished tray and dirty dishes and I go to collect them. As I approach, he notices me and says:)

Customer: “Excuse me, the food was very good but I have one complaint. I found this–” *pulls out a dirty yellow handkerchief* “–under my egg sandwich. It’s disgusting. I’m a member of Health and Safety and this just doesn’t work. In fact, what’s your name?” 

(I’m shocked, a little scared, and nervous. I start to apologize before giving him my name. I’m expecting an angry outburst, but instead, he says:)

Customer: “Well, [My Name], you seem nice, so I’m going to make this situation just–“ *moves his hands and tucks the handkerchief in one of them, then opens it to reveal an egg* “–make it all disappear.”

(I realize he’s doing magic and I let out a little laugh of relief. At the same time, his wife approaches the table and sits down next to him. He grins at her, holds up the egg, and says to me:)

Customer: “I did order an egg sandwich, though. But as for the kerchief, I was only yolking.”

(I laugh again, totally on board with his joke now.)

Me: “That’s very punny, sir.”

(I move on with his trays, but not before I see him grin at his wife and say:)

Customer: “She thought it was funny!”

(His wife just kind of shook her head disappointedly at him. I don’t think this is the first time he’s done this, but it made my day!)

(It’s night four of a six-day, 300-mile bike trip. I’m staying at a hotel I’ve never been to before. Turns out, the building used to be a morgue, which they play up in the decor — skeletons, coffins, the equipment you always see in the medical examiner’s office on crime shows, etc. My room even contains the boarded-up elevator used to transport bodies throughout the building! No, I didn’t see anything about this online when I booked the room. As soon as I’ve checked in, I immediately text all of the above to my family, knowing they’ll find it as interesting as I do. My mom, sister-in-law, and one of my sisters gush over how cool it is with me. Dad, per his defining character trait, makes the obligatory puns:)

Dad: “Wow, it must be nice; people died to get in there!”

Dad: “They must be glad to see you; before you came, business was dead!”

Dad: “Actually, I wonder why they don’t use one of those as a slogan…”