(I am looking for a new job and I come across an ad in the job search section of the website managed by the government. It is for a cutting-tool distributor, looking for an IT technician.)

Job Description:

– Manage the computer system. Upgrade needed.

– Update the inventory database.

– Manage the inventory.

– Create a new brochure and a new catalog.

– Update and maintain the website.

– Take care of shipping and receiving.

– Answer the phone.

Post: permanent, full time, 35 hrs/week.

Salary offered: $13.45/hr

(I passed.)

(This is the good old time of landlines. I answer the phone.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Yeah, pass me Bull.”

Me: “Who?”

Guy: *overly pronouncing* “Buuuuullllll! Paaaaassss meeee Buuuuullllll!”

Me: “I think you have the wrong–”

(Then, I hear a voice in the background.)

Background Voice: “What’s going on?”

Guy: *not even trying to muffle himself* “It’s his stupid sister; she won’t pass him!”

Background Voice: “Maybe his family doesn’t call him by his nickname but his actual name.”

Guy: “Oh, yeah… Can I speak to [My Brother]?”

Me: “Sure, stupid.”

(I work as a barista in a small coffee shop in a huge mall. One customer starts staring at the order menu in a concentrated manner.)

Customer: “I’ll have a cream latte.”

Me: “Excuse me? I really don’t know what that is.”

(I have never even heard this term before.)

Customer: “Yeah, a cream latte!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t carry it; if you want I can make you a regular latte?”

(She sighs loudly and finally agrees. She proceeds to look at the pastries.)

Customer: “What’s this?”

Me: “Banana bread.”

Customer: “Oh… what’s this?”

Me: “An apple turnover.”

Customer: “Oh!” *long pause* “What’s in it?”

Me: “Apples?”

(We kept at it for maybe five minutes and she even waited for me to bring her tray to her table.)

(In my early 20s, my best friend decides I should date her boyfriend’s roommate. We have seen each other at group gatherings, or whenever I go see my best friend at her place. I don’t think we are a good match, so I kind of just ignore the subtle pushing until my best friend decides to have a straightforward discussion about it.)

Best Friend: “Why don’t you try dating [Boyfriend’s Roommate]?

Me: “I don’t think we have anything in common, really. I don’t see us be anything, even as friends on our own I’m not sure…”

Best Friend: “Don’t say that; you both play [music instrument]!”  

Me: “Yeah, but I believe that’s where it stops. Otherwise, what hobbies does he have? Going to see strippers?”

Best Friend: “Oh, I’m sure that he’d stop going if he had a girlfriend.”

Me: “I’m not so sure about that.”

(I don’t want to start a debate about this kind of industry. I also don’t want to have to explain how starting a relationship with someone on the hope I’ll make the guy change is a terrible idea. People don’t change, seriously.)

Me: “Also, the only other thing I have seen him do or talk about is smoking weed.” *not legal at that time* “Which, you know, I’m no crusader against, but I still disapprove of recreational drug use.”

Best Friend: “You have to cut him some slack; he can’t drink alcohol.”

Me: “Well… I may drink a glass here and there, but I’m no big fan either. I just can’t see myself having to skirt around my own boyfriend whenever he’s under influence, or have me withdraw all the time for his habits.”

Best Friend: “Don’t be like that; he has some good points, too! Like, he’s still a gentleman and strives for higher education lately.”

Me: “He called me a witch when I said a three-syllable word!”

(Thankfully, she stopped there and so did the date pushing.)

(My brother works in a home improvement store. This day, two elderly customers, man and wife, come to him for advice.

Elderly woman: I have a question about your toilets. Which one has the lowest water level?

My brother (confused): You mean the smallest water tank? Well, this model right here-

Elderly woman (interrupting him): No dear, I’m talking about the water in the bowl, not in the tank.

My brother (still confused): It will vary depending on the size of the bowl and the size of the tank, I guess. But we don’t have any way to be sure until the toilet is installed and functional.

(The elderly gentleman has remained silent up to this point, but clearly seems to be irritated)

Elderly woman: No, that won’t do. We have to make sure the water doesn’t get higher than a certain level.

My brother: I’m sorry ma’am, but I cannot provide you with this information at this time. I would have to ask my supervisor. Do you mind me asking why the water level is so important to you?

Elderly man (screaming): BECAUSE WHEN I SIT DOWN, MY BALLS TOUCH THE WATER!