(In our magic section, we have some fortune-telling items. They’re obviously meant for little kids and none of us take them seriously. One day, I see a customer looking very disapprovingly at that section.)  

Me: “Hi, is there anything I can help you with?” 

Customer: “No, but you can tell me why you’re selling pendulums and tarot cards for kids.” 

Me: “For fun. They’re just little toys.” 

Customer: “No, they’re not for fun. I’m a psychic medium, and you’re actually generating spiritual energy with those. Pendulums and tarot cards are dangerous, as well as ouija boards. They are not for kids, and they are not to be played with.” 

(At this point, I have to excuse myself; I can’t keep a straight face anymore. A couple of minutes later, I’m at the cash desk, and the same customer comes up, still looking very disapproving. At our store, all transactions begin by asking for the customer’s phone number.) 

Me: “Can I get your phone number, please?” 

Customer: “No, but you can get me the head office’s phone number.” 

(I gesture my manager over, who gives the customer the head office’s number while the customer complains to her.)

Customer: “I don’t agree with you selling pendulums and tarot cards to kids. I’m a psychic medium, and low-level spirits can actually be summoned with those, and they can attach themselves to kids, and it’s not pretty when they do.” 

Manager: “Well, we appreciate your feedback, ma’am. Here’s the phone number for our head office, and if you call them and give them your feedback I’m sure they’ll take that into account.” 

(The customer leaves, still not very happy with us. My manager and I managed to keep straight faces the whole time, but I’m starting to smile a bit about it now.) 

Next Customer In Line: “Man, that lady was a nutcase.”

(I work for a vet. The phone rings.)

Me: “[Clinic], this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Client: “Hi. I got a card in the mail that my cat is due for a checkup, so I’d like to schedule that.”

Me: “Certainly. May I have your last name?”

Client: “It’s [Last Name].”

Me: “Okay, and is this for [Cat]?”

Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, according to our records, it looks like [Cat] is overdue for her upper respiratory and distemper vaccine. Would you like to have that boosted?”

Client: “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to my husband about that. Can I let you know when I come in for the appointment?”

Me: “Of course.”

Client: “We’ll have to pray about it and dowse to decide.”

(As far as I know, dowsing refers to holding sticks to try and find groundwater. I have no idea how the client intends to use it to decide whether to vaccinate her cat.)

(It’s Ash Wednesday, and I have an ash mark on my forehead from having gone to mass earlier in the day; it’s a once-a-year deal some Christians do at the beginning of Lent, a period of preparation before Easter. My next college class is about to start, and some students are laughing about a joke one told. The teacher calls the class to order, and the students are still snickering. We students have been in the same series of classes for three years, but the teacher is new and he doesn’t realize someone told a joke before he entered. He keeps shooting them stern looks while starting his lesson.)

Teacher: *sternly to the laughing students* “That is enough. I can’t believe you’re laughing about this; I expect you to be more adult.” *normal tone, to me* “[My Name], you have something on your forehead, and instead of quietly pointing it out to you, your classmates are mocking you.”

Me: “They’re laughing at a joke. It’s Ash Wednesday.”

Teacher: “You mean, you know it’s there?”

Me: “Yes, it’s on purpose. Thanks for looking out for me, though.”

Teacher: *turning red* “Everyone, never mind. Today’s lesson…”

I work in the bookstore of a very small town. We get some religious and conservative folk here. I’m female, bisexual, and have a long-distance girlfriend. I’m wearing a cross she gave me for our one-month anniversary. I’m at the register when a group of three customers all in their late teens or early twenties, the same as me, comes up.

Customer #1:
“Do you have any Bibles here?”

Me:
“You know, I’m not sure. Let me ask [Coworker].”

I ask [Coworker] and she takes them over there. They return with a Bible and proceed to check out.

Me:
“I’m glad you found everything okay.”

Customer #1:
“Yes, you’re going to have to order some more Bibles now.”

I nod and start to ring her up, telling her the total and giving her change. Another customer notices my cross.

Customer #2:
“Ooh, your cross is so pretty. What’s it made of? Is it amethyst?”

Me:
“Thank you. It’s black diamond, actually.”

Customer #2:
“That’s really pretty. Who gave it to you? What does it mean to you?”

Me:
“It’s actually from my girlfriend.”

There’s a noticeable pause from everyone.

Customer #2:
“Oh, it’s from… your special friend?”

I don’t want to make a scene, so I finish ringing the customer up and hold out her bagged Bible, smiling.

Me:
“Here you go. Have a great day!”

The fact that someone so willingly misinterpreted the meaning of “girlfriend” really took the cake that day.

I was a customer in a chain restaurant and was seated at the bar. A customer near me ordered a cocktail. The bartender/waitress made the cocktail and the customer took a sip and complained it was too sweet. The bartender/waitress apologized and explained she had had to look up how to make that drink and offered to make a different cocktail.

The customer ordered a different cocktail, a common one, and the bartender/waitress made it and gave it to the customer, who was satisfied.

The customer and dining companions then decided to move from the bar to a table for dinner. As they were moving, the customer left the too-sweet drink on the bar, and her dining companion noticed and said, “Drink it anyway! You can’t throw away alcohol; it’s against my religion!”