I work in a juice place. I’m serving a customer, with another one waiting.

Customer: “What’s in your freshly pressed apple juice?”

Me: “Just apples.”

Customer: “Oh, what does that taste like?”

Me: “…Just apples.”

Customer: “Can you make it taste like strawberries?”

Me: “Ma’am, would you like a strawberry juice?”

Customer: “No, I want an apple juice, but I want it to taste like strawberries.”

Me: “I can do an apple and strawberry juice mix, ma’am?”

Customer: “No, I want only apple juice, but I want it to taste like strawberries.”

Me: “I can’t do that, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well then, I’ll go somewhere that can! What do you think of that?!”

Before I can answer, the next customer helps me out.

Next Customer: “Oh, you should go to St. Joseph’s!”

Customer: “That sounds like a church.”

Next Customer: “It is! I heard they got a guy who can turn water into wine, so maybe you can hit him up about turning apples into strawberries?”

The customer was not amused and walked out. That next customer had a request that didn’t defy Heaven and Earth and got a 10% discount.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my older sibling, who just graduated from college. He’s treating himself to the trip he’s always wanted to go on. As he’s scrolling through flights on his laptop, Grandma, who is visiting for a few weeks, overhears the conversation.

Grandma: “What’s this I hear about you going to Japan? You shouldn’t go. It’s a godless country.”

Sibling: *Without looking up.* “I’m going to Kyoto, Grandma. There are literally two thousand temples and shrines there.”

Grandma: “Not the real God. Not Jesus. They killed Christians! And they… they bathe naked out in the open like heathens! That country’s being punished for turning its back on Him!”

I glance between them. My sibling finally closes the laptop and gives her a long look.

Sibling: “Grandma… I’m not sure it’s the Japanese who are being punished right now.”

The customer is looking at my nametag during the checkout process.

Customer: “What kinda name is that?”

Me: “It’s an old Aramaic name. It means—”

Customer: “Arabic?! If you move to America, you need to get yourself an easier name to pronounce.”

Me: “I was born here. And I said Aramaic, not Arab—”

Customer: “—Then your parents shoulda given you a Christian name. It’ll help you integrate here in the long run.”

Me: “Sir, it’s Aramaic.”

Customer: “Arabic, ‘aray-mic’, same thing. If you come to this country, you need a nice, strong Christian name!”

The customer checks out, and I’m left there to process. The next customer is giving me a sympathetic smile.

Next Customer: “My mom believes that Jesus was white and wrote the Bible in English, so I get it…”

I was just coming back from lunch break and heard the sound that could only be a person hitting the floor. Turning the corner, I saw a woman who had just collapsed. As I approached, I could see she was unconscious. A customer reached the woman at the same time I did.

Me: “Can you stay with her while I call 911?”

Customer: “Yes!”

I reached the phone in the shoe department and made the call. Returning to the woman, I found people had congregated around (of course they did). A man asked me:

Man: “Can I say a prayer?”

I have other things to deal with, and it seemed a harmless enough request so I quickly nodded my head before attending to the situation.

He suddenly took the hands of the persons to his right and left, and in a loud voice, started:

Man: “HEAVENLY FATHER, WE ASK YOU…” 

It was the last thing I expected. I mistakenly thought he would quietly say a quick prayer and go on his way. While he was loudly asking the Lord to help this woman, she woke up.

Collapsed Woman: *Looking around and then at me.* “Am I dead?”

I spent ten years conducting English-speaking tours of the Colosseum in Rome, Italy. This was the one question I got from a tourist that stumped me in all that time:

Tourist: “Is this where Jesus fought the lions?”

Me: “I… uh… no.”

Tourist: *Disappointed.* “Oh.”

The tourist’s spouse then chastised her:

Tourist’s Spouse: “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows that happened in Jerusalem.”

Tourist: “Oh yeah!”

Some of the other tourists are chuckling at the interaction. One of the teenage boys says:

Teenage Boy Tourist: “That sounds like a bad-a** movie!”

I couldn’t help but agree!