(I work in a busy branch of a fast food place. When customers order burgers, it’s store policy to ask if they would like it as part of a deal, which is cheaper than if the food in the meal was purchased separately.)

Me: “Hello, sir, what can I get you?”

Customer: *giving me a somewhat disdainful look* “I want a [Burger] with fries and a large [Soda].”

Me: “Would you like that as part of a meal or are you buying them separately?”

Customer: *visibly annoyed, and still glaring at me* “No, I’m having them as a snack.”

(I laugh politely, thinking that he was trying to be funny.)

Me: *smiling on the outside, dying on the inside* “Is that a large meal or are you buying them separately?”

Customer: “I already told you, I’m having them as a snack.”

(I look at my supervisor like a deer in headlights. She takes over.)

Supervisor: “Sir, are you having your order as a meal or are you buying each item separately?”

Customer: *growing quite rude and ill-tempered now* “I’ve already told him that I want them as a snack. Doesn’t he understand simple instructions?”

(My supervisor is quite protective of her trainees. I know that the look in her eyes means she wants blood, but she remains calm and collected.)

Supervisor: *trying to remain polite* “We don’t sell meals as “snacks,” sir. Are you buying it for yourself or—”

Customer: *almost shouting* “Of course I am. Now get me my large [Burger] with fries and a [Soda]!”

Supervisor: *faces me and tells me to get his food prepared* “I’m ringing that up as a meal deal, sir. That’ll be £5.45, please.”

(Customer begrudgingly slams a £10 note on the counter and gives me a scathing glare as I hand him his food in a bag and he leaves the store in a huff. My supervisor realises something.)

Supervisor: “Did he want his meal to-go?”

Me: “No clue. But I did.”

Me: “Hey, [General Manager], can I dye my hair purple?”

General Manager: “How purple?”

Me: “Really purple.”

General Manager: “Like the color of Barney?”

Me: “No, not Barney colored!”

General Manager: “I’ll let you dye your hair if everyone can call you Barney.”

(It’s one of the hottest days of the year so far and I’m working drive-thru rush by myself. Unfortunately the shake/sundae machine is broken and so we can’t make shakes, sundaes, or ice-creams. There are signs throughout the drive-thru and store saying that the ‘shake/sundae machine is broken,’ including on the speaker box. The line of cars is ridiculously long.)

Me: *over headset* “Hi, this is [Restaurant]. Can I please take your order?”

Car: *quite pleasantly* “Two soft serve cones, please.”

Me: “I’m so sorry sir, but we currently can’t make ice-creams as the machine is broken, as it says on the sign—”

Car: *getting angry* “Excuse me; it says the shake/sundae is broken, not the ice cream machine!”

Me: “I apologize sir, but the sundae machine is where we get ice cream fr—”

Car: *now shouting* “This is bloody ridiculous!”

Me: “I can offer you smoothies, cold drinks, or slushies, though, if that interests you—”

Car: *still shouting* “No! And now I’m stuck in this bloody queue!”

(As this goes on everyone else wearing headsets is staring at me bewildered. I run around preparing the next few orders for drive-thru, when my manager walks up, putting on a headset. I can still hear the ice-cream car’s engine at the speaker box, as no cars have moved yet.)

Manager: “[My Name], why is this car still waiting?”

Me: “Oh, the guy in the car—”

Manager: “You’ve got to move faster!” *turns on microphone* “Hello? Can I take your order?”

Me: “No, you don’t understand—”

(My manager stares at me angrily.)

Manager: “Are you there? Can I take your order?”

Car: “Ah, SHUT UP!”

(Everyone wearing a headset burst out laughing and I could finally get the first order (the one that’s been holding us up) out the window. The rest of the cars ran through smoothly and were quite nice despite the delay and the heat. Eventually the ice-cream car drove through, and the rude man in the front seat must have been at least 70 with a very embarrassed wife! I gave them both a cheery wave as they went past the window.)

(I work at a popular fast food chain which just so happens to be placed right next to a fairly popular burger place. Today I am working drive-thru for the first time when this happens.)

Me: “All right, take your time and order when you’re ready.”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll take a Whopper with no pickles.”

Me: “Um, we don’t have that.”

Customer: “That’s okay; I’ll just have a burger then.”

Me: “We don’t sell those either.”

Customer: “Then what do you have?”

Me: “We sell roast beef.”

(By this time the customer has realized something is amiss.)

Customer: “Where am I?”

Me: “You’re at [Store].”

Customer: “Oh, my god, I’m in the wrong place.”

(With that she takes off and I give her a friendly wave as she passes by. Needless to say everyone in the store is laughing as my manager comes to the front.)

Manager: “What happened?”

Me: “Customer was wanting [Burger Place] and came here by mistake.”

Manager: “That happens a lot. My favorite is when they come inside and still try to order from the wrong menu.”

(My husband and I are at a restaurant, sharing with family members the news that we’re expecting our first child.)

Male Relative #1: “Oh, so do you know what hospital you’re going to deliver at?”

Me: “No, not a hospital. We’re doing a home water birth. Much lower key and all of that.”

Male Relative #1: *perplexed* “[Husband], are you ok with this?”

Husband: “Sure, I’m fine with it. It means I get to sit on my own couch and [My Name] will be more comfortable.”

Male Relative #1: “Oh, yeah! Nice!”

Male Relative #2: “Really? I think I would have a problem if my wife wanted to do that.”

Husband: “I learned years ago that you don’t tell a grown woman what to do with her body.”

(Most of his family laughs, and his female relatives give him approving looks and thumbs-ups.)

Male Relative #2: *shrugs* “Okay, whatever. I’m just saying that if it were me, I think I would have a problem with it.”

Husband: “And that’s why you’re single.”

(And that’s why I married him!)