You Don’t Know Jack About Jackelopes

| Denver, CO, USA | Right | September 18, 2016

(The restaurant where I work is western-themed and a popular stop for tourists. I’m ringing a couple out at the on-site gift shop when the lady spots our stuffed Jackelope head mounted above the door.)

Lady: “Is that real?”

Man: “Of course it’s real. Look at it.” *he catches my eye and winks*

Me: *playing along* “Yeah, actually, [Founder] caught this guy out in the south field in the sixties.”

Lady: “Wow! You know I’m from [State] and we don’t have them there. I thought they were a myth!”

Man: “Probably because they look like regular rabbits from a distance, right?”

Me: “Yep. Right up until fall when the Jacks’ horns really come in. The does are harder to spot pretty much year round. Last year, I think, we had a four-prong Jack spotted on the property.”

Lady: “I guess you learn something new every day!” *she snaps a picture with her phone and begins to walk away* “I’m going to have to tell [Friend] that she was wrong…”

Me: *quietly to the man as he turns to follow her* “She’s going to kill you.”

Man: “Worth it.”

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I Can’t Believe You’re Not Telling People It’s Not Butter

| MN, USA | Working | September 17, 2016

(We had recently switched to using a weird shelf stable ‘butter’ to use with our bread. It tastes and has a texture similar to butter flavored popcorn oil. None of the employees like it and we all feel embarrassed by the constant complaints we’ve been getting about it. The wait staff seems especially unsure of what to say when asked what it is, since management doesn’t want us to tell people it’s not butter, as though no one will be able to tell the difference. I’m a cook, but we’re very slow so I’m standing in the dining room watching the television. The waitress is a few tables over, taking an order.)

Customer: “Do you use real butter on your bread?”

Waitress: *clearly unsure of what to say* “Um… [My Name], do we use real butter?”

Me: *laughs and walks back into kitchen*

Waitress: *looks embarrassed*

Customer: *making a face* “I’ll have my bread dry, then.”

(The waitress comes into the kitchen to give me the order.)

Waitress: I can’t believe you did that!”

Me: “You know it’s not butter.”

Waitress: “But you didn’t have to laugh!”

Me: “And you didn’t have to ask me a dumb question!”

Getting Salmon-ella

| PA, USA | Working | September 15, 2016

(My husband really wants to get dinner at a Latin American/Japanese fusion restaurant near where we are living at the time. He’s in the military so this would be one of his only chances to go to the restaurant. I agree even though I’ve been very queasy lately and nicer restaurants like that can be rude about substitution requests. After looking over the menu, I order the salmon well-done and with the sauce on the side.)

Waitress: “The salmon’s very good here. You should let our chef cook it like he wrote in the menu.”

Me: “Normally I would, but today I’m not feeling very well. I’d prefer to have it cooked through, please.”

(When the food comes out, my husband’s fusion dish looks amazing. My salmon isn’t even completely seared on the sides and is raw all the way through.)

Me: “Can I please have this cooked?”

Waitress: “It’s not like it’s easy to tell how cooked a piece of fish is. You should just eat it; you’ll like it better this way.”

Me: “I’m pregnant.”

(She took my plate back and brought cooked-through salmon. At the time I was still in my first trimester and had all-day and all-night morning sickness. The salmon was delicious and did not make me sick.)

Having A Ball With It

| OH, USA | Related | September 15, 2016

(My husband and I like to take our grandsons to a local pizza place which has a few arcade games. One machine always gives a player a small rubber ball at the end. They head home with at least four balls. Neither boy knows the other meaning of “balls,” so they innocently say things the rest of us have trouble not reacting to:)

Grandson #1: *still at the machine* “Grandma! We’re filling our pants with balls!”

Grandson #2: *after being told to take the balls out of their pockets for the ride home* “Nah… we like squishing our balls.”

Grandson #1: *coming back from the claw machine* “Look! I’ve got big balls now!”

Grandson #2: *after getting in trouble* “Papa took away my balls.”

Grandson #1: *in the car* “My balls dropped. [Brother] picked them up and is hiding them between his legs.”

Grandson #2: *after a particularly large haul* “I’m going to give Daddy some of these because he needs balls.”

Doesn’t Know No Beans

| Arlington, VA, USA | Working | September 15, 2016

(I am at a local chain of Mexican restaurants placing my order at the counter. Note that the quesadilla normally comes with black beans, cheese, and your choice of proteins and fillings.)

Me: “Could I get a quesadilla with chicken, cheese, jalapeño, onion, cilantro, and no beans?”

Employee: “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have no beans, only black beans and pinto beans.”

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