(A somewhat well-known professional athlete and minor celebrity is making a home-delivery order. He is with an older woman.)

Me: “Did you find everything all right today?”

Customer: *grunts*

Me: “Can you please fill out this form for delivery?”

Customer: *grunts*

Me: “Your address where you’d like it delivered?”

Customer: “Uh…” *turns to woman* “Mom, what’s my address?”

(Gives address.)

Me: “… and your signature?”

Customer: “My what?”

Me: “Signature. Autograph?”

Customer: “Uh, oh, right!”

Me: “Can you please provide you cell phone number for the delivery?”

Customer: “Um…”

Me: “Your cell number?”

Customer: “Mom, what’s my cell phone number?”

(My boyfriend and I have just wrapped a Sci-Fi/Fantasy convention for which we both work as staff, and are walking about looking at supplies and talking about things we need for the Con next year.)

Boyfriend: “We should pick up a binder to start planning a wedding, too.”

Me: *silent for a moment, then nodding*

Boyfriend: “Did I just… I guess it’s official, then.”

Me: “Yeah. We have to come up with a better story to tell my mother.”

(Proposing between conversations about our mutual work: he’s a keeper.)

(My wife and I are shopping for a gift for her best friend’s baby shower, in an area where French is commonly spoken. She is mixed race, but looks South Asian like her mother. We both have large, visible tattoos and a lot of piercings. My wife approaches one of the employees, who is chatting with another employee in French.)

Wife: “Excuse me. Where would I find [Brand]?”

Employee #1: *irritated, in English* “In aisle [number].”

Wife: “Thank you.”

(The aisle isn’t very far from where the employees are standing, so we can hear everything they’re saying. I don’t speak French, but my wife’s father is from France and therefore she speaks it fluently. She relays their conversation to me after we leave.)

Employee #1: *in French, to Employee #2* “Ugh, what’s a whore like her doing in here! They shouldn’t even be allowed to have kids.”

Employee #2: *in French* “A white man with an [ethnic slur] like her. It’s a disgrace.”

Employee #1: *in French* “We should charge them double for everything. That’ll teach them.”

(My wife finds the product she is looking for and takes it up to the counter. Employee #1 starts to ring her up.)

Employee #1: *in English* “Did you find everything alright?”

Wife: *in French* “I did, thank you. [Brand] is my favorite. I hope my best friend will get as much use out of this as I got out of mine.”

Employee #1: *stunned, speechless*

Wife: *in French* “Now, make sure you get the proper price on that. Oh, and I’ll be calling your manager.”

(She did call the manager later, and it turned out that that wasn’t the first time the employees had done something like that. They were fired, and my wife was given a coupon for future visits.)

(I was never too fond of answering the phone at my workplace. It’s usually the cashiers’ job, and I never bothered to learn the proper protocol. The phone happens to be ringing one day, and no cashiers were present to answer the call.)

Me: “Hello, [Store].”

(I recognize the voice on the line. It’s my manager.)

Manager: “Who am I speaking to?!”

Me: “Oh, hi, [Manager].”

Manager: “You don’t answer the phone like that! Follow the proper script!”

Me: “Okay, sorry.”

(Once again, answering the phone normally isn’t my job, so I thought nothing of it. A couple of days later, the phone rings again, and I’m the only one left to answer it again.)

Me: “[Store]. How can I help you?”

Manager: “I told you not to answer the phone like that! Start practicing the script!”

Me: “Oh, yikes. Hi, [Manager].”

Manager: “Do that again, and I’ll write you up!”

(He seems pretty serious, so I actually practice the script, in the unlikely event that the phone would ring again when no one else is available. By some stroke of luck, the phone rings again about a week later, with no one to pick it up.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store] located in [Location]. This is [My Name] speaking. How may I be of assistance today?”

Manager: “What the f***?! When did we start using pre-recorded messages?!” *hangs up*

(I’ve given up. When the phone rings and no one is there to answer, I walk away from it, like everyone else has been doing.)

(I vend at local arts and craft shows, selling handmade hats.)

Customer: “These hats are great! Do you know Sandy?”

Me: “Sandy? I don’t think so.”

Customer: “Oh c’mon! Sandy! He makes hats, too! Y’know, in Arizona? He’s famous!”

Me: “Nope. Can’t say I’ve met him.”