(I work at the fitting rooms of a retail store. Two women are trying on bathing suits. They each have had obvious plastic surgery and enormous racks.)

Customer #1: *dumps a pile of bikinis on my desk* “None of these fit! It’s ridiculous that your store doesn’t carry anything to fit me.”

Customer #2: “Don’t waste your breath… she wouldn’t understand. Look at how tiny her boobs are!”

Me: *speechless*

Customer #1: “Honey, let me give you my brother’s card. He can give you MUCH better boobs.”

Customer #2: “He did mine too! Look how bouncy they are!” *jiggles chest*

Me: “I’m… okay with C-cups, thanks.”

Customer #1: “Call him if you change your mind! Life is better with huge boobs!”

(I work at a store that sells area rugs. We take a fair amount of phone calls from people who have questions regarding area rugs.)

Me: “[Store], this is [My Name].”

Caller: “Hello? I have a question. Can you help me?”

Me: “Of course, what is your question?”

Caller: “I can’t get it to stay up!”

Me: “Oh… um… okay. What do you mean?”

Customer: “My area rug! It’s old and I love it, but recently I can’t get it to stay up. The… what are they called? Fibers? They are all crushed and won’t stay up!”

Me: “Oh, I see.”

Customer: “I’ve been vacuuming it non-stop on all the different settings. It’s not as stiff and thick as it used to be. No matter how hard I suck, it just won’t stay up!”

Me: *trying to stay composed* “Alright, well that does tend to happen with age. Rugs tend to get pile-crushing after long periods of heavy traffic.”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me I can’t get it up because it’s old?!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, that is exactly what I’m telling you.”

(I manage to keep it together for the rest of the conversation. However, my manager, who can hear the entire exchange, is cracking up next to me the entire time. The innuendo was much thicker than her rug!)

(My friend and I are browsing a shelf by the entrance to the store when we overhear a 4 year old outside the shop.)

Boy: *to brother* “…and then mummy said ‘kiss my a**!’.”

Mother: “Jackson!”

Boy: *to mother* “Kiss my a**!”

Mother: “You stop that!”

(The boy runs into the store.)

Boy: “Hey mummy? KISS MY A**!”

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “I want some anus anus.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I want some anus anus!” *points to a perfume bottle of Anais Anais, pronounced “ah-nah-iss”*

Me: “Oh, yes, sorry. That’ll be [price]!”

(I’m folding shirts at the front of the store when an older man approaches me looking flustered.)

Me: “Hello. How can I help—”

Customer: “Where do you keep your Levi’s?”

Me: “Excuse me? This is a [Brand Name Store].”

Customer: “Yes. Of course it is. I’m not an idiot. I just want to know where your Levi jeans are!”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but we only carry our [Store Name] jeans because we are a [Brand Name Store]. We don’t carry Levi’s.”

Customer: *looking confused and a little angry* “That’s nonsense! Where can I get some then?”

Me: “Well, large chain stores sometimes carry them. You can try Fred Meyer, Target, or Costco.”

Customer: “Outrageous! I came here to this store specifically to get Levi’s!” *storms off*