I work as a staff member at an airport club, the kind that you have to pay to belong to and that offers WiFi, desks, tables, phones, snacks, and so on for busy travelers.

The men’s room is located directly adjoining the staff office, with doors that are virtually identical except for small stylish plaques saying, “MEN,” and, “STAFF.” Consequently, it’s not uncommon for men in a hurry to lunge into the staff office, do a double-take, and then excuse themselves and go next door.

Today — Super Bowl Sunday, as it happens — a couple of us were sitting at the table in the staff office when suddenly the door flew open and a man all but ran into the room, with his fly unzipped and his junk already out. I can only assume he expected it to be a one-seater that he wouldn’t have to share with anyone.

Embarrassing for him, embarrassing for us. But what really made it memorable was his response to the situation. Standing there gaping at us, he shouted, “I’LL SUE!” 

Then, he turned and ran back out… without making any real effort to cover himself.

I looked at my coworker and she looked at me. “Did that really happen?”

(I am the cashier at a popular ice cream fast food chain. This occurs as I am serving a couple who are approximately in their late sixties.)

Me: “Hello! What can I get for you today?”

Customer #1: “Hello, I’ll take a chocolate sundae and whatever she’s having.”

Customer #2: “I’ll just have an ice cream cone, please. Thank you for paying; that’s quite sweet of you.”

Customer #1: “Eh, from this I’m just hoping to get lucky!”

(The customers chuckled a bit as I was struggling to contain my laughter!)

(I work as an online English teacher for children in China. When I only have a single student for a low-level class, I play a game where they say “apple” and I jump, and then we switch roles. This class, I have a six-year-old girl as my only student.)

Me: “Apple!”

Girl: *jumps*

(Something about her doesn’t look right, but I don’t realize what it is at first.)

Me: “Apple!”

Girl: *jumps*

(That’s when I realize what the problem is: she is naked from the waist down! The mother shouts something in Chinese and the girl sits back down and stays seated as the mother rushes over with a pair of panties and helps her put them on.)

Mother: “Sorry! Sorry! She, uh… pee-pee! She pee-pee!”

Me: “It’s all right.”

(Once the girl had her underwear on, class resumed as normal for the rest of the session. My guess as to what happened is that the girl had wet herself right before class and, not having enough time to clean her up properly, the mother simply stripped off the soiled clothes and didn’t think I’d notice during the 25-minute class.)

(I am busy putting stuff up in our back-to-school aisle when a nervous older woman sidles up to me.)

Older Woman: “Excuse me… Um… Do you happen to have… Um… a certain magazine? Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

Me: “We might, ma’am. What’s the magazine?”

Older Woman: “Playboy.”

Me: “Um, no, ma’am, we don’t carry magazines like that here.”

Older Woman: “Well, someone told me that I would recognize one of the girls there in the magazine.”

Me: *blushes* “Okay, ma’am, well I’m not sure what you’d like me to do.”

Older Woman: “You can order it, right?”

Me: “No, it’s not something that we carry.”

Older Woman: “How about the other store in the area?”

Me: “No, our company does not stock that magazine.”

Older Woman: “You’re a horrible person! Where’s your manager?”

(I walk around the corner, put on a different name tag and my reading glasses, and come back.)

Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”

Older Woman: “Yes! Your employee won’t sell me smut!”

Me: *close to tears laughing* “Well, ma’am, he’s right. We don’t carry any smut. Please go somewhere else.”

Older Woman: “I don’t say this to everyone, young man, but f*** you.”

(The customer stormed out. I thought my disguise would be pretty obvious, but she was probably just too mad to care.)

(I’m working the speedy checkout line and checking a young woman out when an older gentleman of about eighty appears behind her, looking as if he rolled out of bed and drove straight here.)

Me: “Good morning, sir. How are—”

(He literally throws a package of ultra-thin condoms at me, along with a twenty.)

Me: “Would you like this in a bag, sir?”

Customer: *grunts angrily*

(I ring him up, and the drawer opens to give him his change.)

Customer: “Can you keep the change as a tip?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept tips.”

Customer: *angrily* “Well, hurry up, then! She’s at home waiting for me!”

Me: “I am doing my best, sir.”

(I count out his change.)

Me: “Have a nice day, sir.”

(He then grumbled, snatched the bag from me, and then proceeded to run out the door.)