(I am working in a two-storey men’s clothing store. It is almost closing time, and I am the only one working on the bottom floor, when an elderly man shuffles in and approaches me.)
Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”
Customer: “Uh…” *stares at me for a while*
Me: “Yes? Is there anything you were looking for?”
Customer: *continues staring*
Me: *slightly creeped out, but keeps smiling* “Okay, well, let me know if you need anything!”
Customer: *suddenly points to a pair of display pants* “Get me those in XL.”
(I tell the customer to stay while I run upstairs to fetch the requested pants. However, when I come back down, the man’s pants are down and his family jewels are on full display.)
Customer: *still staring creepily at me* “You’re pretty.”
Me: *slowly turns around and goes back upstairs*
(I quit a few days later.)
Coworker #1: *reading an article about American Football player Rob Gronkowski* “‘It’s looking like a very Merry Gronkmas. New England Patriots tight end debuted a new ugly sweater that features a photo of him spiking a Christmas present.’ Apparently there’s a contest where you can win a dinner with him and a surprise guest, plus a bunch of signed memorabilia.”
Coworker #2: “I don’t care about the memorabilia; I’d just take the dinner with him. He’s hot.”
(The conversation continues about Gronkowski and football. A few minutes later…)
Me: “Wait… is ‘tight end’ a football term?”
(Everyone laughs.)
Coworker #1: “Yes, it’s a hybrid position, like a wide receiver.”
Me: “Oh, I was thinking they were talking about Gronk’s ‘tight end.’”
Coworker #2: “Well, that’s a good description, too.”
(My girls’ soccer team is having a trip to Munich for some sightseeing and visiting the famous soccer arena located there. Our families are invited to come along, too, and my family goes with us since none of us have ever been to Munich. We are on a tram to our next location, when suddenly my seven-year-old sister exclaims:)
Sister: “Mama! There’s a purple banana; I want one, too!”
(We all turn around to see what she is pointing to, and sure enough, it is billboard of a campaign against AIDS, featuring a bundle of bananas in brightly colored condoms. All of us teenage girls turn beet-red when we realize that the whole car has heard us, but my mom is unfazed.)
Mother: “Sure, sweetie, but it’s not really purple. It’s just protection to make sure the banana doesn’t get sick.”
Sister: “Aw, that’s boring. Then I don’t want one.”
(I’ve considered getting my sister a banana in a purple condom for her 16th birthday, just to remind her of it.)
(My friend is working the drive-thru. After the customer gives his order and pulls to the window, this lovely exchange happens:)
Customer: “You know, a guy like me likes to see girls like you on her back, preferably naked.”
Friend: “You know, a girl like me likes to see guys like you in an oven, preferably with it preheated to 350 already.”
Customer: “I was just trying to be flattering.”
Friend: “You were just trying to be raunchy for shock value, and it didn’t work.”
Customer: “What if I had feelings for you?”
Friend: “Wouldn’t change mine toward you, which is hungry.”
Customer: “As in good hungry?”
Friend: “As in Hannibal hungry.”
Customer: *drives off*
(A customer on his phone approaches me.)
Me: “Can I help you today, sir?”
Customer: “Yes, but I’m afraid it might be unethical.”
Me: *slightly worried* “Well, what is it I can do for you today?”
Customer: *turns around and pulls down the waistband of his jeans* “So, my wife is next door getting me new pants, and I can’t remember what size I am. Would you mind taking a look at the tag?”
