(I work as a customer service rep for a call center; I help with cell phones. A customer calls in to request a block be placed on a number that was calling her. After getting all of the prerequisite information:)

Customer: “You see, I need to put a block on a number that keeps calling me all hours of the night.”

Me: “I can understand that, ma’am. I’d be more than happy to apply that block to your line so you don’t have to deal with this anym—“

Customer: “Yeah, he told me he wanted to suck my a**. I’m just not into all of that kind of stuff.”

(I laughed so hard that I had to hand the call off to my floor supervisor. I never found out if she got that number blocked, but she DID tell every person she talked to that some creep wanted to do lewd things to her, and described those things in detail.)

(It’s my first weekend cashiering by myself after finishing my training. I’m at the speedy checkout at the slower end of the store finishing up helping a lady, when I look over and see three boys about my age walking up. I am a very innocent person, and one boy has a box of condoms.)

Boy: “I’m sorry. I lost a bet.”

Me: *not making eye contact* “You’re fine.”

Boy: “This is so awkward.”

Me: “It won’t be if you don’t make it.”

Boy: “It’s a good thing I’m Indian so you can’t see me blush.”

(It took everything I had to hold it together, and to this day I regret not asking what the bet was.)

(I work in a toy and game store that specializes in board games and other novelties. One of our sections is for adults — mostly drinking games, shot glasses, and other adult novelties. One of the items happens to be a pair of metal handcuffs that can be locked and unlocked with a key. They are definitely not a toy for kids.)

Kid: “Do you have handcuffs?”

Coworker: “Uh… technically, yes. But they’re not a toy. They’re metal.”

(The kid’s mom catches on pretty quickly and laughs. The kid, of course, does not understand.)

Kid: “Well, can I see them?

Mom: “No, they’re not meant for kids. We’ll look somewhere else.”

Kid: “Who are they meant for?”

Coworker: *getting desperate* “They’re, um… decoration. They’re not toys. You wouldn’t want to use them. They might get stuck, and you don’t want to have metal handcuffs stuck on you.”

Kid: “What are they used for?”

(The mom can’t hold back a laugh at this point.)

Mom: “They’re not used for anything. Let’s go.”

(The family left, though the kid still seemed disappointed to not get a pair of toy handcuffs. When they were out of the store, my coworker and I burst out laughing. We sometimes get kids asking about toy handcuffs, but none of them asked for as much detail as this kid.)

(I’m working in a store one Sunday afternoon, behind the counter, when I see a young lad of about eight or nine enter the shop along with his father. No one else is in the store at the time. On seeing me, the young lad rushes in front of his dad and says to me importantly:)

Young Lad: “My dad is after some Golden Vagina Tobacco, please.”

(The father approaches counter; he obviously didn’t hear what his son said.)

Me: *to the father* “I understand you are looking for some Golden Virginia Tobacco?”

Father: *totally unaware of why his son is now blushing furiously* “Yes, please.”

(I served him and off they went, and then I giggled quietly to myself.)

(My husband and I have the worst sense of humor. I am at my dad’s place helping to convert a bedroom into an office. The bedroom was used to house a renter a couple of months back, and my dad has been known to bring in interesting characters. While cleaning, I discover an odd article of clothing hanging in the closet that I don’t recognize. I pull it out, and, upon further inspection, I realize that what I thought was a top is actually a pair of black, peekaboo-level, fancy underwear. Horrified, I talk to my dad about it, and he says he believes it belonged to a renter, but to throw it away as the chances of being able to return it are pretty slim. About an hour later, I’m making German dumplings because I’m trying to make the family recipe gluten-free so my husband and I can have it together. My dad hates dumplings, so once I’m done, I end up throwing away the mix and dumplings that didn’t work. As I do so, I see the underwear. I head to the living room where my dad is watching TV.)

Me: “I hope no one is coming back for that underwear.”

Dad: “Why?”

Me: “Because I just took a dumpling on ’em!”

(Cue the groans of horror and disgust. On the bright side, my husband was quite proud of me for my negative-level quality of a joke! I definitely chose a good man!)