I’m working near the customer service desk and overhear my manager take over a phone call from a coworker.

Manager: “This is [First Name] and I’m the manager here. I understand that—”

Pause.

Manager: “No, sir, my customer service agent was correct. It isn’t in stock and can only be ordered online. If you’d like, I can—”

Pause.

Manager: “No, sir. Shouting isn’t going to make it magically appear in our stockroom. I can order it for you to—”

Pause.

Manager: “Well, sir, guess what! Calling me that specific racial slur was the magic word and has allowed me to open the super special high security vault at the back of the back of the store where we actually do have one of those left in stock.”

Pause.

Manager: “No… not really you bigoted pr**k.” *Hangs up.*

It’s quiet until a guest storms up to the desk, clearly irritated.

Guest: “I want to speak to the manager! Right now!”

Me: “I’m the night manager. How can I—”

Guest: “—No! The real manager! The one from lunchtime!”

Me: “I’m afraid the day manager won’t be in until the morning, ma’am.”

Guest: “Then what room are they in? I’ll go wake them!”

Me: “…Ma’am, the manager isn’t here. She’s at home, not sleeping on the premises.” 

Guest: *Shocked.* “What do you mean she’s not here? Don’t you all stay at the hotel?”

She’s actually being serious! Well, I guess I could have some fun with this:

Me: “No, ma’am. All of us actually live together at the local insane asylum. We get bussed in together in batches for day and night shifts.” 

Guest: “…Oh.”

Me: *Leans in with a wide, unnerving grin.* “[Manager] is busy right now; she’s hosting her ward’s bingo game.”

Guest: *Quieter, sheepish even!* “Well… when her bus gets in, get her to call me…”

Me: *Tilts head, still smiling.* “Oh, don’t worry… we’ll send her riiiiight on over.”

The guest backs away toward the elevators, suddenly very quiet. I go back to my paperwork, chuckling to myself.

Oh, and the issue that she needed the “day manager” for? The weather page on her in-room TV service was set to Celsius. (It wasn’t, it rotates between Celsius and Fahrenheit but it always seemed to be Celsius whenever she looked).

Me: “Thanks for calling [Party Store], how can I help you?”

Caller: “Do you have any cheerleading pompoms?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we don’t have any.”

Caller: “Do you know you don’t have any, or do you just not want to go look for them?”

Me: “You caught me, ma’am. We actually have a hundred thousand in the back, but I lied to you because I personally want everyone else to have pompoms except you specifically.”

Caller: “*Click.*

I’m working the window of my ice cream truck.

Customer: “Hi, do you have any Choco Tacos?”

Me: “Sorry, we just sold the last one.”

Customer: “Can you check the back?”

I pause, then gesture to the tiny truck behind me.

Me: “This is an ice cream truck.”

Customer: “So? You’re not even going to check? How lazy are you?”

I pause, duck dramatically below the counter for two seconds, then pop back up.

Me: “I checked. We’re out.”

Customer: “All you did was duck! You didn’t check anything!”

I sigh, open the tiny glovebox at the front, peer inside, and slam it shut.

Me: “Nope, the warehouse says we’re empty.”

The customer just stares at me before settling for a popsicle.

I’m attending a state fair. I have just gotten food from a place selling breakfast sandwiches. I am standing in front of the booth about ten feet away from the counter. There is nobody else standing in front of the counter. I’m two bites into my sandwich, and these two teenagers approach me.

Teenager: “Are you in line?”

Me: *Mouth full.* “Yeah, I’m in line.”

Teenager: “Oh.”

The teenager and his friend go to stand behind me. I pause long enough to swallow my mouthful and turn to the teenagers.

Me: “Guys, I’m in the middle of eating my food. I’m obviously not still in line to get it.”