(I’m working at the enquiry desk when a worried student approaches me for help with the library computer she is using.)

Student: “I’m using Word, and the screen just keeps scrolling up even though I’m not doing anything. It’s… it’s like it’s got a ghost!”

(Suspecting I know where the problem lies, I follow her to her workstation beside two of her friends. I take one look at the setup on her desk and say:)

Me: “Your phone’s leaning on the keyboard.”

(I turn and walk away to avoid an awkward moment, but her friends aren’t so restrained. They fall about laughing while she is really embarrassed. Later, as they are leaving the library, I overhear her say to her friends:)

Student: “I really thought it had a ghost!”

For several years I lived directly above a pub. It was incredibly noisy, but I loved being able to watch people coming and going. There were frequently stag dos dressed in elaborate fancy dress, such as blue body paint to look like Smurfs or mascot costumes.

Around midday on a Saturday, I suddenly heard a very loud horn blast followed by cheering from the pub. I looked out my window to see a man in a full fox costume, including a giant head and tail, sprinting down the street. He was soon followed by a yelling group of men, half dressed as dogs and half wearing tweed suits, high socks, and caps and running with children’s toy stick horses between their legs. One man carried a bugle and repeatedly blew on it as the group ran down the street after the fox, presumably going to the next pub.

(I work for a bakery in a fairly affluent area. Because of the owner’s ties to the community, many of our customers feel they are entitled.)

Woman: “I’m here to collect 200 cupcakes for my son’s birthday party.”

Me: “I wasn’t aware that we needed to supply this. Did you place an order?”

Woman: *scoffs* “Of course not. My kind doesn’t make ‘orders’”

Me: “Then you aren’t getting 200 cupcakes.”

Woman: *affronted* “How dare you! What about those?!”

Me: “Those are for the local hospital, to be donated to the children’s ward.”

Woman: “I’ll take those, for free because of your attitude.”

Me: “They aren’t for sale. As I said, they’re for [Hospital]. They’re for charity.”

Woman: “You do not know the meaning of the word! I’ll just get in touch with [Owner] and let him sort you out.”

(She steps outside and speaks on her phone for a short while. She stares at me triumphantly through the window, and I start to worry that perhaps the owner will take her side. He arrives and they talk. She is getting very irate, and refusing to follow him through the door.)

Owner: “I’m sorry, [Woman], but I would much rather do this inside.”

(She glares at me while following him in.)

Owner: “Okay, what is going on?”

(I explain, and she interrupts me enough that the owner is starting to get very annoyed.)

Owner: “So, did you even place an order?”

Woman: “Do I look like someone who orders?!”

Owner: “You have to order if you want something in bulk. Even with everyone in today, we wouldn’t have the facilities to make that large a batch in two hours!”

Woman: “Then give me those cakes. Be charitable for once, you greedy c***!”

(This pushes him over the edge.)

Owner: “Those are for the hospital that took care of my daughter while she had leukaemia. I might have tried to pull something together for you, but now, you are getting out of my bakery and never coming back.”

Woman: “BUT MY SON’S BIRTHDAY! YOU’RE RUINING IT!”

Owner: “I haven’t ruined anything; you have. You’re a self-entitled b****, and you are now leaving.”

(He dragged her to the door and pushed her out. She screamed for a while and threw her bag at the window, which smashed it. She went pale and fled. The police were called and her husband offered to pay for the window. It was then that we learned that it wasn’t her son’s birthday, but actually, she had agreed to donate to the same hospital we were. She knew we were donating, and just assumed we would do whatever she wanted if she lied about why she needed them.)

Customer: “I want a large coffee, please.”

Me: “Would you like milk, sugar, sweetener?”

Customer: “Yes, I’d like infinite sugar!”

(I laugh, thinking she is joking, but she stares at me, confused.)

Me: *still thinking she’s joking* “Well, since infinity is an unachievable number, maybe we can work a little lower?”

Woman: “Hmph! I’m not moving until you get me a coffee with infinite sugar!”

(She was serious, and stood glaring at me until the police were called to have her removed. She comes in from time to time asking for the same thing. Management won’t ban her because they find it funny. She’s known as Sugargirl to our regulars.)

I was buying a suitcase in a large chain store, and the cashier seemed a little confused as to what to do with it. The cashier next to her stepped in to help, explaining that she had to remove the packaging inside.

That’s when the light bulb went off in her head, and she said, “Oh, I didn’t realize it opened!”

I honestly don’t know what she thought I was buying.