I work at a chain of family restaurants in the northeast US, and this happens about 10:30 pm, a little over an hour before we close for the night. I am working the ice cream counter. A Jim Dandy is what we call our large banana splits.

Me: *To a waitress* “Hey, what do you call a Jim Dandy with no nuts?”

Waitress: “What?”

Me: “A Jane Dandy!”

She tells her customer, laughs, tweets it, and then tells the joke to another customer at carry-out.

Customer: “This is great; you guys should open a bar!”

I’m in line at a local petrol station waiting to pay for my fuel. The attendant is wearing a Rammstein shirt and is looking terminally bored. I decide to fix that by singing in pretty horrible German.

Me: “Willst du bis der Tod euch scheidet, treu ihr sein für alle Tage?”

The attendant is smiling for the first time since I came in.

Attendant: “That’ll be £56.80.”

His Coworker: “What the h***?”

Me & Attendant: “Pump NEIN!”

I am checking customers out during a very busy day. A woman is in my line with her very young son.

Son: “Mommy, did you fart?”

Everyone in the line hears this but remains deathly silent, while the mother goes a shade of red but says nothing. A few unbearable moments of silence pass.

Son: “Well? Did you, Mo—”

Mother: “Shut up!”

I’m working on a project at home and slice my thumb pretty bad. Don’t play with Exacto knives, kids! After forty-five minutes, the bleeding still hasn’t stopped, so my husband and I decide to head to the ER to see if I need stitches. 

Fortunately, the doctor is able to glue it back together and I don’t need stitches after all, but I do need a Tetanus shot. The doctor leaves the room and the nurse comes in.

Nurse: “Which arm would you like it in, sweetie?”

Me: “Is it going to cause any muscle soreness tomorrow?”

I ask her this because I’m a photographer and need to use my right arm. I know some shots have this side effect but can’t remember for sure. If it’s not going to cause soreness, then I prefer it in my right arm since I cut my left thumb and don’t want to double up on the discomfort, but if it is going to be sore, then I do want it in my left so my right arm can still be functional for work the next day.

I probably should explain all that, but it’s 1:00 am and I’m tired. 

Nurse: “Oh, no, you’ll be fine!”

Me: “Okay, right arm, then.”

She gives me the shot and is cleaning up and getting ready to leave when the doctor comes back in with my discharge instructions. 

Doctor: “Okay, so, your arm is going to be pretty sore tomorrow from the shot, but don’t worry; that’s completely normal.”

The nurse freezes in the doorway when he says this, and I look at her in shock. 

Nurse: *Muttering* “Rats, almost made it.”

Me: *Incredulous* “You dirty liar!”

I say this very jokingly because we’ve been lighthearted all along and in the grand scheme of things this doesn’t really matter much. 

Nurse: “If I had told you that you’d be sore, you would have refused the shot!”

I sigh over-dramatically, turning to the doctor.

Me: “I’m gonna need a work note.”

My company has been going through some dramatic restructuring. I’m in a coworker’s office going over some work I’m helping him with and what projects we need to look at in the new year. Our boss pops her head in.

Me: “We’re pretty much done here if you need him.”

Boss: “No, that’s fine. I’m just having a panic attack.”

Coworker: “I also want to have a panic attack after talking about everything we need to do this year.”

Me: “Me, too. Should we sit in here and have a panic attack meeting, then?”

We all laughed the hysterical laughter of the damned.