(We have a coworker who is in the habit of playfully saying, “You’re fired,” every time someone makes a mistake. No one ever takes him seriously, since he is always smiling and laughing when he says it. That changes one day when we are training new hires.)

Coworker: “You’ll need to hold down the shift key while you make this selection so it’s a perfect square.”

(The new hire fumbles about a bit and has difficulty pressing two buttons at the same time. I can see they’re frustrated, and my coworker attempts to make a funny in order to put them at ease.)

Coworker: “You’re fired. Here. Let me take over, and I can show you again.”

(The new hire is oblivious to the second half of what my coworker has just said. They start to get a glassy look in their eyes and totally lose any color in their face. I can see that they have the first-day jitters very bad, so I step in to calm them down.)

Me: “Oh, no no no no! He was just trying to be funny! You’re not fired at all!”

New Hire: *wipes their eyes and looks at me* “You’re terrible! I quit!”

(They storm into the back room to where the time cards are and where we keep our personal belongings.)

Me: *to coworker* “I never thought that your joke would ever get that kind of reaction, but I guess you have to be more careful from now on.”

(The new hire suddenly appears behind us with a smile.)

New Hire: “Gotcha!”

My mom and stepdad are tidying up in the basement, and I go downstairs to see if they need a hand. My stepdad is going through his wine rack and hands me two bottles of wine. He tells me to go put them on the kitchen counter. My mom says they should go in the sink because they are dusty.

They then start bickering — like only a married couple can — about where the bottles should go, so I walk upstairs and put one bottle on the counter and one in the sink.

My mom calls me a smart-a**, but no one can say that I didn’t follow instructions!

(I’m 15 years old. I’m at my general practitioner, because I noticed I’ve been having trouble with my eyesight.)

Me: “I can see quite all right with my left eye, but when I only use my right eye, I notice a clear difference in brightness.”

Doctor: “Hmm, let’s see. Could you cover your left eye?”

(The doctor walks to a board with letters and starts pointing at them.)

Me: “B… C… F… X…”

(The doctor goes to the smaller letters, which are more difficult to read. But at some point, I’m totally unable to see where he is pointing.)

Doctor: “This one, please.”

Me: *no verbal reaction*

Doctor: “Hello? [My Name]! This one! Can you read it?”

Me: “I can’t see what letter you are pointing at.”

Doctor: “Oh, wait. Maybe I shouldn’t use a white pen on a white background for this.”

(I go to a restaurant with my family for no special occasion other than no one wanted to cook. When we get there, we sit down, and our waitress takes our drink orders and returns with them very quickly. Most of this conversation takes place in French, but I will translate.)

Waitress #1: “What can I get you today?”

Mom: “Soup and salad.”

Sister: “Cactus chips—” *thick potato chips with a spicy dip* “—and a jambalaya, but with gluten-free noodles, please.”

Waitress #1: *missed the gluten-free part* “Okay, would you like garlic or cheesy bread?”

Sister: “No, gluten-free, please.”

(The waitress make a correction on her pad.)

Waitress #1: “Oh, yes. Sorry.”

(I know I will mispronounce the name of what I want in French, so I just point to the picture.)

Waitress #1: “Okay, perfect.” *leaves to put in the order*

(The waitress brings the cactus chips and my mom’s soup with no problem. It is when the main course arrives that things get funny. [Waitress #2] brings our food. My sister is given gluten-free noodles with some mystery sauce on it. It is clearly not her jambalaya.)

Sister: “I ordered a jambalaya with gluten-free noodles.”

([Waitress #2] is confused, but takes it for the correction.)

Waitress #1: *comes out after being informed of the mistake, while filling water glasses at another table* “Oh, I am so sorry. It is my fault; I entered it in wrong.”

Sister: “Oh, it’s okay. We understand the mistake.”

(The waitress sees my mom’s nearly empty lemonade glass. It looks a bit like ice water and not lemonade, and the waitress fills it with her water pitcher. While filling she realizes her mistake.)

Waitress #1: “This wasn’t water, was it?”

(We all lose it and burst out laughing. My mom tears up from laughing so hard. While we compose ourselves, the waitress replaces her drink.)

Waitress #1: *with the new lemonade* “I am so sorry, again.”

Mom: “It is okay; that was hilarious! We do understand. But it is getting late and we have to go; can you put that jambalaya directly into a to-go container for us?”

Waitress #1: “Sure.”

(Later, [Waitress #2] is trying to help her colleague and brings out the jambalaya. We are trying not to laugh at this waitress, and when she leaves we just snicker about the new mistake. [Waitress #1] returns to the prep area, sees the food is missing, and hurries to our table.)

Waitress #1: “Sorry, when I went in for your food it was already gone. I will take it and put it in a to-go container for you.” *takes the food and leaves*

Me: *when the waitress returns so we can pay* “Don’t worry. You know, there is always that one table where, no matter what you do, nothing goes right.”

Waitress #1: *relieved* “Yes, and unfortunately it was you guys, today.”

(While paying we told her some other mishaps that happened to us in other restaurants, like the time I had a ketchup bottle explode in my face. We left her a nice tip. We are calling this outing the comedy of errors. We want this waitress again; I mean, you can’t beat this two-for-one special: buy food get a free show.)

(My fiancé has bought my Christmas present, and can’t resist giving me a hint.)

Fiancé: “You’ll take it everywhere, and everyone will want to use it.”

Me: *joking* “Is it a handkerchief?”

Fiancé: “No.”

Me: “Is it a lighter?”

Fiancé: *looks shifty* “No…”

Me: “Is it the Zippo we saw with the American flag on it?”

Fiancé: “D*** it.” *goes into the other room, comes back, and hands me the lighter with a crestfallen and annoyed look on this face* “Now I have to think of a new present.”

(There have been no more guessing games or hints about presents. Also, I’m not allowed to have lighter fluid for it until after Christmas!)