(I am a 30-year-old female. A male customer, some 15 to 20 years older than me, has been hitting on me and I have politely turned him down. A week later he comes back in to pick up a book he’d ordered.)
Customer: “I wasn’t asking you to marry me and have my children. I just thought you might like to be my mistress!”
(I work for a supermarket filling shelves when a male customer, roughly mid-forties, approaches me.)
Customer: “Excuse me.”
Me: “Yes, sir?”
Customer: “This can of tuna doesn’t have a pull ring.”
Me: “Yes, some of the larger ones don’t.”
Customer: “Then how the hell am I supposed to open it?”
Me: “With a can opener?”
Customer: “A what?”
Me: “A can opener.”
Customer: “What the hell’s a can opener?”
Me: “Umm… It’s a metal kitchen tool used to open cans.”
Customer: “I’ve never heard of such a thing in all my life!”
(I took him to the kitchen section and showed him the can opener and exactly how to use it. He thanked me and walked away, looking baffled.)
Many years ago I was working at a supermarket as night-fill staff, where we restock the shelves after closing time. It was about 10 pm, and the roller shutter was three quarters shut, the lights in the mall were off, and the front of the shop was full of boxes.
A woman crawled under the mostly-shut roller door, then asked if we were open and if she could buy a couple of things!
(We’ve been seeing one of our patients regularly for the six years I’ve worked in this intensive care unit, and according to my coworkers he’s been a fixture since he was four months old. He’s 15 now, suffering from a serious heart condition and awaiting a transplant. He’s one of the politest, funniest, and genuinely nicest young men I have ever come across. Today, finally, he’s getting his new heart. Typically organ donation is done completely anonymously in Australia, and we aren’t legally allowed to tell anyone who their organs came from. In this case, the heart is coming from a 19-year-old boy who was killed by a drunk driver. As uncommon as it is, he was brought to our hospital and his parents have agreed to turn off his life support and donate his organs, so his parents are still hanging around saying their final goodbyes after surgery. The procedure goes well and our 15-year-old patient is asleep in his room, 18 hours after surgery. I’ve just finished some paperwork and am sitting at the nurses station chatting to some of the nurses. The 19-year-old’s parents have come out of their son’s room and asked if there is anything left to sign. My colleague is walking them through the final forms for the funeral home when the alarms start sounding for our 15-year-old patient. Several of us break into a dead sprint and go to help him. We burst into his room all at once to find him sitting up in bed, absolutely mortified.)
Me: “[Patient], what’s happening? Are you feeling okay?” *I start checking him over*
Patient: “Yes! Everything is fine! I’m fine!”
(I hear a giggle from behind me and look down. The poor kid has a pillow across his lap and a box of tissues next to him on the bed. I deduce that he has been “test-driving” his new heart, and we all slink out of the room, leaving him on his own to deal with his embarrassment. As we come back to the desk, one of the nurses tells the others what happened. From behind us, we hear a short laugh. We turn and see the 19-year-old’s parents, both struggling to contain their laughter.)
Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t know you were there.”
(They break into uproarious laughter. It’s infectious, and eventually we’re all laughing. The 19-year-old’s mother eventually catches her breath enough to speak.)
Mother: “I’m sorry; I know it’s all supposed to be anonymous, but we know he ended up with our boy’s heart. Honestly, with the amount of time he spent in the bathroom as a teenager, I can’t think of anything more true to his memory than what that young man was doing!”
(It might have scared the h*** out of us when it was happening, but that teenager gave some good people a great laugh, exactly when they needed it.)
I am at a zoo with my school to learn about the animals, and one of the volunteers asks if there are any questions. I can’t remember my exact question, but I say something about “cages.”
The woman goes very stern and says, “We say, ‘enclosures!’”
Guilty, much?
