Coworker: “Hey, [My Name]! How’s it going?”

Me: “Pretty good, but my watch broke. I’m really ticked!”

Coworker: *starts laughing*

Me: *confused… slow realization* “That… wasn’t on purpose.”

(My boyfriend got us tickets to a race. While he’s scouting out the seats, I see a stand serving spiked hot chocolate.)

Me: “Hi! One spiked hot chocolate, please!”

Server: “Coming right up!”

(She begins making the drink, and starts to make small talk.)

Server: “So, who’s your driver?”

Me: *taken aback* “Err, my boyfriend?”

(She looks at me in confusion, then laughs, realizing I thought she was asking who my designated driver was.)

Server: “No, no, sweetie. I mean for the race.”

Me: *blushing furiously* “Oh! I don’t follow NASCAR; I’m here with my boyfriend.”

Server: “That’s okay. It’s still fun to sit and talk and watch them drive. Enjoy your hot chocolate!”

Me: “Thanks!”

(For the record, my boyfriend’s driver won!)

(My dad and I are going to a sporting event where a bubble machine is present, and some of them float into the parking lot. This happens when we see a large one. Note: there is a pair of girls who I can only assume were sisters.)

Dad: “Look at that bubble”

Girl: *runs across and pops large bubble*

Dad: “Look at that ex-bubble.”

Me: *to girl, in high pitched voice* “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?”

Girl: *failing to hold back laughter* “I couldn’t help it.”

Me: “What did that poor, innocent bubble ever do to you?”

Dad: “It was a large bubble, just asking to be popped.”

(I’m at a local baseball stadium with my family. Throughout the first five innings, we’ve been getting increasingly annoyed, because an out-of-state summer-camp bought up all the seats around ours, and the kids have been a nightmare. They’re all running around, throwing things; some of which hit us, standing up in front of us and making us miss plays because we can’t see, etc. Their counselors aren’t doing anything. Finally, we decide to go to the office and ask if someone can talk to the counselors and control the kids, or at least move our seats. There is an employee at the office, who looks to be a rather disgruntled 20-something.)

Me: “Hi, sorry to bother you but we really could use a hand with the camp-kids. They’re out of control.”

Employee: “Oh. Well, I can’t do anything.”

Me: “You can’t do anything?”

Employee: *sighing and clearly not wanting to do his job* “Nope. Sorry. Ain’t happening.”

Me: “Well, can we at least move seats?”

Employee: “Nope. There’s no other seats I could switch you to.”

(This is a flat-out lie. About half the stadium is empty.)

Me: “Uhhh, that’s not true at all.”

Employee: “Ehhh… not in my opinion.”

Me: “Look, would you move us or have someone talk to the counselors for the camp? We’ve been hit with food and souvenirs they’re throwing around, they’re constantly screaming and giving us a headache, and they’ve even been standing in front of us and making us miss plays in the game. We paid for tickets to the game, not tickets for some kids to annoy us constantly.”

Employee: “No, I won’t do that.”

Me: “Why’s that?”

Employee: “You didn’t say ‘please.’ And I don’t have to do anything for you because it’s not my f****** problem.”

Me: *taken aback* “Excuse me? I don’t appreciate being talked to like that. Get me a manager.”

Employee: *smirk, sarcastic tone* “No, you said it wrong. It’s ‘Please get me a manager’…”

Me: *now angry* “If you don’t like your job, then quit and let someone else who would actually appreciate it have it! Don’t be snarky to me. Get me a manager, now!”

Employee: “Fine!”

(He called for a manager, but the manager was busy. He snidely told us it would be “a while” before the manager would come. We ended up leaving because it took way too long, and we missed most of the game waiting for someone to see us. We ended up writing to the management and getting a full refund, and were later informed that the employee was immediately terminated after our complaint – one of several that day – was reviewed. Thank god for that.)

(I am volunteering for a concession stand for my sister’s marching band, along with that sister and our mom. Mom and I are working at registers and both of them have been malfunctioning on us. As volunteers, we can’t do anything but wait for help when this happens. Luckily, there are very few people in line.)

Customer: “Hi, I’m not sure what I want yet.”

Me: “No problem. Take your time!”

Customer: “What do you have ready?”

Me: “Well, it looks like we’ve got burgers, fries, and chicken tenders ready right now.”

Customer: “How are the chicken tenders?”

Mom: “Uh-oh, my register isn’t scanning again.”

Me: *under my breath* “Well, that’s not good at all.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Did you just tell me the chicken tenders aren’t good?”

Me: “Oh, I am so sorry!” *I point to my mom, who is frowning and pushing buttons* “Her register is acting up. I meant that wasn’t good.”

Customer: “Oh!” *starts laughing*

Me: “The chicken tenders are actually my favorite thing we serve here. I would definitely recommend them!”

(The customer was happy to order after that. Phew!)