(I work for an electronic store in the service department in 2013. A couple walks up to me with a five-year-old iPod Nano.)

Customer: “This got some water on it; is it busted?”

(The iPod has water in the screen sloshing around and no power at all.)

Me: “Was this dropped in a sink or something?”

Customer: “It got some food on it.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m sorry, but it’s done for.”

(The customer turns to look at the guy she is with.)

Customer: “This is all your fault! If it wasn’t your motherf****** food I had to get… You owe me a new iPad!”

(Again, she had a very old Nano, not an iPad. The man looked at me while the customer walked away cursing and gave me a look that said, “Kill me now,” before turning and walking away.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store] support; this is [My Name].”

Customer: “Yes, I have 87 cents in dimes and the computer won’t let me enter it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. You have 87 cents in dimes?”

Customer: “Yeah. How do I enter that into the computer?”

Me: “Did you mean 87 cents in pennies?”

Customer: “No, dimes.”

Me: “Ma’am, you do realize dimes are ten cents each, right?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “And you realize it’s physically impossible to have 87 cents in dimes?”

Customer: “But I do…”

I go to the grocery store to pick up a few items, including two loaves of bread. I take the two loaves to get them sliced and the girl who comes to help me has to ask someone to tell her how to run the machine. Fine, maybe she’s new; maybe she’s never done it before.

She comes back and finally gets it started and it gets stuck a bit. I look past the counter to see what’s going on… and she has the bread in the long way; she’s trying to slice it vertically. I probably could stop her there, but my brain has broken a bit and I cannot form words.

Then, she takes the loaf out when it’s done… and actually turns to me, holding it, and asks if it’s all right. I look at the vertically-sliced loaf and I must be making one h*** of a “WTF” face because she looks at it and looks back at me with a worried, puzzled look on her face.

I manage to restart my brain and tell her, “No, I’d… like it sliced like… normal. Like normal bread.” She still looks confused so I tell her to turn it around and I have to mime the way the loaf should be turned because she is still confused.

She finally gets the two loaves sliced correctly, after having to get me a new loaf to replace the one she… hot-dog sliced, I guess. She doesn’t have an accent, doesn’t seem like she is from anywhere but here, and doesn’t look like she has any reason to not know what a sandwich is… or toast. Has she never seen a sliced loaf of bread before?!

(I make a reservation for seven people at a local buffet restaurant for a family dinner. At this restaurant, children pay less than adults. We come, our table is there, and we eat, drink, and have a good time. Then, a bill for seven adults appears.)

Husband: “Wait, this can’t be right. The little one is only five.”

Server: “I’m sorry. There you go!”

(Now the bill is even higher because the guy just added a child to the total.)

Husband: “No, that’s wrong. We have six adults in the party, not seven.”

Server: “But… you reserved a table for seven!”

Me: “Yes. Six adults and one child make seven.”

(That cleared up the misunderstanding, and we could pay the correct amount. I thought I’d submit it as proof that the confusion whether children count as people apparently goes both ways.)

I have started a new job and am receiving logins for various computer programs. One requires me to provide answers to security questions in case I forget my password.

I pick a question: “What is your favourite colour?” I type, “Blue.”

“Your answer must be at least five characters.” 

So, for a question you’re supposed to give an answer to that you’ll remember, answers including “Red,” “Pink,” or “Blue” are not allowed. Other questions were “Mother’s maiden name” and “Favourite cousin” — let’s hope your favourite isn’t Jane or Max!