(Having moved into a new neighborhood, I decide to grab some pizza at one of the local places, since it seems to have a good pizza and soda combo. I’m not really a fan of most sodas, except for root beer. This is especially true because I’ve just moved from a country where it’s not sold, so I’m craving it pretty badly. This place doesn’t list its drinks individually on the menu, just writing “sodas/juices/etc.”)

Waiter: “All right, what do you want to drink?”

Me: “Do you have root beer?”

Waiter: *looks at me with an annoyed expression* “Uh, no.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Do you have Sprite, instead?”

Waiter: “No.”

Me: “All right… What have you got then?”

Waiter: *still looking pretty annoyed at this line of questioning* “Pepsi, 7-Up, Crush, cream soda, iced tea, and root beer.”

(I stare at her for a second.)

Me: “Root beer, please.”

Waiter: “Fine. Cool. Whatever.”

Customer: “Sir, I see your gluten-free bread, but I only see it in whole grain. I would like whole-wheat; can you find it for me?”

Me: “Sir, gluten-free means that it does not have wheat at all, so thus there is none”

Customer: “NO, YOU ARE WRONG! I KNOW IT IS REAL!”

Me: “Sir, I am going to have to ask you to calm down.”

Customer: “No, I will not calm down! You will get me my gluten-free whole-wheat bread now!”

(By this time, I had three coworkers join me, and we ended up kicking him out with him still screaming that he wanted his bread.)

(A customer calls in needing to pay for his new cell phone and set up auto-refill. He is on his home phone.)

Me: “All you have to do is listen to the terms and conditions, and press 1 to accept them, that’ll—”

Customer: *cuts me off* “Hold on, what phone do I press 1 on? The cell phone, or the phone I am on?”

(It takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking.)

Me: “Oh, the phone you are on, sir.”

(We have this conversation with massage clients wanting to book appointments on a regular basis, especially on the weekends.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. This is [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

Caller: “I’d like to book an appointment today.”

Me: “I have a twelve o’clock appointment for a one-hour massage. Otherwise, we are completely booked for the day. Would that work?”

Caller: “Do you have anything in the evening around four or five? I’m looking for something for two people.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We only have one hour available at twelve o’clock. Our next two appointments together wouldn’t be until next week. Would you be interested in something then?”

Caller: “So, you don’t have anything this evening?”

(What I would like to say: “Ding Ding Ding! Checking with me three times on our availability for this evening has unlocked our super-secret, special appointment-booking bonus level! I will now retrieve two of our best therapists kept in a secret closet saved especially for your last-minute call. Your persistence is commendable! We look forward to seeing you soon!”)

(A man covered in tattoos walks up to the pharmacy window to pick up a prescription for his son.)

Cashier: “What is the person’s name?”

Customer: “[Child].”

Cashier: “What is [Child]’s birthday?”

Customer: “Um, is it [date]?”

Me: “No.”

(While the customer is trying to remember his child’s birthday, the cashier notices that a large tattoo on the customer’s arm is the child’s name… and birthday.)

Cashier: “Is [Child]’s birthday [date]?”

Customer: *wide-eyed* “Yes! How did you know?”

Cashier: *speechless*

(I would have thought that if you spent a couple of hours under a tattoo needle, you’d remember what was imprinted into your skin, but I guess I was wrong.)