(Our company is renowned for its printing services, which includes everything from old-fashioned film development for individuals to wrapping buildings for major corporations. Our retail department — the “walk-in” part of the store — sees roughly 100 customers a day. And yet, this happens quite frequently. A customer approaches the counter.)

Me: “Hi there! How can I help you?”

Customer: “I’m picking up my order.”

Me: “Okay, great, do you have your reference number?”

Customer: “It’s three 4×6 prints and a roll of film.”

Me: “Okay, great! Do you have your reference number?”

Customer: “They’re pictures of two men, fishing.”

Me: “Okay, let’s start with your name.”

Customer: “I brought them in two days ago. Three 4×6 photos. Glossy?”

Me: “Sir… we have over 400 orders back there in filing. They’re not sorted by size or image; they’re sorted by number. So… let’s start with your name and I will look up your number, please?”

(I work at an adult education program. I have to help answer phones for all the different classes. This customer is interested in the community golf class.)

Customer: “I’d like to take the golf class, but I travel for work and I need to know when the last class will be.”

Me: *despite the fact that the start date, length of class, and school holidays are in the brochure* “Let me check for you… The last class will be [date], unless we have to cancel because of weather.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Thunderstorms aren’t good with golf.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Lightning.”

Customer: “Really? Well, when will that be?”

Me: “The first class, they’ll give you the phone number to the clubhouse, and you can check with them if the weather looks bad. If we have to cancel, we’ll add a class at the end.”

Customer: “But when will that be?”

Me: “If the weather looks bad.”

Customer: “Yes, but when will that be?”

Me: *realizing he wants me to predict the weather two months from now* “I don’t know, sir, but you’re welcome to check with us any time.”

(I wonder to this day what job he had, and why he was allowed to drive.)

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(I work for a coffee shop set in the middle of an open-university campus. A woman walks in with her friend.)

Woman #1: “Is there any dairy in your [specialty drink]?”

Me: “Yes, there is, but we do have dairy substitutes such as soy, coconut, and almond milk.”

Woman #2: “Oh, see? They do have dairy substitutes.”

Woman #1: “Okay, that’s good. I’m allergic to soy, though, so I can’t have dairy or soy milk.”

Me: “Okay, no problem. Would you like almond milk or coconut milk?”

Woman #2: “Is that a dairy substitute?”

Me: *getting a bit agitated* “Yes. Almond milk and coconut milk do not contain any dairy.”

Woman #1: “Coconut milk sounds good.”

Me: “Okay, great. What size would you like your [specialty drink]?”

Woman #1: “Wait… Where does coconut milk come from?”

Woman #2: “Is it dairy-free?”

Me: *internally screaming* “It is milk… that comes from a coconut.”

Woman #2: “Oh…”

Woman #1: “Is it dairy-free?”

Me: *literally cannot handle the stupidity much longer* “Your total is $4.72.”

(I am a volunteer guide at Anne Frank’s Museum for Human Rights. The first room is a timeline with pictures and important events of both Anne Frank’s life and World War II. My job is to guide the visitors through the timeline, expanding on the historical context and Anne’s personal experience. We are almost at the end when a visitor interrupts my explanation.)

Visitor: “STOP! Stop, stop. Don’t go on. I haven’t finished the book yet; you were about to tell me how it ends!”

Me: *speechless*

Visitor: *noticing the pictures of the family, along with the descriptions of how each of them died* “OH, MY GOD, this place is full of spoilers!”

(I never saw him again. I want to believe he is already reading newspapers from the ‘60s, still complaining about spoilers on the course of history. SPOILER ALERT: Hitler lost the war.)

(I am browsing in a charity shop and pick up a secondhand top from a national store well-known for being very cheap. I recently shopped at that store and bought several of these tops brand new. I realise the charity shop has made a mistake in pricing. I take the top to the cashier.)

Me: “I don’t want this, but I thought I should let you know it’s on sale at [Store] for £1.75 brand new.”

Cashier: *confused* “Okay?”

Me: “You’ve got it priced at £2.95.”

Cashier: “Yes.”

Me: “It’s cheaper to buy it new at [Store].”

Cashier: *sounding annoyed and glaring at me* “Well, it is for charity, you know!”

(Yeah, good luck with that…)