(I am originally from Connecticut, but I’m attending college in New York State. Since I have no plans to live there after graduation and return home every summer, I have no New York documentation; my drivers’ license and plates are all Connecticut. I’m on a date with a guy who is a NY native, and we stop at a gas station to fill up his bike and buy smokes.)

Me: “A pack of [Brand], please.”

Cashier: “I’ll need to see your ID.”

(Obviously, this is expected, and I am well over the legal age to purchase cigarettes, so I happily hand it over)

Cashier: *handing it back* “No, I need your New York ID.”

Me: “What? I’m not from New York ,though. This is the only ID I have.”

Cashier: “We can’t take out-of-state IDs. It’s the law.”

Me: *by now completely baffled* “Um… I’m pretty sure it’s not. I’ve bought cigarettes in plenty of New York locations before; my ID being out of state doesn’t stop it being valid. Are you seriously telling me that someone, say, on a road-trip through the area, couldn’t buy cigarettes until they returned home?”

Cashier: *snottily* “I’m not getting arrested over this, ma’am. If you can’t show me a valid license, then I can’t sell you cigarettes.”

(By now I’m very annoyed, but my date cuts in.)

Date: “It’s okay, babe. Just go back out to the bike.”

(I resign myself to nicotine cravings and do as he says. When he joins me a minute later, he hands me the very pack I’ve just been attempting to purchase, while pocketing his own, different brand.)

Me: “Seriously?!”

Date: “Yeah. Idiot didn’t even blink when I asked for your brand.”

(So, to sum it up: accepting a perfectly valid license is illegal, but letting someone else buy cigarettes for someone you believe is legally unable to purchase them is okay!)

(I love my husband to pieces, but when he’s sleep-deprived, the absolute dumbest crap comes out of his mouth. Example: After working multiple night shifts as a police officer on an incredibly busy holiday weekend, he insists on coming with me to my first sonogram appointment instead of getting some much-needed rack time.)

Technician: “Okay, there’s your baby’s head! And… oh, my.”

Me: “What? What’s wrong?”

Technician: “Oh, there’s another one in there!”

Husband: *horrified* “Our baby has two heads?!”

Me: *forcing down the laughter* “No, honey, we’re having twins. I think I’m driving us home.”

Husband: *face firmly in palm* “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

(I work in retail and get this often enough that I am tired of hearing it. One afternoon a coworker and I are folding clothes on a table that guests have messed up while shopping.)

Guest: “Miss, do you work here?”

Me: *looks down at my obvious work uniform* “No, sir, my friend and I here just like folding clothes at various retail stores for kicks.”

Guest: “Oh, okay.” *walks off*

(Between my laughter and my coworker’s, I went to the man and apologized, explaining I did work here, and helped him. He laughed, too, so all was good, but he was the first guest that had taken me seriously.)

(I work in the take-away area of a popular Australian steakhouse. My job is to bring food to customers waiting in their cars, so they can drive off and take it home to eat. This exchange happens at 10:45 on a Saturday night. I have just gotten this woman’s change while she is waiting for the rest of her food to come out.)

Me: “Can I get you anything else while you wait?”

Woman: “Yeah, can I order [alcoholic beverage] from the bar?”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “Can I order something from the bar and drink it while I wait?”

Me: “No, ma’am, you can’t.”

Woman: “Well, why not?”

Me: “I’m not allowed to give you alcohol. You’re sitting in your car in the to-go area. It’s illegal to drink and drive.”

(This takes place via email.)

Me: “Dear Sis, I need to enter the checks for our business in the spreadsheet. When you get the mail, please take a picture of the checks and email it to me.”

Sister: “Here you go!”

Me: “Um, Sis, a photograph of the sealed envelopes isn’t any use to me. I need things like the check number, who wrote it, and the amount. Please open the envelopes and take pictures of the checks themselves, then send them to me.”

Sister: “Oh! I didn’t know that’s what you wanted.”