(I don’t remember quite how old I was when this happened; it was definitely when my age was in single digits. My dad and I are at the big-box toy store looking for a birthday present for a friend, and we are looking at the Barbie dolls. I’m a girl, but our family has never been very prudish so I have a general idea of the differences between boys and girls.)

Me: “Why is it that the Barbies have boobies, but Kens don’t have their boy parts?”

Dad: *thinking quickly* “Because it would be too small. It would break off too easy.”

Me: “Oh, okay… but what about Barbie’s fingers? They’re small too but they don’t break very easy.”

Dad: *picking me up* “Let’s go look at the other toys!”

(I work for a major toy company at the service desk, and received a call from an older woman.)

Caller: “Could you transfer me to the toy department?”

Me: Sure, ma’am, which department did you need?”

Caller: “The toy department.”

(We get several calls of this nature a week so I am used to it.)

Me: “What can I help you with today?”

Caller: “I’m looking for a Minnie Mouse doll that sings when you hold its hands.”

Me: “Absolutely, ma’am. One moment while I look this up for you… It looks like my computer says I have a few in stock, but our inventory has been a bit off after the holidays so would you like me to run back and verify that we do in fact have it in stock?”

Caller: “Yes, please.”

(Knowing the floor person is at lunch I ask the electronics supervisor to watch the service desk while I go look for this item. I find it on the other end of the store then have to come all the way back up with this doll.)

Me: “Thank you very much for holding, I do have that doll. Would you like me to put it on hold for you?”

Caller: “No, I already have one and I really don’t like these dolls so I’m just going to return it.” *hangs up*

(Whenever someone leaves the store, I have to wish them a good day. I usually do this just as they get to the entryway, since it’s closest to my counter and I don’t have to shout that way. I see a gentleman customer leaving the store, so I call out:)

Me: “Have a good day!”

(The customer jumps, looks up all around at the top of the entryway for a minute, and then leaves, leaving me a little annoyed for being ignored. He returns a few minutes later, to talk with a another customer. They both turn and start to leave; they get to the entryway and I call out :)

Me: “Have a good day!”

(The customer jumps (again), but this time looks around him, and sees me.)

Customer: “Wait, that’s YOU saying that?!”

Me: “Oh, uh, yeah. I tell every customer to ‘have a good day’ as they leave.”

Customer: “Oh, I didn’t realize you were saying it; I thought it was a recording!”

Me: “Haha, no, sir, it’s just me. Have a nice day.”

Customer: “You, too!”

(I have no idea where the customer has ever encountered a store where a disembodied voice wished him a good day upon leaving, but it must be nice!)

(A customer walks with a toy that usually prompts me to sell a buyer protection plan, or toy insurance as I like to call it.)

Me: “All right, ma’am, would you like to add a protection plan to this?”

Customer: “No, my child will break it within a week.”

Me: “Well, that’s a perfect reason for the buyer protection plan! It covers all damages.”

Customer: “No, no. She’ll break it, so it won’t matter!”

(I’m with my six-year-old son in a toy store. He’s doing very well in kindergarten so I thought I’d buy him a new toy as a reward. We go down the aisle to the toys for kids his age.)

Me: “Now, [Son], what kind of toy would you like?”

(My son grins and hurries down to a well known brand doll with long blonde hair and a blue summer dress.)

Son: “Can I have this one, Mummy?”

(He’s never asked for a doll before, but he’s borrowed his friend’s dolls in play dates so I am not surprised. It was a little pricier than some of the others but I could afford it, so I nod and smile and we head to the counter. At the counter my son hands the doll to the cashier.)

Son: “Just this today, please.”

(The cashier smiles at my son and begins to scan the doll.)

Cashier: “Who’s this doll for? A lady friend?” *he winks jokingly*

Son: *laughs* “No, it’s for me. I like brushing the lady’s hair.”

(The cashier freezes halfway through scanning the doll.)

Cashier: “Excuse me for a minute.”

(He leaves, taking the doll with him. My son and I are both confused but we wait. A few minutes later a man comes out of the back room with the cashier.)

Manager: “I’m the manager of this store, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”

Me: *blinking in surprise* “Problem? I don’t have a problem.”

Cashier: “She wanted to buy this for her son.” *he holds up the doll*

Manager: *frowns* “Yes?”

Cashier: “Boys don’t play with dolls!”

(My son now looks worried that he might not get the doll and looks really sad.)

Son: “I do. I like brushing their hair and changing their clothes.”

Cashier: *looks affronted* “But—”

Manager: “Why don’t you take inventory and I’ll finish up here?”

Cashier: “But—”

Manager: “Now!”

(The cashier hurries off to the back room.)

Manager: “Sorry about that. I have no idea what got into my cashier. I’ll have a talk with him.”

(We’ve been back to the store several times since then, but I never saw that cashier again.)