(Children have been throwing stones at my friend’s house for years. My friend, who is disabled and has intellectual difficulties, is terrified. He calls the police. A cop is taking a witness statement from me, as I witnessed the most recent attack. Law enforcement is an extremely dangerous job here; police officers look under their car for a bomb every morning. I am EXTREMELY respectful and do what I can to lighten their day.)

Cop: “The second attack was at 1430. What happened then?”

Me: “I went outside, saw five kids, and told them to stop throwing stones because [Friend] was very scared.”

Cop: “Did you recognise any of them?”

Me: *addressing him by his rank* “No, constable. I have Asperger Syndrome and I’m face-blind. I have extreme difficulty recognising people.”

Cop: “Can you say what age they are?”

Me: “Same problem, sir. Between seven and fourteen? Hey, there’s [Friend]’s cat, Marty. He could give you better evidence.”

Cop: *grinning* “Perhaps, but I’m not sure a cat makes a competent witness.”

Me: “Did you know police in Wales tried to prosecute a guy for murder on the grounds that he confessed to his cat?”

Cop: “What?”

Me: “They had bugged his flat, and found he talked to his cat a lot. Apparently, he told the cat he killed the guy. Really, I studied law.”

Cop: *laughter* “So, anyway…”

(He talked to the other kids, who quickly turned in the culprit. He will be dealt with!)

Customer: “I’ll have two jaegerbombs, please.”

(I make them up.)

Me: “[Amount], please.”

(She pays, and while I get her change out of her register, I see her lift the glasses up and pour them down the sink in front of her.)

Me: “Did you not want them?”

Customer: “No, I did.”

(I stare between her and the sink, and it slowly dawns on her.)

Customer: “I don’t know why I did that.”

Me: “I don’t know, either.”

(I gave her change and she ordered again. This time she managed to walk away with them. Let’s hope they made it down a different hole!)

Patron #1: “Why do you have two ice cream options?”

Me: “One is made with cow’s milk, while the other is made with coconut milk.”

Patron #1: “What’s the difference?”

Me: “One is vegan-friendly and safe for those with lactose sensitivity.”

Patron #1: “I don’t understand. Which should I get?”

Me: “I assume after the chicken you just had that you are neither vegan nor lactose intolerant, so I would suggest the ice cream made with cow’s milk.”

Patron #1: “No, I think I’m lactose intolerant.”

Me: “But your sauce was prepared with milk. Are you all right?”

Patron #1: “I think so.” *to [Patron #2]* “Am I?”

(I stare at both of them while [Patron #2] face-palms.)

Patron #2: “I think we’ll risk it.”

(I bring them their ice cream. Half an hour later I am asked to bring the bill, and [Patron #2] offers to pay with a card. I take him to the reader.)

Me: “Are you sure he’s all right? I don’t want him to get sick.”

Patron #2: “I don’t think he knows what it means, so I think it’s safe to assume he’ll be fine.”

Me: *worried* “Oh, I thought you knew each other. I shouldn’t have suggested the cow’s milk.”

Patron #2: “No, seriously. Even if he is lactose intolerant, I doubt there’s enough going on in there to make the connection. I think I’ve actually gotten dumber just spending the night with him.”

Me: “Oh, I see. Well, please let us know if there are any problems.”

Patron #2: “Sure, although I doubt I’ll see him after tonight. I don’t know if I’ll ever use Grindr again!”

Related:
Lactose Intolerance Versus Lactose Ignorance

(I have been helping a patron set up a direct debit.)

Me: “And is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Patron: “Yes, can I have a packet of first-class stamps?”

Me: “Oh, I’m afraid we don’t offer stamps, but there is a post office just down the road. Just head right as you step outside.”

(Her head does this awkward jerk and she looks around in confusion.)

Patron: “This isn’t a post office?”

Me: “No, it’s a bank.”

(She looks furious, but before she can say anything else, she collapses on the floor. I’m the closest first-aider so I go into action. The door security guard calls 999. It looks like she’s having an epileptic fit, so I try my best to work with my training. I check her handbag for an identity card, but can’t find one. The guard walks over and tells me EMTs are coming just as our manager answers the phone. He looks so confused, but he addresses us.)

Manager: “What’s her name?”

Me: “What? How is that relevant?”

Manager: “I’ve got one of the paramedics on the phone. She’s asking.”

Me: *confused* “[Patron].”

Manager: “It’s [Patron]…” *to me* “She says to put a cushion under her head and check her handbag.”

Me: “Already done. I couldn’t find anything. I don’t know if she’s epileptic.”

(He tells the paramedic.)

Manager: “Was there anything drug-related in the bag? Pills? She’s asking for a colour.”

(I grab the bag and check. There is a small, clear bag in one of the side pockets. I don’t touch it but I can see small, round tablets.)

Me: “They’re pink.”

Manager: “Pin– Oh, they’re already here.”

(Literally as he says this, the EMTs burst through the door, with the woman my manager was speaking to hanging up.)

EMT: “Sorry, once we knew it was [Patron], we knew we had to hurry.”

(I surrender her to the EMTs. After a few minutes and an IV, she comes around. She is laughing and quite jolly with them as they take her away on a gurney.)

EMT: “Thanks for the help. I’ll just need to ask some questions.”

Me: “Sure, but how did you know it was her?”

EMT: “Sweetie, I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve been called out for her. Now we just take it as standard to call ahead when we’re told it’s a middle-aged woman.”

(I really have to commend them. I can’t imagine having to deal with the same woman time and time again as she slowly destroys herself.)

Customer: *walks up to my register* “You look so yummy!”

Me: *nervous* “Umm, thank you?”

Customer: “Not you! That!”

(She points at a leaflet on the counter about a sale we are offering on baked goods.)

Me: “Oh, thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to call security for a second.”

Customer: “Well, I wasn’t going to say you look yummy, in any case. You’ve got a lazy eye. Only Ed Sheeran looks yummy with a lazy eye!”