(I overhear this from the back of my private school bus. The company runs a public service, also. We pass a broken-down bus from the same company, and they hail us down.)

Customer: “Excuse me. We need to get on this bus. I need to be at my job in five minutes.”

(The nearest bus stop is over 15 minutes away.)

Bus Driver: “Sorry, madam, but this is a school bus to [School]. You can’t be on here for safety regulations.”

Customer: *getting irate and red faced* “Don’t make a fool of me, young man. You are going to let me on this bus; it clearly says, ‘[Bus Company],’ on the side of the bus.”

Bus Driver: *trying to stay polite* “I know, madam, but I cannot let you on to this bus; you need to wait for the next public bus to get on.”

Customer: *barges past driver with smug face* “Well, you have to take me now; otherwise, all these children will be late for school!”

Bus Driver: “Madam, please get off the bus; I need to take the bus elsewhere.”

Customer: “No, and if I’m any later for my job and get fired, I’ll come here and steal yours, just like you steal jobs from the good English people of my country.”

(The bus driver is of foreign descent.)

Bus Driver: *reluctantly* “Fine, you can stay on the bus.”

(The woman stayed on until her stop and left, but not before flipping off the bus driver.)

(It’s my day off, but I go to the shop where I normally work with my dad to pick up a few bits. He’s looking for coffee of a specific brand and can’t find any on the shelves. I know we sell it, so I go to check the “Manager’s Specials” near the front of the store. Sure enough, the coffee is there. I take it back to my dad, who’s waiting in another aisle, when a woman stops me)

Customer: “Ooh, I’ve been looking for that coffee everywhere! Where is it?”

Me: “It’s in the Manager’s Specials at the front of the store.”

Customer: “Where’s that?”

Me: “It’s just the other side of the Pick’n’Mix.”

Customer: “Where?”

Me: “Just as you come through the doors, it’s on your right.”

Customer: “So, I go out of the store, come back in, and turn right? Thank you!

(Before I could say another word, the woman bustled off. I went to my dad and we queued up. Sure enough, the woman went out of the store, came back in, and looked to the right where the Manager’s Specials were. I’ve never known someone to take directions that literally!)

Me: *holding a bag of food*  “[Speciality Sandwich] meal with a [Soda] and two cheeseburgers?”

(The waiting customers stare at me, but no one responds.)

Me: *trying different phrasing* “[Speciality Sandwich], fries, [Soda], two cheeseburgers?”

(More staring; still no response. I think I remember whose order it is, though.)

Me: *to a specific customer* “What are you waiting on?”

Customer: “A [Specialty Sandwich].”

Me: “As a meal?”

Customer: “Yeah…”

Me: “With two cheeseburgers?”

Customer: “Yeah…”

Me: “Then this is yours that I’ve just been calling.”

Customer: *offended* “Don’t you have it written down? You should know what I ordered!”

Me: “I do. That’s what I was calling.”

Customer: *flounces off angrily, railing against me for no discernable reason*

Related:
Listen To Yourself Not Listening!

(I’m on the till with the lottery and scratchcards. I ring up a customer and she takes a while counting out her money for me. I put it through the till.)

Customer: “I’ll have a scratchcard, as well.”

Me: “Of course. Which one would you like?”

Customer: “Erm… number three.”

(I look at the scratchcards and realise number three and four contain the same scratchcards, but number three only has one left. Instead of emptying one container and having to move over a scratchcard, I decide to take one from number four.)

Customer: “No. I said number three.”

Me: “They’re the same kind. There is only one left in three, so I thought—”

Customer: “No! I must only go by even numbers! I need number three!”

(I didn’t bother to point out that three is an odd number!)

I took a first aid course with a friend. We had completed most of the course when the tutor announced she was going to show us some photographs of “uncommon” injuries to see how we would treat them. She stressed we would be unlikely to encounter them but wanted to see how we would apply our new knowledge.

First photo: we suggested treatment, discussed it a bit, all okay.

Second photo: exactly the injury my mum had a couple of years ago.

Third photo: the same injury my friend’s son had last year.

Fourth photo (according to the tutor, a very rare one): something my husband did a few years back.

I think we slightly screwed up the tutor’s lesson plan.