(I work at a gas station on the overnight shifts. It’s usually me and one other person. There is rarely, if ever, a manager or supervisor there after midnight. This happens sometime after 2:00 am.)

Customer: *walks in* “Hey, do you guys still cook pizzas for customers?”

(We sell the gas-station brand pizzas in the store and will cook them at a customer’s request.)

Me: “Of course.”

Customer: “Really? You do? You cook pizzas at this location?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “Oh, because last time when I came in, I called in and asked for a pizza to be made so I could pick it up. And when I came in…” *pulls out his phone* “…the pizza was sitting out, not cooked, just in a box.”

Me: “Really?”

(He shows me a picture of a pizza that, from what I can tell, wasn’t cooked at all.)

Me: “Oh, man. I’m so sorry about that. Did you happen to catch the name of the employee who took your order?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “How about the date and time? When did you order the pizza?”

Customer: “I don’t remember.”

Me: “Ah, well, how about your receipt? Do you still have it?”

Customer: “No, I threw it away.”

(I’m a bit annoyed, because without that information there isn’t much the staff can do to figure out WHO took the order or WHEN, much less confirm if he actually asked for the pizza to be cooked.)

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, there’s not much that I can do.”

Customer: “Is there a manager I can speak to?”

(It’s completely dark outside and there is a clock on the wall behind me that says it’s after 2:00 am.)

Me: “No. Our managers don’t come in until six.”

Customer: “D***. Do you have their numbers so I can give one a call?”

Me: “I’m not going to give my managers’ personal numbers out in the middle of the night.”

Customer: “Why not?”

(I stared at him in vague disbelief. After about thirty seconds, he shook his head and left the store without another word. I don’t know what he was expecting to happen by coming in at 2:00 am with this complaint.)

(I’m a manager at a very popular taco fast food place. Like most late night managers and other employees, we get our share of crazy. The phone is ringing.)

Me: “Hi, thanks for calling [Taco Place]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Yes, do you deliver?”

Me: “No.”

Caller: “Do you sell burgers?”

Me: “No. You called [Taco Place].”

Caller: “Can you put hot dogs in a burrito?”

Me: “No.”

Caller: “What if I bring my own? Will you do it then?”

Me: “No, it’s cross contamination. Plus, I can not bring anything from over the counter back to the cooks.”

Caller: “Well… what if I threw s*** at you for not accommodating your customers?”

Me: *face-palm* “I have cameras everywhere. You will be caught and the police will be called.”

Caller: “You don’t know who I am or where I am.”

Me: “We have caller ID if that’s what you’re getting at.”

(Clearly, this caller has lost their marbles.)

Caller: “I will get you fired for not doing your job!”

Me: “My job is to make burritos and tacos. You called [Taco Place]. I am doing my job. You’re wasting your time. Now, if there isn’t anything else I can get you or help you with, have a good night.”

Caller: *hangs up*

(I will never understand customers and their sticks up their butts.)

(The apartment I live in with my roommate only has one parking space per unit out front with extra parking in the back lot. We devised a system early on that the two of us would alternate who parks in the front every week. This week is my turn to park in the back lot, but my roommate comes home to find me in the front spot.)

Roommate: “You’re parked in the front?”

Me: “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I got busy and forgot to move. I have a good reason, though, I swear!”

Roommate: “What’s the reason?”

Me: “I needed to poop really badly.”

Roommate: “Did you make it?”

Me: “YES.”

Roommate: “Oh, well, that’s fine, then.”

(My roommate then went about his evening as if nothing had happened. It’s good to live with understanding people!)

(I’m helping a mom load groceries into her car. She has a baby and a boy about three or four years old. The mom and I are making small talk when the boy speaks up.)

Boy: “Hi!”

Me: “Hello.”

Boy: “Can we return the baby?”

Me: “What?”

Mom: “I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did; I know you did! Can we return him? All he does is fuss.”

Mom: “But I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did!”

Me: “Sorry, all sales are final. No returns or exchanges on babies.”

Boy: “Aww.”

(I hope the mom was able to get through to her kid that babies do not come from grocery stores.)

(My mother-in-law and I go grocery shopping on the fourth Wednesday of the month because that’s when we get our social security checks. After shopping, we go out to lunch. We’re at the restaurant, finishing up lunch, and our waitress has just brought us the check.)

Me: “She’s really nice. We’ve had her before.”

Mother-In-Law: “Yes, she is.”

Me: “I wonder how old she is? Maybe my age?” *pauses* “Nah, I don’t think she’s that old.”

Mother-In-Law: *looks at me with a funny smile on her face*

Me: “Did I really just say that?”

Mother-In-Law: “Yep, you did.”

(At least I was able to laugh at myself over it. For the record, I’m 46. I don’t really consider that old.)