(I’m a cashier. A customer sneezes several times as he approaches one of the self-checkout stations.)

Me: “Ah, gesundheit, sir!”

Customer: “You know you shouldn’t be saying that to people, miss.”

(A little perplexed, I stop making rounds around the self-checkout stations and turn to look at him.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir? What should I not be saying?”

Customer: “You shouldn’t say, ‘God bless you,’ to people.”

Me: “Eh, I didn’t say, ‘God bless you,’ though, sir; I said, ‘Gesundheit.’”

Customer: “I heard what you said; ‘gesundheit’ means ‘God bless you.’” *beginning to get irked*

(It takes me a moment to process what the man’s just said to me, since I know for a fact that “Gesundheit” means something like, “Good health to you.” But before I have a chance to respond to the man, he starts off on a tirade about how he can’t stand the fact that people have to shove matters like religion and God onto him and others all the time and can’t keep their opinions to themselves and whatnot. Meanwhile, I’m standing there, stock-still and quiet, as I’m holding my handheld monitor to my chest, definitely feeling a bit more than dumbfounded at what I’m hearing, all because I said a simple phrase! At some point I finally find a break in the man’s fervent outburst and manage to get a word in.)

Me: “Um, sir? ‘Gesundheit’ doesn’t mean ‘God bless you.’ It’s German for ‘Good health to you.’”

Customer: *stares at me again* “You sure about that?”

Me: “Completely so, sir.”

Customer: “It has nothing to do with God.”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, you know, you still shouldn’t say, ‘God bless you,’ to someone.”

Me: *actually feels my eyelid twitch a bit at this* “Yes, sir, I know that. Anyway, if you should at all require assistance while checking out, sir, let me know, okay? I’d be more than happy to help you.”

(I had to walk away from the man ASAP as I had a feeling that he would continue to incessantly drone on about why you shouldn’t say, “God bless you,” to someone when they sneeze. Honestly, had I known the man was going to get so cantankerous about me saying something with polite intention when he sneezed I’d have just stayed quiet! I’m not even religious, anyway!)

(My sister and I are in the car driving together, and I am telling her about a fanfiction I am reading where the Avengers and Spider-Man are all on Twitter and other social media. I tell her how hilarious it is, and that literally all of them are trans or gay. Then I say that Hawkeye is asexual and aromantic, making him an Ace Arrow.)

Sister: *confused* “I thought he had a wife and kids, though? Like, neither of those is probable?”

Me: “Shhh. This is their universe. This is fanfiction; the author can do whatever they want. The wife and kids don’t exist.”

Sister: “So, are you telling me that fanfiction writers are Thanos? Just, ‘I don’t like you.’” *snaps fingers*

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(Decades before the TV show about blowing things up with science, there was my high school chemistry teacher. The very first day of class, I sit down in my chair and lean back lazily. Then I freeze, with my eyes wide.)

Friend: “[My Name]? Are you okay?”

Me: “The light fixture is melted.”

Friend: “What?!”

(He looks up where I’m looking, and right above the table where the teacher would be making demonstrations, the hanging light fixture is indeed partially melted, and twisted. The ceiling is pock-marked with black marks, and I could swear there are things… embedded… in the ceiling.)

Friend: “Uh…”

(The facts spread quickly as other students file in, see other kids muttering uneasily, and follow the pointed fingers. The teacher comes in:)

Teacher: “All right, students, I know this is not a class you want to take first thing in the morning, but I would like to inform you now that there will be no dozing off in this class.”

(The entire class wordlessly points to the ceiling.)

Teacher: *with an evil smirk* “Oh, darn. You already figured out the reason why.“

(To be fair, nobody did doze off in class. Our teacher was notorious for demonstrating why you followed the rules exactly, by demonstrating how NOT to do things. Just about everything our teacher did either exploded, caught on fire, or did something likewise terrifying. Every day a demonstration happened, the first three rows of students scooted their desks back as far as they could, cramming toward the back of the room. I learned a lot about chemistry, but I wonder, years later, if my teacher ever happened to teach the hosts of that show. It would explain a lot.)

(I work for a 24-hour emergency vet. It’s about one am; I usually get strange calls at this time of night.)

Client: “Hi. I was putting some flea medication on my dog and I think I’m having a reaction to it.”

Me: *thinking I misheard her* “Oh, he’s having a reaction to it?”

Client: “No, I am! My hands are breaking out, and I think my throat is getting tight.”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry; you’ve called an animal emergency hospital!”

Client: “I know. You guys know what I need to take to fix it right?”

Me: “No, ma’am, you need to call 911 or go to your local emergency room; we only treat pets here.”

Client: “Well, that’s okay. If you guys treat pets, you know what I can take, right? I really wasn’t planning on going anywhere tonight; just tell me what medication you give to pets and I’ll just take a larger dose of it.”

Me: “Ma’am… I’m sorry, but we can’t give medication advice over the phone for pets, and we definitely can’t for people! You need to call 911 or go to the emergency room!”

Client: “You’re just being no help. Do you have a number I can call a different animal hospital? I don’t have Internet, so I can’t look up anything.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t give you another number for an animal hospital that’s open right now, but I would gladly give you directions to the emergency room closest to you! You definitely need to go to a hospital for people if you’re having a reaction, not animal hospitals.”

Client: “Fine, y’all are just no help! You know, you really should give better advice to people when they call; you are a hospital, you know! I guess I’ll just have to go to the hospital down the road and see if they can help me. I’m never calling you again!” *click*

(I was so mind-blown I had to sit and collect myself for a few minutes. She sounded like a normal, middle-aged woman, so I hope it was a prank call, but unfortunately I don’t think it was.)

(This is when the big, all-in-one, self-serve, “freestyle” soda dispensers are still a relatively new concept. I work at the concession stand in a movie theater where this exact interaction takes place multiple times a day.)

Me: “Here’s your cup for your drink.”

Customer #1: “We get the drinks ourselves?”

Me: *gestures across the lobby* “Yes, it’s self-serve at the freestyles, right over there.”

Customer #1: *looking around, confused* “What’s a ‘freestyle’?”

Me: *smiling politely* “The big red machines over in the corner.”

Customer #1: *smiles gratefully and laughs a little* “Okay, thanks!”

(I never get irritated at repeatedly answering that same question with that same answer, because I had never heard of a “freestyle” until I started working here, so I have sympathy for the customers’ confusion. But for everyone’s benefit, I decide to start cutting to the chase, while also hopefully still getting a smile or chuckle out of our customers. This happens with the very first customer I try my new tactic on.)

Me: “Here’s your cup for your drink.”

Customer #2: “We get the drinks ourselves?”

Me: *gestures to freestyles while smiling brightly* “Yep! At the big red machines over there.”

(The customer suddenly scowls at me and emits an irritated laugh.)

Customer #2: “So, you think I’m just some stupid b**** you have to dumb it down for? GOD!”

(The customer stormed off, muttering about how rude I was and how stupid I must have thought she was. I went back to the old spiel after that.)