Me: *phone rings* “[Bowling Alley], how may I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I was in there last night, and I think I left my bowling ball there. Can you see if it’s around?”

Me: “Sure, was it a specific brand?”

Customer: “Oh… I’m not sure… I don’t think it had a brand on it.”

Me: *mentally sighing* “Okay, what color was it?”

Customer: “Um, I think it is blue. Er, wait… Maybe green?”

Me: *mentally facepalming* “Well, was there anything else on it, like your name engraved, or some other feature?”

Customer: *thinks a bit* “Um… OH! It has three holes in it!”

(I am a prosecutor in a small-town traffic court, and the judge is seeing walk-in defendants about their traffic tickets. A sweet-looking elderly lady has a ticket for an expired registration on her car, a very easy matter to deal with. As she approaches the bench, for some reason the judge’s sense of humor kicks in and he greets her with the following:)

Judge: “Hello, Mrs. [Lady]. It says here you’ve been charged with theft and attempted murder. How do you plead?”

(The poor lady goes wide-eyed, clutches her chest, and staggers backwards. As the bailiff rushes up to keep her from falling, the judge quickly back-pedals:)

Judge: “I’m sorry! It was a joke! I’m so sorry! Case dismissed!”

(I never witnessed him try to “joke” like that again.)

(I am grocery shopping at my usual place. I bring reusable bags. A couple of them are from the store I am at, and a couple are from a different chain. I am checking out with a cashier I have never seen before. I have put the reusable bags first on the conveyor belt, so she picks them up and says, “You have four bags.” I confirm it, but wonder internally why it matters. Then, as she scans the last of the groceries, the following occurs:)

Cashier: “And you had four reusable bags, so that’s 99 cents each.”

(She picks up the bag they use to scan the bag price into the computer and tries to scan it four times.)

Me: “Wait. Why are you doing this? These bags are old. I brought them with me; I am not buying them. And two of them are not even from [Store].”

Cashier: “We charge 99 cents for reusable bags.”

Me: “Yes, when a customer buys them, but I am not buying them. I already paid for them when I bought them a long time ago. And two of them are not yours.”

Cashier: “I can’t let you have them for free. Reusable bags cost 99 cents.”

Me: “Can I speak to your lead cashier, please?”

Cashier: *rolls her eyes, but calls the lead cashier* “Hey, [Lead Cashier], this lady doesn’t want to pay for the bags.”

Me: “No, I already paid for them when I bought them a while ago. They are mine. I brought them with me.”

Lead Cashier: “[Cashier], I already explained it to you that we do not charge for reusable bags every time the customer uses them. They buy them, and then get to use them as much as they want to. They are their bags now. And as far as I can see, these bags are from [Another Store], so we couldn’t charge for them, anyway. We don’t sell them.” *to me* “Sorry for the confusion. I will clear that for you.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(The lead cashier takes over and finishes the transaction, while the new cashier — at least I assume she is new — stands by and mumbles.)

Cashier: “That makes no sense. The law says we have to charge at least 10 cents per bag. It’s for the environment.”

(I ignored her, and so did the lead cashier at that point, but I never saw that cashier in the store again. I don’t know if she got fired or moved to somewhere where she doesn’t have to deal with customers.)

(I work at a children’s swim school as the front desk receptionist. I am on the phone with a customer who has called and wants to sign up his son. After setting up a schedule:)

Me: “Would you like to take a tour before you sign up?”

Caller: “No, I’ve been there before. My girlfriend’s son used to go there.”

Me: “Oh, okay and is [Child] your girlfriend’s son, too?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, what’s the older son’s name? Because he’s been here before and they’re siblings, you don’t have to pay the registration fee.”

Caller: “Oh, no, the older one is not my son.”

Me: “Yes, I understand that, but you said that your girlfriend is the mother to both of the boys, so I can apply the discount—”

Caller: *interrupts me* “I told you that [Older Child] is not my son, d*** it!”

Me: “Okay, sir, I’ll add the $25 back to your total.”

(He paid the fees and I’ve yet to hear from him since.)

(At the place where I work, there is one student who aspires to be a problem child as often as he can most days. I am frequently saying things like, “[STUDENT], please use your indoor voice,” or, “[STUDENT], please keep your hands to yourself,” but this one takes the cake.)

Me: “[STUDENT], please stop sexually harassing Barbie. I never thought I’d have to say that, but I did.”