(I work at a retail store that sells lots of geeky merchandise for rather high prices. One day, a group of kids come in who are very excited. They spend about 15 minutes looking around the shop and choosing what they want, and then they come up to the counter. I ring them up and it comes to about $60. The oldest one, a girl, looks about 16 and is using a card to pay for everything she and her siblings are purchasing. It all goes well, and we joke about Harry Potter, as she’s wearing a Slytherin scarf, and they leave the store. Ten minutes later, they come back, looking a little apprehensive.)

Oldest Girl: “Umm, hi. We were checking our receipt, and we realised we weren’t charged for something.”

(I almost do a double-take; this is opposite of what I expected. She pulls out a stuffed Pokéball, which I remember being part of her stuff, and the receipt.)

Oldest Girl: “This wasn’t on our receipt.”

(I check the receipt twice, and she’s right; I forgot to ring it up. Unfortunately, it’s store policy not to give discounts or free items except during a sale, so I have to ring it up as well.)

Me: “Thanks, mate. I don’t think too many people would have come back.”

Oldest Girl: *nervous smile* “Oh, it’s nothing.”

(She paid and left with her siblings. I was really impressed, and was glad to see that kids have the honesty and integrity to come back, especially seeing as I’ve seen far worse from people older than her.)

(I have just gotten a new cellphone, and am entering numbers into it.)

Girlfriend: “You should put your number in there, in case you lose it!”

Me: “Good idea!” *I start to add a new number, then stop.* “Wait… how would that help me?”

Girlfriend: “Well, if you left your phone here, I could call you!”

Me: “But if I put the number into my phone… and you have my phone… how will you call me?”

Girlfriend: “By calling your number!”

Me: “But if you’re calling my phone, and you HAVE MY PHONE…”

(We went back and forth a couple more times before she realized that putting my cell number in my cell wouldn’t be as useful as she first thought.)

I worked at a bakery and coffee shop for the summer. It had been around for over a century and was a huge tourist draw. It was always monstrously busy, with a line out the door every day.

One day, in the middle of a rush, a woman in her 60s came up and ordered a “French Vanilla.” I asked her to clarify what she would like made with French Vanilla: a latte, a cappuccino, a macchiato, etc. She looked at me like I had slapped her, and said she didn’t want any of that, just a French Vanilla.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to define “adjective” for her. Instead I told her that we could add vanilla syrup to any of our drinks, but that she needed to tell me which drink she wanted. Her friend started to chime in about my incompetence and mumbled, “Just give the woman her godd*** French Vanilla, already.”

My supervisor came over and, not realizing what was happening, complicated the situation by telling them that we didn’t actually have French Vanilla syrup, just regular vanilla syrup. The woman then screamed, in front of a few dozen people, “I JUST WANT A FRENCH VANILLA!”. I eventually just made her a vanilla latte, which she said was the worst thing she had ever tasted.

A couple months later, I went into a very popular chain coffee shop and saw “French Vanilla” listed on their menu, and it all made sense. What was the drink? Basically, a vanilla latte.

(We are in the building next to a [Major Supermarket Chain] in a small, affluent, seaside town. The supermarket is undergoing renovations which have blocked off the footpath to the other end of town. Our shop has a back door, which means that walking through our shop is now the quickest way to get to the supermarket. My manager has decided to make use of the extra foot-traffic, and has put signs up asking for donations to an oceanic charity.)

Customer: “You should start charging a toll for people who walk through here!”

Me: “Well, we actually have a donation tin for the Dolphin institute, like the big sign says…”

Customer: *expression drops*

(This happens every shift, multiple times. They’ll exit without saying another word to me.)

(A relative of ours held a prominent government position back in the day. We are taking a trip to his home-town in order to learn about family history. There is a statue of him there, with a plaque below containing a biography. [Cousin #1] is seven, and [Cousin #2] is four.)

Cousin #1: “It talks about what he did before he was [Prominent Government Position], but what about afterwards?”

Cousin #2: “He was a statue, silly!”