(We monitor CCTV for high-rise blocks in a large city and we also allow access to the buildings to residents and authorised people, e.g., doctors, police, etc. It’s a quiet morning and we see a postal worker walking towards the door. We’re all ready to open the door to them. However, it’s still quite early in the morning and the sun is quite low, meaning the camera isn’t giving us a great image. As the postal worker gets closer to the camera, this conversation happens.)

Me: “Postman approaching [block].”

Coworker #1: “Get ready.”

Coworker #2: “Postwoman, even.”

Me: “Maybe. Actually, I’m not sure. The sun’s too low.”

Coworker #2: “What about Post Operative then?”

Me: “That’s an entirely different conversation.”

(My boyfriend and I are in bed at night, binge watching a TV series. We live with his father, so walking around the house in a state of undress is a no-go for me. I suddenly remember I bought grapes, which are my boyfriend’s favourite fruit.)

Me: “I bought grapes, by the way. They’re in the fridge.”

Boyfriend: “Really?!” *looks at me, hinting for me to go get them*

Me: “Now? Ugh, fine. I’ll have to find some PJs. I’m in my underwear here!”

Boyfriend: *flips the duvet cover off himself dramatically and points to his own boxer shorts* “What’s THIS?!”

(At this point he looks down and realises the button on his fly has come loose, and everything is on display. We both crack up laughing.)

Boyfriend: *in a tone of bewilderment* “What is this? I just found it!”

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(A guy dressed as a hippy, with a slightly pungent unwashed odour (with warm cannabis notes) greets me. I notice he’s got a swastika tattooed between his eyebrows. I am Jewish so tempted to find another colleague to help him as it makes me feel uncomfortable; however, I decide that I would not want to inflict his odour on anybody else.)

Hippy: “Hey, man, what are these?”

Me: “Those are Sun Bites.”

Hippy: “Are they crisps?”

Me: “Kinda, they’re corn snacks rather than potato chips.”

Hippy: “So… like Pringles?”

Me: “More similar to Skips or Wotsits. Pringles are potato snacks.”

Hippy: “So…. corn isn’t potato?”

Me: “Nope.”

Hippy: “Ah, MAN! So how does it grow?”

(Wanting to get rid of this crazy swastika hippy.)

Me: “Well, potatoes grown in the ground; corn is grown above ground. You have Pringle roots for Pringles. These come from Sun Bites berries, Skips come from a Skips tree, and Wotsits come from a Wotsits bush — which you have to hunt rather than farm.”

Hippy: *grabs a six pack of Sun Bites and wanders off towards the till, exclaiming as he goes* “Ah, MAN. Oh, wow. Oh ,DUDE. FAR OUT. F****** FAR OUT. Oh, my days. OH, MAN!”

(I vaguely wonder if he is an alien who had been transported here to 2015 equipped with ’70s sayings.)

(A customer comes to the desk as my colleague, to my left, informs their customer that they’ve taken a book out before.)

Customer: “I hate it when you lot tell me that.”

Me: “Oh. The computer tells us automatically and some people don’t remember what they’ve read, or don’t recognise the cover if it’s a reprint and don’t like to reread a book.”

Customer: “It’s none of your business what I read. I don’t think you should be able to see that.”

Me: *unsure if he’s joking* “Well, we see the books when you bring them to the desk anyway?”

Customer: *not listening* “Should be freedom of information or something like that…”

Me: “Well, I’ll try to remember not to tell you when you’ve taken a book out before. Did you want your other books renewed?”

Customer: “Yes, please. What ones do I have out?”

Me: *speechless*

(My boyfriend and I are in a shop looking at the menswear. He spots some shirts he likes and decides to try them on. As he puts the first one on, the music playing on the speakers suddenly turns a bit static, as if a CD had been scratched. My boyfriend decides to try on the second shirt, so he takes off the first one – and the music goes back to normal.)

Me: “That’s got to be a funny coincidence.”

Boyfriend: “I’m going to test this theory.”

(He puts the second shirt on and the music continues as normal.)

Me: “Shame.”

(However, with the third shirt, the music once again has problems. We laugh about this and he buys all the shirts he tries on. Two days later we are in another shop. I have spotted a pair of jeans I like and am just heading back to the till when suddenly, all the power goes out throughout the shopping centre.)

Me: *jokingly* “Were you trying on another shirt?”

Boyfriend: “…yes.”

Me: *laughing* “You! Are! Cursed!”