(My family has always had a morbid sense of humor. It’s our thing. We’ve also known from a young age that our mother wants to be cremated. My step-dad isn’t as morbid as we are, and after a shopping trip our mom sits down next to us.)

Mom: “So, you know that I want to be cremated right?”

(My sisters and I nod, having known this for more than ten years.)

Mom: “Well, I don’t want to be carried around. I want you to either dump me somewhere or put me in a wall.”

Me: “So, not what we did to [Dog who was cremated].”

Mom: “Yeah, that wasn’t the best decision. Anyway, I read an article about how you can turn the ash into stone.”

Me: *who had seen an article about something similar* “Then we stick it in a sword!”

Mom: “Yeah… No. You stick it in a necklace. That way, each of you can carry me around.”

Me: “I’m totally down for that.”

Sister #1: “That’d be so weird; like, imagine you had your boyfriend who wanted to meet your parents.”

Me: *holding up fake necklace* “You’ve already met my mom! She approves!”

(My mom and sisters start to crack up.)

Sister #2: “Imagine if it was a mood necklace.”

Me: *grinning devilishly* “Here, hold this.” *hands over fake necklace* “Oh, see that color there. That brown means that my mom doesn’t approve. If the color was pink she would approve.”

(We all have a good laugh.)

Mom: “See, [Step-Dad] thought you guys wouldn’t like it.”

Sister #1: “[Mom], you know we’re morbid. Of course we like it.”

Sister #2: “So, who’s paying to have it done?”

Mom: “Can’t you wait until I’m dead?!”

(I’m pregnant, which means I can’t carry anything heavier than five pounds. My boyfriend and I are checking out at the store. One of the things we’re buying is a six-pound package of pork, so when the cashier bags it, I wait for my boyfriend to pay so he can move it.)

Customer: “Wow, you’re lazy!”

Me: “Huh?”

Customer: “Not moving the bag that’s pretty clearly there. Waiting for your manservant to get it?”

Me: “I can’t pick it up.”

Customer: “Why? Because you’re a lazy fat-a**?”

Boyfriend: “No, she’s pregnant and picking it up could cause us to lose the baby. Now f*** off and mind your own business.”

(The customer glares at us and walks off. My boyfriend apologizes to the cashier.)

Boyfriend: “Sorry about the language.”

Cashier: “Don’t worry about it; I would have said the same thing.”

(Our store door has three locks, one of which is an outer hasp which must be turned and locked with a key. It is right next to both the store’s hours and the “Closed” sign. I have locked the door and am nearly done with closing duties when a customer pulls on the door, then sees me and knocks insistently when it won’t open.)

Me: *opens door a little* “Hi—”

Customer: *overrides me* “Are you closed?”

Me: “Yes, sorry.”

Customer: “Well, you should’ve locked your door.”

(The customer then flipped the still-open hasp and walked off before I could inquire how, precisely, I was supposed to lock myself in from the outside while I was still in the store.)

(I am having trouble finding an item in the hardware store. I don’t see an employee around, so I go up front to ask the cashiers of they can help me find one of their coworkers. Both cashiers are female.)

Me: *what I’m thinking* “I know that cashiers aren’t usually allowed to leave the front, but can you find someone to help me in hardware?”

Me: *what I actually say* “I know you’re just cashiers, but can you find someone to help me in hardware?”

(I am so sorry! I’m sure that you are very capable! Thank you for helping me anyway!)

(I have a job in which I am paired with a colleague and sent to various neighborhoods around town. If our assignments are close enough to the office, we walk. For a while, I am paired with a guy who is nice enough but has a few odd personality quirks. Sometimes, the only way for me to avoid getting mad at him is to play some harmless practical jokes. We are walking back to the office one evening after an assignment that went longer than expected. It is dark, and the street we are on is mostly deserted.)

Colleague: “I’m going to walk with my eyes closed!”

Me: “Why?”

Colleague: “Just for fun.”

(He mostly closes his eyes, but I can tell he is keeping one open just a tiny bit.)

Me: “Hey, watch out for that big rock!”

Colleague: “What? Where?”

(He opens his eyes and looks around, almost falling over while trying to avoid tripping over a rock that isn’t there.)

Colleague: “Hey! There’s no rock! You tricked me!”

Me: “Well, maybe you shouldn’t walk with your eyes closed, then.”

Colleague: “Hmph!”

(He closes his eyes again. I wait a minute or two.)

Me: “Oh, look! A dollar on the sidewalk!”

Colleague: “It’s mine!”

(He darts forward a few steps, searching the ground. When he realizes there is no dollar, he glares at me. I laughs.)

Colleague: “Jerk.”

Me: *laughing*

(And he closes his eyes again!)

Colleague: “I’m not going to let you trick me again. I don’t care what you say; I’m not falling for it.”

(I try warning him about another nonexistent rock, but it doesn’t work. He gets a smug look on his face. I get another idea.)

Me: “Good evening, ma’am. Lovely time for a walk, isn’t it?”

(My colleague opens his eyes and looks around, trying to figure out who I am talking to. There is nobody on the sidewalk except us, but until I burst out laughing, he is convinced that I am talking to someone.)

Colleague: “That’s it. I’m requesting a transfer.”