(I am about nineteen, working in a retail shop that carries some clothing items and sports equipment. In the sports equipment area, we also have a bench where we work on customers’ broken equipment. To my left, overlooking the clothing area, is the dressing room, and to my right is a back hallway. A customer of about sixty or older walks in and begins looking at shorts.)

Customer: *tries two dressing room doors, locked and in use by other customers, and turns to me* “Hey, these doors are locked. Where can I try these shorts on?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. There must be a few customers still trying things on. It should be just a few minutes before they’re done, and then I will open one up for you.”

Customer: *grumbles and goes back to looking at shorts*

(Five minutes later:)

Customer: “Hey, these dressing rooms are still locked. I’m about ready to just go in the back hallway over there and just try my shorts on in there, instead.”

(He chuckled and walked away again. I just laughed awkwardly, thinking how crazy that idea was, and then went back to working on a customer’s equipment. Five minutes later, the customer walked out of the back hallway wearing the shorts he’d been carrying, with the pants he’d been wearing draped over his arm. I was stunned and speechless.)

(I’m a customer at a restaurant and bar that holds trivia every Sunday night. In the middle of the game, there is a question about the solar system. The correct answer is, “Jupiter.” A family with two young kids enters the restaurant as this question is displayed on the TVs but the teams still have time to put in their answers.)

Kid: *yelling loudly enough to be heard over the music* “JUPITER! IT’S JUPITER! THE ANSWER IS JUPITER!”

DJ: “And the correct answer is… Jupiter! And everyone got that right. So, just a reminder: there’s no blurting out answers if you’re not playing the game.”

Dad: “Oh! Angry DJ, huh? We’ve got an angry DJ!” *looks around the restaurant for backup but no one says anything* “Hey, buddy, the customer is always right!”

Me: “Dude, you’re not a trivia customer.”

(The family angrily left the restaurant. They later called the manager and demanded that the DJ apologize. She told them that wasn’t going to happen.)

(I enjoy feeding friends, and I often bring snacks into work. Some snacks are more memorable than others.)

Coworker: “When are you going to bring fudge in again?”

Me: “Which type?”

Coworker: “The peanut butter, tiger-swirled one.”

Me: *grinning* “I’ve been thinking about it.”

Coworker: “I’ve been dreaming about it.”

(It’s probably time to bring it in again. Soon.)

This story is part of our International Day Of Happiness roundup!

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(I am a fast-food worker with a bit of a reputation of being good with words, especially coming up with parody lyrics. I work at a family-owned business, not a chain. My boss asks me to make a parody of a Christmas song as a holiday advertising stunt. I pick “Twelve days of Christmas.” Here are those lyrics:)

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, I ordered at [Restaurant]:
Twelve eggnog milkshakes,
Eleven cappuccinos,
Ten bacon doubles,
Nine strips with tartar,
Eight turtle sundaes,
Seven giant popcorns,
Six quarts of chocolate,
Five onion rings!
Four Snickers storms,
Three large fries,
Two chili dogs,
And an order of nachos with cheese!”

(However, inspired by this, I also come up with a version from an employee’s perspective.)

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, the drive-thru gave to me:
Twelve giant trailers,
Eleven window tappers,
Ten noisy engines,
Nine quiet talkers,
Eight shouting children,
Seven cups of pennies,
Six separate orders,
Five cars in line!
Four cards declined,
Three add-ons,
Two cars out back,
And a customer b****ing at me!”

I’m a guy who works on an office team with five women. We decided to have a Secret Santa gift exchange over the holidays, giving one small gift each week leading up to a larger gift just before Christmas. During one of our meetings, we’re talking about what gifts we’ve received and I say, “My Secret Santa’s gotten me some nice things. I wonder what she’ll do for the large gift.”

One of my other coworkers asks, “How do you know your Secret Santa is a she?”

My boss responds, “Well, if it’s not, his Secret Santa has a little bit bigger secret than just being his Santa.” My coworker struggles to understand for a minute, but we all get a little laugh that day.