(I work reception at a veterinary clinic for small animals. A non-client walks in this morning looking to make a purchase.)

Man: “Do you carry this product?”

Me: “What product are you looking for?”

Man: *holds out cell phone* “This.”

(The cell phone display shows Google translate. The window on the right is in a non-English language, and the left window is set to English, showing two words: “dog” and “donchoengso.”)

Me: “You’re looking for something for your dog. Unfortunately, ‘donchoengso’ isn’t an English word, so I’m not sure what you’re looking for.”

Man: *points to cell phone screen* “I need this. For the dog.”

Me: “Unfortunately, because ‘donchoengso’ isn’t English, I really don’t know what you’re needing.”

Man: *presses button for Google translate to read words*

Google Translate: “Dog. Donchoengso.”

Me: “That’s still not English.”

(I am working at the drive-thru.)

Customer: “Yes, I want a hamburger with pickles.”

(Our hamburgers already come with pickles; I’ve been working long enough to interpret this as asking for extra pickles.)

Me: “Okay, one hamburger with extra pickles.”

Customer: “No, I want a hamburger with pickles.”

Me: “Oh, so, you mean you want only pickles?”

Customer: “No, I want a hamburger with pickles.”

Me: *pause* “A hamburger with extra pickles.”

(This goes back and forth for a while, until finally the customer yells at me through the headset.)

Customer: “I JUST WANT A HAMBURGER WITH PICKLES. WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!”

Me: *losing it* “BECAUSE THE HAMBURGER ALREADY COMES WITH PICKLES, SO YOU SAYING, ‘WITH PICKLES,’ MEANS NOTHING TO ME!”

(I can hear his realization and his passenger’s reaction.)

Customer: “Oh. Then just a regular hamburger.”

(The rest of the transaction went okay.)

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(Having grown up outside of “Cajun Country,” I often have trouble understanding customers that come through the store. This lady’s accent is particularly thick, and I have no one who grew up locally to ask for help.)

Customer: “I’m lookin’ for taco potter.”

Me: *getting a lot of strange mental pictures* “Taco potter?”

Customer: “Yeah. Y’know, taco potter.” *she mimes shaking something*

Me: “Do you mean… taco powder?”

Customer: “That’s what I said! Taco potter!”

(I take her to the seasoning section and show her packets of taco seasoning.)

Customer: *getting agitated* “No! Taco potter! Taco potter!” *emphatically mimes shaking something out of a jar*

Me: “I… um… I’m not sure what—”

Customer: “Taco potter! Like you put on a baby’s butt!”

Me: “Oh, talcum powder!”

Customer: “Yes! Good lord! Taco potter!”

(Why couldn’t she just say, “like you put on a baby’s butt,” in the first place?)

(My little sister moves in with me so she can attend a physician’s assistant program. During a warm day in October, we are chatting in the kitchen.)

Sister: “I think I should have the upper extremities covered today.”

Me: “You should be fine with that tank top. It’s going up to 75 degrees.”

Sister: “I was talking about studying for my exam.”

Me: “I was talking about the weather and how you are dressed.”

(Because it’s Sexual Assault Awareness Month, my college has been having a number of related events. I’m sitting in the Veterans’ Lounge when one of the SAAM coordinators walks in, intending to inform us about an interestingly-named presentation/Q&A panel.)

Coordinator: “Hey, we’re having Sex In The Dark right now if you want to come. There’s snacks! Bye.”

(As soon as she left, everybody burst into laughter at how poorly-phrased her invitation was, but hey, at least it was memorable.)