(I work at a yogurt shop one summer in college. Because so many people are weight-conscious, I quickly became aware of the caloric content of everything we sell.)

Customer: “Hi, do you have anything low calorie?”

Me: “Yes, our vanilla frozen yogurt is non-fat, and has [X] calories in a small, and [Y] in a large. The chocolate is low-fat, and has [A] calories in a small, and [B] in a large.”

Customer: “Great, I’ll take the non-fat vanilla, small.”

Me: “Would you like it in a cup or a cone?”

Customer: “A cup. I don’t want the calories from the cone!”

Me: “Okay.” *takes cup, gets ready to serve yogurt*

Customer: “That’s the NON-fat vanilla, right?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. The vanilla is non-fat.” *dishes out yogurt*

Me: “Would you like any toppings on that?”

Customer: “Do you have any chocolate sauce?”

Me: “Yes, we have regular chocolate sauce and non-fat chocolate sauce.”

Customer: “How many calories in the non-fat sauce?”

Me: “[N] calories.”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll have that.”

Me: *adds sauce*

Customer: “Oh, and put some of that crumbled Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup on it!”

Me: “…”

(I work at a small self-serve frozen yogurt store. One night, a man and his young daughter come in, the daughter clearly excited about getting frozen yogurt. I chat with them, help them out, and everything goes fine until it’s time to pay. He reaches into his wallet to pay, and pulls out a $100 bill. Because $100 bills are so easily faked and because we have so little in our change drawers, our store policy won’t let me accept it.)

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t accept a $100 bill, sir; it’s against our store policy. Do you have another method of payment, like a credit card?”

Customer: “No, this is all I have. Are you sure that you can’t take it?”

(He shows me the entire wallet, which, true to his word, only has $100 bills. By this point, from his accent and the contents of his wallet, it’s clear to me that he and his daughter are foreign tourists out for a late night treat, and as she has been so excited, I don’t have the heart to make her give the yogurt back.)

Me: “In that case, I’ll just let you have the yogurt for free.”

Customer: “Oh! Thank you — but I’ll come back to pay you. I’ll go to the bank and get smaller bills.”

Me: “You don’t have to do that; it’s all right. Have a good night!”

Customer: “No, no, no. I will come back!”

(The two of them start to head out with their yogurt.)

Customer’s Daughter: “Where are we going, Daddy?”

Customer: “To the bank, so that I can pay the lady. Go ahead and eat your yogurt.”

(They leave, and I leave the check open and go back to tending to the store. About fifteen minutes later, I notice a truck pull up in front of the store, and to my surprise, it’s that customer and his daughter!)

Me: “Hello, I see that you are back!”

Customer: “Yes, I went to the bank to get money you can take. Here you are!”

Me: “Oh, thank you!”

(He hands me a $20 to pay. Since I’d left the check open, I was able to give him change and hand it to him.)

Customer: “They closed the exit to here so I had to drive all the way around to the other exit — but I was going to get you your money!”

Me: “Thank you very much for coming back, sir. A lot of people wouldn’t have bothered.”

Customer: “No, thank you for letting us take the yogurt. Have a good night!”

(That girl is lucky to have such a great father!)

(The frozen yogurt shop I work at is in a plaza, next door to a chicken-themed restaurant. I am working one afternoon when a man rushes in and straight up to the counter.)

Me: “Hi, how are you?”

Customer: *hurriedly* “Hi, I placed an order with you. I hope it’s ready—”

(I panic a little, as I was not informed of any order, nor did I see one in the freezer, and he sounds a bit desperate. I am about to reply when the man suddenly starts looking all around.)

Customer: “Oh, this isn’t the chicken place.”

Me: *relieved* “No… it isn’t.”

Customer: “Okay, sorry.”

(He leaves to go next door, and I am left wondering how he confused a bright, vibrant frozen yogurt shop with an under-lit, drab chicken place. I guess he was really in a hurry! I hope his order was ready!)

(I work at a self-serve frozen yogurt place and every now or so an annoying customer comes in. From the beginning I could tell this lady was going to be a pain but I tried to be as friendly as possible even when she handed me her spit coated sample cups because she was too lazy to throw them away.)

Me: “All right! Have a great evening.”

Customer: “They don’t train you to say ‘thank you’ here?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You should be thanking me for my purchase or is that too difficult for you to manage? I demand you thank me!”

Me: “I can manage it but you underestimate how apathetic I am toward people who need hollow gratitude for buying something they already wanted.”

(She threatened to never come to our store again. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the other location she swore to solely patronize was owned by the same person.)

(Three women and several children have come into the store as a group. They are all sitting at tables, and the children are chatting, playing games, etc. Every so often some of the children will get up and look around the store. I spot one of the girls staring at something just past me. Since there are two TVs behind me I think nothing of it. Later, the same girl seems to be staring at something just past me again.)

Girl: *pointing at my hairnet* “Is that to keep the yogurt out of your hair?”

Me: “Uh, no… It’s to keep my hair out of the food.”

Girl: “Oh.”