Co-worker 1 (in frustration, imitating the voice of a Dalek): Exteriminate. Exterminate.
Co-worker 2: What? What?
Co-worker 1: (my name) knows. She understands.
Me: Well, personally, I’m more of a “resistance is futile”- kind-a-gal, but yes, I know.
Co-worker 1: I should have known.

(Co-worker 2 not getting the joke and still none the wiser.)

My boyfriend and I are polyamorous. We are cuddling on the couch and talking about a lady he has a crush on. It’s important to note that we both have minor hearing impairments.

Me: Just talk to her!
Boyfriend: Ok, but…
Me: That’s how you got me, right?
Boyfriend: But I’m bad at flirting with people!
Me: *uncontrollable fit of giggles*
Boyfriend: …ok what did you hear?
Me: I know you said flirting, but it sounded like you said “I’m bad at farting with people!”
Boyfriend: *facepalm*

(My mom and I are on our way home from shopping when we hear a song come on the radio. The song is a collab between two popular musicians, and my mom can only remember the name of one of the singers. The song in question has “baby” in the title of it)

Mom: It’s sung by (Popluar English Singer) and baby Jesus!

(I was laughing so hard I had to pull over)

I work at the front desk of a hotel. When guests check in, the law requires that they fill in a form with some personal information. A man and a woman walk in and come up to the front desk to check in.

Man: I’d like to check in. The booking is under the name Patrick.

We usually search for bookings by last name, so I check.

Me: Is that the last name? I’m not finding a reservation with that name.

Man: No, that’s my first name. My last name is “Name”.

I find the booking and hand over the form, explaining that I need him to fill out sections 1-5 (while pointing at the correct places to fill out), and then sign.

He writes “1-5” in the address box, signs it, and hands it over. I point out that’s not what is required, explain again while the woman rolls her eyes at him, and he finally gets it.
I retreat to the back office to scream silently.

(One of our coworkers was French. On the job, he was used to speaking English (work related) or Dutch (leisure) so he would not expect French. He was also often at the receiving end of banter and although good humoured and without malicious intent, some colleagues did not always know when to stop. Banter taken to far can be as hurtful as intended bullying and whenever I noticed (French coworker) struggling, I would intervene, mostly with a quip of my own.)

Coworker 1 (also a native French speaker): (French coworker), how do you spell (French word)?
(yes, he asked this in English)
French coworker (immerged in reading through and summarizing an English contract): What?
Me (noticing French coworker was confused and with his mind still with the contract he was trying to digest): (spells French word)
Coworker 2: Really (French coworker)? You’re native French and you don’t now to spell a French word? You need (my name), who is a native Dutch speaker to do it for you?
(He is joined by others, teasing French coworker)
Me: No worries (French coworker). Just ask them to spell (Dutch word guaranteed to be spelled wrong, despite the crusade of many third grade teachers.) I bet they all get it wrong.
French coworker: Spell (word guaranteed to be spelled wrong)?
(Various coworker spell the word immediately and French coworker looks my way. I sadly shake my head.)
Me: They got it all wrong.
(They all turn to their spell checker, available in Dutch and English but not French, to make their case and it suddenly gets very quiet. Coworker 1 on the other hand started turning to me to spell French words and conjugate French verbs or even a translation).