(I’m at my local branch of a popular salon chain, they are known for their waxing specials and have a lot of ads to that effect, to have my eyebrows waxed. I’ve been seeing the same esthetician for a while now, so she and I often chat and catch up during my appointments.)

Me: I bet you’ve been extra busy the last couple of weeks with summer starting!

Her: Yes! It’s been a little crazy, but I’d rather things be busy than slow. Although, summer does bring out some odd people.

Me: What’s the strangest thing you’ve had to deal with since the last time I saw you?

Her: Oh, hands down it’s the drunk guys coming over from [bar & grill] next door. At least once a week they come stumbling in and ask if I can wax one of their equally drunk friend’s balls or a**.

Me: Wow…They’ve all seen ’40-year-old Virgin’ too many times, haven’t they?

Her: You have no idea. I’ve spoken to our Manager about it, but she says there’s not much we can do besides refuse them service, unless they become belligerent or destroy property or something.

Me: Next time, you should tell them you’d be happy to, then go into gory detail about how hair follicles are ripped out during waxing.

Her: Ha! I’ve thought about doing something like that.

(I’ve got another appointment with her soon, I’m interested to know if she’s found a way to deal with the ’40-year-old Virgin’ groupies.)

When I was 17, I had outpatient oral surgery to remove my impacted lower wisdom teeth. Once I was out of surgery and reasonably coherent, but still under the influence of the sodium pentathol used as an anesthetic, a nurse was assigned to push me on the gurney back to the room where my clothes were hung up. I’m reasonably tall, so there isn’t much spare room at either end of the gurney. She starts pushing the gurney from the end where my feet are. She’s got her forearms on the gurney frame to either side of me, and as a result is leaning forward. I realize that the balls of my feet are touching the upper part of her boobs. Being completely loopy from the pentathol (which kills inhibitions), I start moving my feet back and forth in a windshield washer-like motion, smiling from ear to ear. She gets a big smile on her face, and then stands more upright so that the fullest part of her boobs are touching my toes, and allows me to continue playing with her boobs all the way back to the room.

I’m sure she figured I was so out of it I wouldn’t remember, but since I was unpopular with the girls at school, hers were the first boobs I ever got to touch, so I still remember it, over 25 years later. Now that’s what I call being an “angel of mercy”.

I am a fourth grade teacher. My class is doing experiments with some powerful magnets.

Me: Do not bring these anywhere close to the classroom computer. These magnets can destroy anything electronic. If you’re playing with the magnet, don’t get near the computer, don’t touch the computer, don’t even THINK about the computer.

A week later, I’m calling my credit card company.

Me: Yes, I’d like to order a new card.
Agent: Certainly, sir. Did you lose your old one?
Me: No. I carried a powerful magnet around in my pocket all day and erased it.

I work at a local pizza place, and since it ian a small business, our technology is not great (the phones are staticky sometimes, which is relevant to the story). I am from Philly, where the shop is located (also relevant). This customer called in one Friday:

Me: Hello, this is [Pizza shop], how can I help you?

Man: I’ll pick up an order under [name].

Me: Alright, what would you like?

Man: I’ll just have a turkey sub with American cheese.

Me: Okay, so it’s just one turkey hoagie for pickup?

Man: No, I want a turkey sub.

Me: Sorry, a turkey club?

Man: No, a sub.

Me: Okay so a turkey hoagie with American cheese?

Man: No, a sub.

Me: A club?

This repeated itself for several minutes, and as the phones could be known to act up, I assumed that I had misheard the man and that he did want a club, since he had bothered to correct me when I said he wanted a hoagie. About fifteen minutes later, he came to pick up the order.

Me: Hello, how can I help you?

Man: Hi, I’m picking up an order for [name].

Me: One turkey club?

Man: No, a turkey sub.

Me: Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misheard you on the phone, I’ll have them make you a turkey hoagie right away.

Man: No, a SUB!

I’m a young female and work in the meat department of a popular supermarket, I’m just a lowly meat clerk and the only one on shift. Unfortunately this happens more often than I’d care to admit. We have a bell to ring in case I’m in back and not at the counter. *me. Cleaning out the sinks and getting ready to break down the cutting/grinding equipment when an irate “let me speak to your manager type lady” barges through the door completely disregarding the service bell and starts laying into me. *Customer: This is absolutely ridiculous do you even work here! I’ve been waiting for 10 minutes waiving my hands and you didn’t even acknowledge me! Me: I’m very sorry ma’am we do have a bell and unfortunately I was busy cleaning but I can definitely help you. (Unfortunately I’m the only one working the meat department and people don’t seem to take into consideration how much work that entails) Customer: Well I didn’t see the bell I don’t normally shop here! You should have been at the counter to help me not back here screwing around I’m in a hurry! “she repeated that roughly 3 times while picking out her fish and finally leaving” The kicker I seen her continue shopping throughout the store well over an hour later.