We have several hand made crafts in the front lobby, made by one of our staff. Each one has a sign on it that says in English and French “DO NOT TOUCH!!!”
A group of boys, about 9 years old is walking by one of the crafts. One little boy, stops, touches it lightly with his finger, then runs to catch up to his friends. He puffs out his chest, throws back his shoulders and in a very cool, laid back voice he says:
Boy: Hey guys, (points back at the craft and sign) I just touched that. I’m such a rebel.
They all looked back in awe and he strutted off like a big man. That made me smile all evening.

(This was several years ago, at a popular sandwich shop. This is my first real job, and I’m a young, petite female closing the store alone. I locked the doors a couple minutes early, because I just wanted to finish and go home before it got really late. A young woman with several very young children comes and bangs on the door. I reluctantly let her in.)

Customer: Why did you lock the doors? It’s not 9 yet!

Me: *ashamed* I’m sorry, I just wanted to go home, and don’t like walking in the dark any more than I have to.

Customer: Well, you shouldn’t close early! It’s bad business!

(I make her sandwiches, then lock up again. I never locked up early again. I heard from another coworker that this lady always came in late at night to buy dinner for herself and her young children.)

(I work in an upscale coffee lounge in a five-star hotel.)

Madam: “I’d like a coffee, a weak coffee, please. Tell you what, I’ll have a weak flat white.”

Me: “Madam, our Flat White’s are generally double shot, would you like a latte instead?” *our Latte’s are only single shot*

Madam: “Oh no, Latte’s are a strong coffee, I’ll have a weak Flat white.”

Me: “Of course Madame.”

We have a regular commonly referred to as “The Red-Head B****”. She is unpleasant and rude. Any time someone different is on a shift, she makes ridiculous complaints. It’s completely dead and very quiet the day before a holiday; I am chatting quietly with a close coworker on my break, discussing my mat-leave options (yay!).
RHB: *calls out loudly 2 tables away* “Well, your personal problems sound very upsetting.”

We are silent; what can she mean? It hits me like a ton of bricks (I look younger than I am) and I lose it a bit after months of her daily abuse, and march to her table.

Me: “Are you referring to the fact that I’m pregnant?”

*She arches eyebrow smugly*

Me: “Yeah, Look. I’m 25, I’ve been happily married for 2 years, and we’ve been hoping for a baby. Also, this is not my ‘real’ job; I actually own and operate a successful event floral design company. I’ve seen you enjoying the designs I bring in. So maybe before you decide to judge and run your mouth, you can remember that we all know you’re unpleasant to us daily because you are a sad, empty woman. We feel sorry for you.”

*silence*

Me: *scarily pleasant* “So are y’done here? Can I take these for you?” (her dishes)

RHB: “Uh….yes. I’m all done.”

*leaves*
*Owners commend me, loudly declaring “THAT RED-HEAD-B****TCH!”*

This happened back in the ’80s. I was in my early teens. We were on vacation and went into a fast food place that has a jingle that lists the ingredients in their signature burger. They had a sale on cheese burgers, 29 cents, regular 69 cents, but hamburgers were still 49 cents.

Cashier: Can I help you?

Me: Hi. I’d like a cheese burger with no cheese, and a root beer.

Cashier: So, you want a hamburger?

Me: No, I’d like a cheese burger with no cheese, and a root beer, please.

Cashier: *puzzled look*

Other cashier: *moves beside first cashier and speaks quietly* The cheese burgers are on sale. The hamburgers are not. It’s less money to get a cheese burger without cheese.

Cashier: *look of understanding* Oh, OK.

The rest of the transaction went smoothly.