(I work at a grocery store that is about 10 minutes from an NFL team’s practice facility. As a result, we will get football players in the store every so often. I’m a girl, and I like football, but I’m not one to go totally crazy over it. One of my coworkers, however, is a self-proclaimed “super fan,” and brags every time she gets a player at her register. It’s pretty close to Thanksgiving, so we are busy. I am running something back to the dairy section for a customer when I nearly collide with a very tall man who looks vaguely familiar.)

Me: “Ah! I am so sorry!”

Customer #1: “No need to apologize. I got in your way. It’s pretty crazy in here!”

(I get paged back to my register, sending me running in the other direction. The same customer enters my line about 20 minutes later, followed by another man with a very full cart.)

Customer #2: *holds up sweet potato casserole* “This looks really good. How do we make this?”

Me: “Well, it’s take and bake, so you really don’t have to do anything to it. Just pop it in the oven at 300 degrees for 20 minutes, or until the topping gets crispy.”

Customer #2: “Are you serious? That’s it?”

Me: “Yep! And the directions are under the label if you forget. I buy that every year for my family’s Thanksgiving.”

Customer #2: “HA! That’s perfect. My brother here—” *gestures to [Customer #1]* “—can’t cook, so this’ll be great for our Thanksgiving!”

Customer #1: “HEY!”

Customer #2: “Well, you can’t.”

Me: “It’s so easy, and it’s really good, too. I never have any left over!”

Customer #2: “Fantastic!” *pays* “Have a nice Thanksgiving!” *they wave and walk out*

(The previously mentioned coworker runs over to my register.)

Coworker: “DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT WAS?!”

Me: “Um, they were brothers? One of them looked really familiar, but I can’t place him. He’s probably a regular.”

Coworker: *loudly* “That was [Local Team’s Quarterback]!”

Me: “Wow, could you be any louder about it?”

Coworker: “I can’t believe you call yourself a football fan! You didn’t even recognize him!”

Me: “Because he wears a HELMET during games. Geez. Lighten up.”

Coworker: “NFL players are wasted on YOU! You don’t deserve to have them in your line! I should’ve waited on him!” *stomps off*

(In basic training, we had lectures following marches out in the woods. One I’ll never forget was the lecture on biological and chemical weapons. It is all very serious business until the sergeant who is giving the lecture says this:)

Sergeant: “Nerve gas can cause involuntary urination and defamation.”

(I nearly hurt myself trying not to laugh!)

(We are on a family cell-phone plan. For some reason the phone company has mixed up my number with my teenage daughter’s and is continually calling and messaging her at school about bill payments. I call them about it.)

Me: “Hi, I think you have our numbers confused. Mine should be the main one you call about bills, but I think you have my daughter’s set as that.”

Employee: “Is your number [daughter’s number]?”

Me: “No, that’s my daughter’s. Can you switch them?”

Employee: “[Daughter’s Number] is the main one.”

Me: “Yeah, but—”

Employee: “[Daughter’s Number] is the main one.”

Me: “Look, you need to call—”

Employee: “[Daughter’s Number] is the main one.”

Me: *sighs*

(My mother applies for power of attorney over my grandmother’s finances because she is senile. This is so she can sort out all of my grandmother’s bills, shopping, etc. while she is still in her own home. My mother rings various places, asking them to contact her about this stuff, since it’s causing problems with them only contacting my nan. All are fine with it, except for the bank.)

Mother: *ringing the bank* “Hi, I just wanted to call about this letter you’ve sent my mother.”

Agent: “I’m sorry, we can only speak with the account holder.”

Mother: “I’ve got power of attorney, so I’m acting on her behalf.”

Agent: “We can only speak to the account holder. Is she there? Can you put her on the line?”

Mother: “She is here, but she can’t talk to you. She has severe dementia, so she’s not really aware of her surroundings and can’t communicate.”

Agent: “I can only speak to the account holder. Please put her on if she needs to make a request.”

Mother: “But I have power of attorney! I’ve notified the bank about this before. Is there some kind of evidence I need to provide you with now to sort this over the phone?”

Agent: “Please put the account holder on the line to deal with the request.”

Mother: *frustrated* “All right, then. One moment.” *takes the phone over to my nan, who is playing with some stuffed toys. She puts the phone between them so they can both hear*

Agent: “Hello? Hello, is that Mrs. [Grandmother]?”

Nan: “…” *still playing with toys*

Agent: “Hello? Your daughter said you would like to speak with us about changing your contact address over to her? Would you like to do that, Mrs. [Grandmother]?”

Nan: *incoherent mumbling* The… one is… gone… few…”

Agent: “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear that. Would you like us to change your contact details today, Mrs. [Grandmother]? Also, would you be able to talk to us today about your [savings account]?”

Nan: “…” *oblivious, playing with toys*

(This went on for some time, until the agent finally asked if there was “anything else I can help you with today” and the call was ended. Despite contacting them many times, it never did get sorted. They were still contacting my nan when she was in the dementia unit of a nursing home, cared for by a team of nurses and mostly comatose from the dementia.)

(We pull up into a drive-thru of a common fast food chain.)

Me: “I’d like two orders of tacos and three [Burgers] with a small vanilla [Soda].”

Cashier: “Okay, pull up to the window, please.”

(We get there and she hands us the food. No drink.)

Cashier: “Okay, thank you. Come again.”

(We just sit there until she comes back.)

Cashier: “Are you waiting on something?”

Us: “Ya. We ordered a small vanilla [Soda].”

(She looks like I just asked her to solve an algebra problem and she turns to her (I assume) assistant manager as she walks away.)

Cashier: “Can you deal with them? I have no idea what they want.”