Me: “Hi! Extra large steeped tea, please.”

Employee: “Three milk, one sugar, right?”

Me: “Nearly! The exact opposite.”

Employee: “Oh, okay. One sugar, three milk.”

(My boyfriend and I are regulars at this restaurant, and as such, our orders are fairly well known.)

Me: “I want a Number 1, with cheese, only ketchup and mayo, medium, with a pineapple smoothie.”

Cashier: “Okay, that’s a Number 1, with cheese, only ketchup and mayo, medium, with a pineapple smoothie. I should have this memorized by now!”

Me: “If we keep coming in here every weekend, you will!”

(While my boyfriend places his order, I go sit down and wait for our food.)

Cashier: *to the grillworker* “This sandwich is supposed to be only ketchup and mayo.”

Grillworker: “Okay, gotcha.”

(A few minutes later, I hear the cashier talking to the grillworker again.)

Cashier: “This isn’t what I asked for. Only ketchup, only mayo, cheese. This is that sandwich, without lettuce.”

Grillworker: “Right, that sandwich, without lettuce.”

Cashier: “No. Only ketchup, only mayo, with cheese.”

Grillworker: “Okay, I’ll fix it.”

(This goes on for awhile. Eventually, our order comes up, and my sandwich is correctly labeled. What did I find when I opened it? No lettuce, no mayo, ketchup, mustard, and pickles. I show it to the cashier.)

Cashier: “Why is it that they stick me with the idiots on Sundays?”

Me: “Your employer does that to you, too?”

Me: “Can I get eight ounces of the sliced ham?”

Deli Worker: “We can’t do that.”

Me: “Okay, how about half a pound?”

Deli Worker: “Sure thing!”

Related:
Not Even Half A Brain

(I’m at a job retreat, and am having an interesting conversation with my co-workers. Note: I am an out lesbian.)

Coworker #1: “You know, I didn’t think I’d like the movie Tangled, but I did like it. It was cute.”

Me: *laughs* Oh, man. My girlfriend is totally like Rapunzel. The blonde hair, the bubbly personality, the singing. She’s totally her Disney princess.”

(By this point, everyone seems to get that I’m gay except one coworker.)

Coworker #2: “So, is your boyfriend like the Flynn Rider guy?”

Me: “N… no. I said my girlfriend.”

Coworker #2: *blank stare*

Me: “You know… girlfriend.”

Coworker #2: *blank stare*

Me: “…I’m gay, dude.”

Coworker #1: “I think everyone got that.”

Me: “Not everyone, apparently!”

Related:
As Clear As Gay

(I’m 20 at the time and training a temp worker who was in her 40s.)

Me: “Okay, so all the claims are filed first by the year the loss occurred, then alphabetically by last name. Any questions?”

New Hire: “Nope, it’s pretty standard.”

(A few hours later…)

Me: “[New Hire], can you please find these three files for me?”

New Hire: “Okay, found them.”

(I look at the new hire’s empty hands.)

Me: “…Where are they?”

New Hire: “Right where they should be: Smith is under ‘S’, Jones is under ‘J’, and Anderson is under ‘A’.”