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 buying a common cold medicine that is OTC, but you have to be 18 to buy. At the time, I’m 19.)

Cashier: “I need to see your ID.”

(I hand it to her.)

Cashier: “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t sell this to you.”

Me: “What? Why not? ”

Cashier: “Well, I have to be able to verify you’re over 18.”

Me: “Is there a problem with my ID?”

Cashier: “You were born in 1989.”

Me: “Yes, and it’s 2008, so I’m 19.”

Cashier: “But you could be lying because I don’t know how to figure out how old you are if you were born in 1989. It’s too hard to subtract!”

Employee: “Hi, can I help you?”

Me: “Hi, could I get 12 ounces of the salmon?”

Employee: “…Ounces?”

Me: “Oh, three-quarters of a pound?”

Employee: “Do you want more… or less… than half?”

Me: “…More. Three-fourths.”

Employee: *confused*

(I glance at the readout on the counter scale.)

Me: “Like, .75?”

Employee: “OH! .75! Why didn’t you just say so?”

Manager: “Guess what?”

Co-worker: “What?”

Manager: “The new store in [city] just made $9,000 last week. That’s almost a million!”

(I’m with my dad at a local hardware store buying paint. We have bought paint at a sister store under the same company so we have their paint formula card with us. An elderly male employee comes up to us as we wait.)

Employee: “Can I help you guys today?”

My Dad: “Yes, we need a gallon of this paint right here. We have the formula.”

(After looking at the paint card, the employee grabs a gallon of white paint and gets ready to add the mix. He looks at the card for another two minutes before handing it back to my dad.)

Employee: “I hope you guys aren’t in a hurry because this may take awhile.”

(Note: it’s never taken more than a minute to mix paint at either store.)

My Dad: “Why? What’s the problem?”

Employee: “Well, you asked for a gallon of this color, but you gave me the formula for a quart of paint. I’m gonna need some time to convert the formula to gallon.”

(My dad and I turn and look at each other, completely dumbfounded at what the employee said. Choosing not to humiliate the guy we give in.)

My Dad: “Okay, I’ll come pick it up tomorrow morning.”

Employee: “Perfect, because [employee that's a family friend of ours] is working then, so maybe she can figure this out!”