Crazy lady: Help! My food has shit all over it! Help!
Young waitress: Wait, what?
Crazy lady: Don’t “what” me.
Young waitress: No, really, what’s wrong with it? Is it the wrong dish?
Crazy lady: You didn’t tell me it had shit in it.
Young waitress: To what are you referring, precisely?
Crazy lady: The shit the shit the shit! (waves hands madly over dish, gesturing at her pasta, covered in a sauce)
Young waitress: Wait, do you mean the sauce?
Crazy lady: Don’t “sauce” me!
Me: “Hello?”
Male caller: “Hi, I’d like a #9 and–”
Me: “Uh, excuse me?”
Male caller: “That was a #9.”
Me: “This isn’t a sandwich store.”
Male caller: “No? Where am I calling?”
Me: “My… house?”
Male caller: “Oh. Can you make me a sandwich anyway?”
(A woman walks into the coffee shop and orders a latte with “sexy” foam. I make what I thought was a latte with really “sexy” foam.)
Customer: “F***! This isn’t right. I want it with really sexy foam.”
Me: “Okay…”
(I make her another, with lots of really thick foam.)
Customer: “No, no! Sexy foam, really sexy foam!”
Me: “Okay, so less?”
Customer: “No, you know… sexy! Sexy foam!”
(I make her a third drink. This time less foam and more milk.)
Customer: “You don’t get it! I want sexy foam. Really sexy foam!”
Me: *giving up* “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!”
Customer: “Can you tell me how to get to Mount Desert Island?”
Me: “Ma’am, we’re on Mount Desert Island right now.”
Customer: “But, can you drive there?”
Me: “… Yes… remember that bridge you had to cross to get here?”
Customer: “Yeah.”
Me: “Okay, just head back that way, and when you cross the bridge, make a u-turn and come back.”
Customer’s husband: *laughs*