Or, one of those times when no possible comeback could cut it.
As evidenced by the thread title, I work in a movie theatre. Specifically, behind the counter of a small cafe-slash-smoothie booth. We sell pretzels, coffee, blended smoothies, slushie things, and–most importantly–these hot dogs that we cook wrapped up in dough (and sometimes cheese) and drizzle with butter and that are really nummy, I promise.
Anyways, I’ve got a tray of them out and I’m at the cash register. A woman wanders up. She looks perfectly sane and normal, with a sweet, calm, placid air. (Somewhere, the Jaws theme starts playing.)
The woman stares for a while at our glass case, where our pretzels and hotdogs are stashed. A long while. No big rush; passing glaciers inch by while she strolls around a bit.
The big manic customer-service grin on my face is starting to get a little lopsided when she comes up to me. In a kindly, saintly tone:
Woman: Your store sells pornographic sausages, you know.
Woman: Really. Pornographic sausages.
Kythereia: … (croaky noise)
Woman: Never mind. You’ll get it when you’re older. leaves
In retrospect, of course, it was absolutely hilarious. But what do you say to that?