In the late 1990s (before cell phones were widely used), my sixth-grade class went on a field trip to a couple of local museums. Our school was very small, and our class only had around twenty students, so instead of taking a bus, a few parents volunteered to drive everyone.

We spent a couple of hours at the first museum and then loaded up and travelled about twenty minutes to the second museum, which was showing an IMAX film related to our recent studies.

As my group was walking into the building, we saw one of the parent drivers jogging back to his minivan as fast as his chubby legs would allow. As he ran, he yelled back across the parking lot:

Parent: “WE LEFT MRS. [TEACHER]!”

Yes, we had managed to get every child and parent transported successfully, but we left our teacher in the parking garage at the first museum. Since we were in several vehicles, no one had noticed until we all arrived at the second location and someone realized she was missing. (Again, no cellphones to call for help.)

She did finally make it to the museum in time to head back to school with the rest of the group!

I work for a very popular, worldwide grocery store that sells a little bit of everything. An older woman approaches me asking if we have any flannel. So far, so good.

I show her our selection. We don’t have the solid color she wants, and she seems a little grouchy about this, but, hey, I’ve dealt with it plenty of times.

She soon chooses a plaid patterned flannel and wants two yards. I cut out the two yards she wants. As soon as I do, though, I realize that someone has taken the handheld device I need to price it. I apologize and quickly go find another one.

As soon as I come back, I have to boot the thing up. The woman seems a little irritated but so far remains silent. I get the device up and try to log into the app that lets me price the fabric, but it’s not letting me.

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but I’m having a little trouble logging into the handheld.”

Customer: “Well, I need this fabric today!”

Me: “I understand, ma’am. Let me try rebooting it.”

I try to reboot the device, but lo and behold, it still won’t let me log in.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there must be something wrong with the device. Let me go get another one.”

Customer: “All right, you go do that.”

I go and get another handheld. Uh-oh, this one won’t let me log in, either.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but I’m still having issues. Let me try rebooting this device.”

Customer: “Well, I need this fabric done in ten minutes!”

This handheld still isn’t letting me log in. I’m at a loss here.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m very sorry. I’m not sure what’s going on here. Let me go get a manager for you.”

She then grabs the fabric, pulls it toward her, and then points at the sticky notes and pen on my counter.

Customer: “Just let me write my name and number and I’ll pay for this another day!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t take an item without paying for it.”

Customer: “But I need this fabric today!“

Me: “I understand that, ma’am. Let me get a manager and see if they can find another way to ring it up.”

She then just huffs at me and throws the fabric at me before stomping off and yelling.

Customer: “I might be back!” 

After she left, I realized that I must still be logged into the device the person stole. I got a coworker to log in for me, got the fabric priced, and left it on the table for the customer as I escaped into the break room to calm down.

I’m in class. One kid loudly burps and farts at the same time. This isn’t a quick “bleh” but a really long, drawn-out brrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaapppp, and an equally long, low frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt. It practically rattles the windows.

The teacher turns and stares at the class.

Teacher: “Who did that?”

We all point at the guilty culprit, who looks very proud of himself.

Teacher: “Look. Normally, I’d send you to the principal for being so disruptive, but… I’ve never had a kid burp and fart that loudly — and simultaneously at that! Go to the nurse so we can figure out what’s wrong with you, and maybe report to the biology department for vivisection after.”

A few months later, I sat with the kid at lunch, and he told me his parents put him on a restrictive diet on the recommendation of the school nurse after that event.

My wife and I go to a restaurant to get dinner together for our anniversary. We have a nice meal, the service is good, and we ask for our bill.

The waiter disappears into the back. We wait for about ten minutes and then ask one of the other waiters. He disappears into the back, too. Ten more minutes and neither waiter has returned from the back, so we ask a third waitress. She too disappears into the back and never returns.

At this point, there are only two waitstaff left helping anyone. We flag one down.

Me: “Look, we’ll wait ten more minutes, but we only have a card, no cash, and it’s been a half-hour since we asked for the bill. If one of the waiters we’ve sent to the back doesn’t come out with the bill in ten more minutes, we’re just going assume that the manager intends to comp us for the inconvenience and walk out without paying.”

Waiter: “Oh, please don’t do that.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we can’t wait forever. We have things we plan to do today, and we’re already well over our budgeted time for eating.”

Waiter: “I’ll be right out with your bill!”

Now, only one waitstaff was at the front, running back and forth from the kitchen. We waited for ten minutes and then packed up and left.

No one contacted us later, and we never returned to that restaurant. They’re still open.

I am a kindergarten teacher. Today, I am supposed to be working on the seasons with children. After explaining the four seasons and going through activities where I get kids to describe each of them in their own words, I ask:

Me: “Okay, kids, what’s your favorite season?”

One kid shouts out:

Kid: “KETCHUP!”

Most of the other kids then chime in to say that ketchup is their favorite season. Some of them like mustard or mayonnaise, though they seem to struggle to understand the difference, a small contingent uncertainly chooses chocolate, and one weird little kid’s favorite is salt.

I had been planning to decorate the classroom according to the kid’s favorite season for the next day. I was expecting spring, summer, winter, or fall. As a result of the unexpected result of the vote, I was forced to scramble to decorate the classroom following the theme of “ketchup”. 

I hope that my class, in the years to come, looks back on this and remembers the time they collectively decided their favorite “season” was “ketchup” and the teacher decorated accordingly.