My mother had me rather late in life, and I was born via a C-section, two months early. My early life was pretty much spent visiting different doctors, and some of my shots were delayed because I was too weak or sick when I was supposed to get them. One of the shots (Hepatitis B, I believe) was meant to be administered at birth and again at six months, but I got the first dose at three months.

When I’m six months old, my mom takes me to the pediatrician’s office for a regular check-up. Our assigned pediatricians change sometimes, and this one probably isn’t familiar with most of my medical history. Our nurse, though, is wonderful and has seen a lot of me.

Doctor: “Oh. You are six months old. You need to get the [shot], you know that?”

Mom: “Huh? We got the first one only three months ago and were told to wait six months for the second one.”

Nurse: “Yes, this checks out.”

Doctor: “But she’s six months old. You have to get this shot at six months.”

Mom: “Are you sure? It has been only three months, and I’m not sure she’s healthy enough for it right now.”

Doctor: “Yes. You’re going to get the shot at [Clinic] today.”

Nurse: “Wait. It’s only been three months. She shouldn’t be getting this.”

Doctor: “Yes, she should. She’s six months old. Write a referral for today.”

Nurse: “No.”

Doctor: “What? Go ahead!”

Nurse: “Excuse me for a moment!”

And the nurse stormed out the door. A few (pretty awkward) minutes later, she came back, along with an angry Head of Pediatrics, gave us our paperwork with a note about the delayed [shot], and said we could go home for today.

While going to a pediatrician at our state clinic is a lottery, we’ve always had the most awesome nurse watching our backs for over fifteen years. Obviously, I got that shot three months later.

This story is reconstructed partly from my own memory and partly from my grandmother’s.

When I was around four, I was playing in our country house’s yard, and my grandmother was in our outdoor kitchen. Then, suddenly, I had the idea that I wanted to go to the shop for sausages.

Me: “Grandma, I’ll go and buy sausages.”

Grandma responded, thinking I was, you know, playing:

Grandma: “Yes, sure.”

I thought I was good to go, so I just went outside our place and headed down the road with a pink plastic Frisbee disc I was going to use as money. (Don’t ask.)

Now, to put it into perspective: it was 2001, and our country house was located in a little-developed district. That meant there was no electricity almost anywhere, only a couple of telephones within the nearest ten miles, terrible roads, very few neighbors, and lots of forest.

I passed the house of one of the neighbors and — THANK GOD — she was outside.

Neighbor: “Hi! Are you alone?”

Thinking I TOTALLY had Grandma’s permission, I replied:

Me: “Yes, I’m going to the shop to buy sausages.”

Neighbor: “Er, okay…”

As I later found out, she hurried to our house and told my grandparents where I was, and Grandpa was able to catch up with me only a hundred meters further down the road.

Now, that neighbor really, really saved my life that day, which I came to realize after I grew up. Because if she hadn’t seen me, I would have gone on and on and likely gotten lost in the fields and groves that started after the road’s end. Moreover, even had my Grandma realized quickly that I was THAT serious about going to the shop, she would have gone the wrong way to look for me because I didn’t turn right toward where the shops were, which I knew; I turned left! (Don’t ask.)

Obviously, I didn’t even have the time to get scared, so I mostly realized how dreadful the situation was long after it happened. Poor Grandma was absolutely terrified and still recounts it as one of the most nightmarish moments of her life.

I’m staying at [Hotel] in [Small Town] for the first time, and there isn’t much information about their restaurant on their site. I do know that I don’t have breakfast included in my booking.

Late in the evening, I go to check the restaurant’s opening hours.

Night Man: “Oh, the kitchen’s closed, I think, but you can get tea right now. Here’s the hot water and everything. Help yourself.”

At that point, I don’t want tea. In the morning, I learn the kitchen’s exact opening hours at the reception, and:

Me: “So… should I pay for the tea over there?”

Receptionist #1: “Oh, no, it’s free.”

Okay, I believe that, especially since it was free at [Guest House] where I stayed the last time I visited [Small Town]. I drink that tea with my breakfast — the food I’ve bought elsewhere.

The next morning, I get to the restaurant when breakfast is already drawing to a close and [Receptionist #2] is obviously clearing everything up.

Me: “Can I still have the tea now?”

Receptionist #2: “What’s your room number?”

I tell her.

Receptionist #2: “But you don’t have breakfast included. Only the water’s free; the tea costs 50 rubles.”

Me: “Oh, I’m awfully sorry, but I was told by your colleague yesterday that it was free…”

Later that day, I come to the reception and hand over a 100. I explain everything and say it’s for the past two days’ tea.

There are two receptionists on duty, and with my terrible facial memory, I can’t be sure if I talked to either about the tea, but I’m almost certain one of them is [Receptionist #2]. Both receptionists assure me:

Receptionists: “Oh, please, [My Name], it’s all right! Keep that!”

100 rubles is just a bit over $1 in current rates, so I know it was no big loss for them to make this tea on the house, but I really appreciate their friendliness about the whole miscommunication — especially since I’m incredibly nervous around strangers and often go to pieces after making mistakes.

To avoid trouble in the future, I simply bought a box of tea bags from a supermarket. With the amount of tea I drink, it’s the most economic solution.

My dad and stepmom announced that they are going to have a baby. 

As soon as my ten-year-old stepsister and I are out of their immediate earshot…

Stepsister: *In a whisper* “So, are they now going to get locked together in their room?” *Conspiratorially* “One of my friends told me how babies are made!”

I will start by saying that I realize I was a jerk to the fraud agent that I spoke to in this story. My brain-to-mouth filter broke when she revealed herself to be extra stupid.

I travel quite frequently — every six months or so — back and forth from New York to Russia where some of my family lives, and I always put a travel advisory on my account prior to travel.

I use my credit card in a supermarket in Moscow. I then try to use it to buy something from another store and it doesn’t go through. I look at my bank’s app to find that my card is frozen. I call the bank and speak to the fraud department.

Fraud Agent: “We froze your card because it was used in an unknown location.” 

Me: “Oh, really? Where?”

Fraud Agent: “Moscow.”

Me: “Uh, don’t I have a travel advisory on my account?”

Fraud Agent: “Well, yes, but that was for Russia, not Moscow.”

I stared at my phone for a minute wondering if someone could possibly be this stupid.

Me: “Uh, Moscow is in Russia. Now please unfreeze my card.”

Fraud Agent: “Oh, we can’t do that. Once it’s frozen due to fraud, we have to send you a new card.”

I lose it. I definitely am THAT customer.

Me: “Let me get this straight. You’re a moron who doesn’t realize that Moscow is the capital of Russia, which I have a travel advisory for, and have had a travel advisory for every six months for the past ten years I’ve had the card, so you froze the card because you can’t read a f****** map? Now you are telling me you have to send me a new card, even though I am out of the country and obviously won’t get it until I get home two weeks from now?”

She speaks in a sweet way like what I just said made perfect sense.

Fraud Agent: “That’s right. Anything else I can help you with?”

Me: “Uh, yes, you can transfer me to your manager and buy yourself a globe.”

The supervisor was able to unfreeze the card and cancel the new card, and they apologized for the issue. I feel bad that I lost it on the fraud agent, but I seriously could not believe that she was that dumb. What’s worse, there are actually two people in the fraud department that need geography lessons: the one who froze the card in the first place and the woman who answered the phone.