The German word for fries is the French word “pommes” – just in a very butchered pronounciation: “pom-mess”. When I was a child (maybe about 8 or 10), I hated fries. I also was very nervous whenever ordering something at a counter and tried to get everything right. One time, at the movie theatre, I went up to the concessions stand and ordered popcorn – except I confused it with another word starting with “po-“.

Me (excitedly): One small pommes, please!
Vendor, without skipping a beat: With ketchup or mayonnaise?

(Mind you, this movie theater does not sell fries and never has.)

An awkward silence ensued with him looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to get the joke and my mistake, and me being quite baffled. At first, I was trying to understand what just happened and then I sort of panicked, afraid that I might get fries – which I hate – for the little pocket money I have with me. After a short silence with me processing this, I suddenly realised what must have happened and I quickly tried to fix my mistake to keep him from selling me fries.

Me (agitated): No, wait! I wanted popcorn! Not pommes!

The vendor laughed and assured me that he understood what I actually wanted. He got a good laugh out of it – and I did, too, after I realised that he was just messing with me and had no intention of selling me non-existant food that I hated. I still laugh about it to this day, so thank you, dear movie theatre vendor!

My 3-year-old nephew was playing with my mom (his grandmother) and then wanted to read some stories.
Grandma: Ok, pick out the stories you want to read together.
3-year-old picks out a book and hands it to his grandma.
Picks out another book and hands it over.
Tries to hand her a third book.
Grandma: You’ll have to carry that one, I only have two hands.
3-year-old: You’re an octopus!!
Problem solved. :-D

Me and my friend discovered a great band playing the pub scene in Melbourne in the eighties. We became late night friends with a lot of people who liked what we liked, but had nothing in else in common with. One of those was the fulcrum of the band’s fan culture. He invited us to his 21st birthday party at the his home in a satellite town of the the city.

Me and my friend liked and respected this guy, but didn’t have a lot in common with him. We wanted to buy him a lovely present, but were stumped – so we ended up getting him a nice pen, probably a Schafer. In the eighties, a pen was a nice present. But just. I so wished we could have got something more personal. But we had no ideas.

It was an open house, and we arrived mid afternoon. We didn’t feel we could leave until someone else arrived. Eventually, another pair of young women did, very similar to us. We exchanged greetings with the next visitors, and made our excuses. As we left, I saw two newcomers hand him their present. Yeah, it was a pen.

He was such a nice guy, literally creating a community and all we could do was give him pens.

We were, at the time, the hot girls. But the hot girls gave him pens, so I don’t know what he did with that.

My uncle has just had cataract surgery. His son drove him to the hospital and is now walking with him, back to the car. My uncle is a very stubborn man and despite having impaired vision, refuses to use the lift or get any assistance going down the stairs.

He misses the last step and fell down. He is unable to get up on his own, is taken for x-rays and they discover that has a small fracture in his hip that needs surgery. Unfortunately for my cousin, that surgery needs to be performed at another hospital, so he has to drive back and forth to get my uncle all that he needs there.

My uncle’s reaction to it all: “Next time I won’t be stubborn and I will just take the lift.

(When people call to ask if we have something in stock, we are coached #1 not to give out the exact number we have on the shelf, and #2 to ask how many they need first. I’m not sure the reason behind #1, but #2 is to avoid potentially awkward situations – I look in my system and see we have 20 in stock, so I say yes, we have that in stock, only to have the customer say, “Thank heavens, I need 50 for tomorrow!”)

Caller: Can you check stock for me?

Me: Sure, what’s the item?

Caller: (gives the item number)

Me: And how many do you need? (For the record, we had 5.)

Caller: Is it in stock?

Me: I’m taking a look. How many would you need?

Caller: (irritated) Why does that matter? Is it in stock?

Me: This is an item we stock, but I want to make sure we have enough stock to cover your need.

Caller: (shouting) WHY THE HELL SHOULD IT MATTER? YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW! I JUST NEED A TWO-WORD ANSWER FROM YOU, IN STOCK OR NO STOCK!

(At this point, he hangs up on me. Later, an order from his company comes in. They were asking for 7 of that particular part.)