(We are having a family get together, and are watching the Percy Jackson movie. My aunts have a few complaints about the romance in the film, much to the annoyance of my seven-year-old cousin.)

Aunt #1: “Wait, aren’t their parents uncle and niece?”

Aunt #2: “You’re right! Eww, he is totally hitting on his cousin!”

(This goes on for a while until my little cousin turns to them.)

Cousin: *matter-of-factly* “They’re family. They are supposed to love each other.”

Every Adult In The Room: “NOT LIKE THAT!”

(I work in a call center dealing with Americans and insurance claims. A caller calls from Washington state.)

Caller: “Where am I calling to?”

Me: “That would be Halifax, Nova Scotia, sir.”

Caller: “Where’s that?”

Me: “That’s in Canada, sir.”

Caller: “Whoa… so that’s like a foreign country?”

Me: “Yes, sir, we’re located above the US.”

Caller: “Really? You learn something new every day!”

(After the call ends…)

Supervisor: “You should have told him Nova Scotia and Canada were suburbs of New York.”

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(I am attending an event next door. I order a steak sub to go. I leave for a moment, and return just before my order is ready. The employee calls out my name. Before I can get to the counter another customer rushes up, grabs the bag, and walks out. The employee immediately disappears into the kitchen area. The customer comes back in with the sub unwrapped, slams it down on the counter, and yells.)

Customer: “I ordered BREADSTICKS! You ALWAYS mess up my order!”

(The employee looks at it, puzzled. I chime in.)

Me: “That’s because it was my order.”

Employee: “Oh.” *hands it to me* “Well, take it then.”

Me: “I’m not interested in taking a sandwich that another customer has already unwrapped and mangled.”

Employee: “If it was your order why didn’t you take it?”

Me: “She beat me to it. Shouldn’t you double check that it’s the right person grabbing the bag?”

(The employee sighs, and apologizes to the breadstick customer, but not to me.)

Employee: *wearily* “Now I’m going to have to re-make the sub.”
Me: “Well, yeah…”

(I’m starving, and also missing more of the event next door than I’d planned to miss just to grab a sandwich. The customer gets her breadsticks, with another apology, and leaves. Finally I get my sandwich; with no apology, of course. As I walk out, I hear the employee.)

Employee: “Geez, we made her sandwich twice and she didn’t even say thank you.”

(I am doing safety training at work which involved watching several hours of cheesy videos. During a break I text my nephew.)

Me: “Apparently, ‘fire can be fueled by gases, liquids, or solids.’ What does that leave out exactly?”

Nephew: “Jesus?”

Me: “Well, thanks for that image. Jesus is not the answer to everything.”

Nephew: “42?”

Me: “No, I think the mice are lying to us.”

Nephew: “You are drunk, I’m guessing?”

Me: “I’m at work.”

(I am a security guard at an upscale downtown hotel. I am a Caucasian male and the other employee at the desk is our concierge, a third generation American whose parents immigrated from Iraq. A drunk guest comes in and glares at her. He is also a Caucasian.)

Guest: “Hey, security!”

Me: “Yes, sir?”

Guest: “There’s a d*** Muslim at the front desk. You’d better keep an eye on her or she’ll blow us all to h***!”

Me: “Sir, that is our concierge. She’s not going to blow up her place of work. Now, I think it’s time you go to your room.”

(The guest leaves only to return two more times ranting about our concierge. On the third time I inform him to go up or he’ll be kicked out. He does not take it well.)

Guest: “You’re a d*** liberal aren’t you? H***, you’d probably help her plant the d*** bombs!”

Me: *to the concierge* “Please call the police. We have a trespasser.”

(The guest ends up getting into a fight with the police, is arrested, and barred from coming back. The concierge and I begin dating a few weeks later and now, three years later, are celebrating our first anniversary!)