(Every year, my mother takes my sister and I to see the Christmas lights in my hometown. I am 17, and my sister is 14. We’ve been bickering for the last hour, as we’re stuck in a car together.)
Mom: “All right you two, that’s enough! I want you to look at the Christmas lights!”
Me: “We are looking at them!”
Sister: “Yeah, we’ve been appreciating them.”
Mom: “You’re not ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing!”
Sister and I: *in unison, monotone* “Ooooooh, aaaaaaaah.”
Mom: “We’re going home.”
(I am a tenth-grade student spending her free period in the library. It is the first week of school. From my position near the door I can see my old French teacher bringing her new class of seventh-graders into the library to check out the books.)
Librarian: “Wow. The advanced French class has a lot of students this year!”
Teacher: “Yes. We’ve actually got twenty-four students this year. I’m not sure what to do with them all.”
Student: *piping up very excitedly* “We’ve got enough for a hunger games!”
(My boss is always working on little advertising schemes. Her latest appears to be a ‘dinner with Santa’ deal. However, she neglects to tell anyone who is going to be working that day. I find out on a Friday, a little more than a week before it’s scheduled to happen, by seeing a flyer on the door. I realize that it’s a day that I usually waitress alone. After asking several coworkers and realizing none of them know any more about it than I do, I make it a point to ask my boss for more details. I’m mostly curious to know who she’s asking to waitress with me. I assume it’ll be busy and we’ll need the help.)
Me: “Hey, [Boss]. Who’s working with me on that ‘dinner with Santa’ deal?”
Boss: “Who normally buses with you?”
Me: “Well, [Coworker]. But, I meant, who’s waitressing with me?”
Boss: “Do you think we’ll need a second waitress?”
Me: “Do you think we’ll be busy?
Boss: “I hope we’ll be busy! I sent out a ton of flyers!”
Me: “…”
Boss: “Maybe we need a second waitress for that night…”
(A customer walks into the store, explaining ‘Elf on the Shelf’ to her sister. It is a toy resembling one of Santa’s elves, who sits on a shelf in a child’s room.)
Customer: “You tell the kids he’s watching them. At night, he flies back to the North Pole to tell Santa if they’re being good. Then you put him someplace else, like he moved while they were sleeping.”
(The customer sees that we have the plush stuffed elf.)
Customer: “This is the one they can take to bed. You can’t touch the other one or he loses his magic and can’t fly to the North Pole anymore.”
Customer’s Sister: “How can you move him around if you can’t touch him?”
Customer: “…he’s not really magic.”
(I’m sitting at my position, working for a well-known religious charity. I am collecting donations to fund their various charitable programs. A customer walks by.)
Customer: “Merry Christmas!”
Me: “Merry Christmas!”
Customer: “You aren’t allowed to say that!” *walks away*
