(I am at the gym, using the back and leg weight machines while reading an interesting hardcover book I brought with me. I think it is very appropriate to be reading this one in the gym, since it’s about self-defense tactics for women. The book has a long sentence as a title, and one of the many words in it is “feminist,” used as an adjective. I’m a young woman. Some random young guy comes right up to me while I’m sitting at the back-extension machine.)

Random Guy: “Hi there. It really looks like that book is fascinating. What is it about?”

Me: *wondering where this is going* “It’s about self-defense.” *looks back down at the book*

Random Guy: “Oh.”

(He looks at me for a beat, then, without a word, extends his hand, takes hold of the top of the book and, while I’m reading it, tilts it upright so he can look at the cover. He looks for all of one second, then:)

Random Guy: “Oh. It’s about ‘Fehhhminism.’ Why didn’t you just say it’s about ‘Fehhhminism’?”

Me: *speechless*

(I said nothing, just stared him down in sheer disbelief at his gall until he seemed to get the message and went away. Really, it’s like he was going for top award at the Mansplaining Competition — “explaining” to me what the book I was in the middle of reading at that moment was “actually” about, from his own grand expertise of skimming the title, with extra bonus irony points for the coincidental involvement of the word “feminist.”)

(I’ve been feeling a bit ill, and my friend suggests I get some food since I haven’t eaten all day. The nearest fast food place has recently gotten self-service kiosks, which I really like using. After paying for my food, I go to the pick up area, and there are several other customers waiting. Three young boys, probably 12 to 15 years old, are stood flush against the counter, leaning over it and trying to claim every order the servers bring forward, loudly proclaiming that it is their food. The servers aren’t stupid, and do their best to work around them. One of the boys already has a bag of food; I don’t know if it is his or not. My order has some special food items in it, so it is taking a little while longer than most of the other orders. I’ve seen these jacka**es try and pull this stunt with about twenty people’s food by the time I see a server put my order together and bring it forward. One of the boys leans forward, grasping for bag.)

Child #1: “That’s mine. Give it here.”

Server: *doing their best to ignore him and keep food out of his reach* “Number 875?”

Child #1: “Come on, d**k. Give me my food.”

Me: *stepping forward, holding my numbered ticket aloft* “Me, thanks.”

Child #2: *reaching to grab food as it’s handed over* “Give it, b****!”

Me: *snatching it, drawing back, and giving these punk kids my best death glare* “If you try to take my food, I will f****** bite you!”

(I’m in my mid-twenties but I often get mistaken for being much younger.)

Child #3: “What did she say?”

Child #2: “She said if we take her food she’ll bite us.”

Child #1: “Please, you’re like twelve!”

(I take a step forward to challenge them, but they all take a huge step away, clearly wary I’ll follow through on my threat. I leave with my food and message my friend to tell him what just happened.)

Me: “You won’t believe what just happened.”

(I tell him.)

Friend: “See? I told you food would get you back to normal.”

(My uncle’s friend’s partner has taken a liking to my grandmother. My uncle warns my mother to keep an eye on this woman; he doesn’t trust her, as his friend told him she was a golddigger, which is why he never married her. We notice that she has manipulated my grandmother into giving her specific items that she likes. My grandmother lives in my parent’s house, and one day my mother finds a handwritten note on my grandmother’s table.)

Note: “I, [Grandmother] hereby adopt [Friend] as my daughter.” *signed and dated by [Grandmother]*

Mum: “What the hell is this?”

Grandmother: “Oh, I was going to give that to [Friend] when she’s here today”

Mum: “Was this [Friend]’s idea?”

Grandmother: “Um… No, I thought it would be nice; she doesn’t have a family.”

Mum: “Has [Friend] seen this? Did you tell her that you wrote it?”

Grandmother: “No, not yet.”

Mum: “Please don’t do this again; I don’t trust her.”

Grandmother: “But she’s all alone; she’s got no family.”

Mum: “She’s got family and even grandchildren.”

(Mum made sure she stayed during the woman’s visit, happily telling the woman the story of how they had extended their house so that grandmother had her own rooms. She told me that the look on the woman’s face showed that she had thought that my grandmother owned the house.)

(I’m sixteen and my sister is seven. I’m a natural brunette while my sister is a natural ginger. We’re with our mother, shopping. My mom is hearing impaired and also a ginger. While mom is looking at some products in the opposite end of the aisle, I take care of my own half of the shopping list.)

Woman: *playing with my sister’s hair* “Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing?”

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t touch my sister without permission.”

Woman: “Oh, don’t worry dear; she doesn’t seem to mind. I don’t bite.”

(My sister is very shy and goes mute with people she doesn’t know. The woman is obviously not listening and Mom probably won’t hear me. Being the immature teen I am…)

Me: “Ma’am, she has a bad case of lice. Please stop touching her hair.”

(The woman goes pale and runs towards the bathrooms. My mom catches up with us, very confused.)

Mom: “Why was that woman running like she saw the devil?”

Me: “She wouldn’t stop playing with [Sister]’s hair, so I told her she has lice.”

Sister: “Yup.”

Mom: *laughing* “I had a similar thing happen when you were a toddler, [My Name], and I said the exact same thing.”

(During college I work at the associated daycare centre. Due to a genetic disorder, my right eye is puffy and closed. At the end of fall semester my freshman year, it is decided I need to have the eye removed. I have the surgery during the three-week term during January. I start working again spring semester. A child is sitting in my lap while I read to him. A second child comes and stands in front of me.)

Child: “Did your eyeball fall out?”

(I am shocked and have to frantically find an answer that will be accepted by him while not freaking him out.)

Me: “Um, no, the doctors decided that to make me better they needed to take it out.”

Child: “Okay.”

(I love the honesty of children, and how much they want to learn about the world around them. I do not like when parents shush them, because it teaches them it is not okay to politely ask questions of people.)