(This story takes place when I’m about six and my little sister is three. It is my dad’s birthday, and our gift to him is a pair of pants.)

Me: *to sister* “Now remember, don’t tell Daddy we got him those pants, okay?”

Sister: “Right! Don’t tell Daddy we got him those pants!”

(Our dad gets home from work a few minutes later. My sister immediately runs to greet him.)

Sister: “Daddy! We got you a present! And it’s NOT pants!”

(I’ve recently dyed my hair. It’s not bright, but it’s still an unnatural shade of red. I’m a little worried that the manager is going to say something. I get there, and he doesn’t mention anything until about halfway through my shift.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], did you dye your hair?”

Me: “Yeah, I did it while I was off.”

Manager: “What color is it?”

Coworker: “….You can’t tell?”

Manager: “I’m colorblind…”

Me: “…It’s brown!”

(We all laughed. I didn’t get in trouble.)

(Before any upcoming election, my family gets telemarketer calls urging us to vote for a certain candidate. We don’t care, and ask to be taken off the list, but they always start calling a week later. Eventually, when the phone rings, I ask to pick it up.)

Telemarketer: “Is [Parent] there?”

Me: “Sorry, who is this?”

Telemarketer: “I’m a representative for the [Party] convention and we wanted to make sure that we have [Parent]’s vote for the upcoming Congressional election. Every vote counts! Here’s why [Parent] should vote for [Candidate]…”

(He goes on for the next five minutes to list the reasons that my parents should vote for a certain candidate, and even lists what we can do to help (give money) if we don’t vote!)

Me: “Okay. Let me get a few things straight. This is the fourth time you’ve called since we’ve asked you to take us off the list. Why did we ask you to take us off the list? First of all, I’m 17. Not of legal voting age. Second of all, I’m in AP Statistics. For the culmination end-of-year project, I did an observational study and mathematically proved that the arrest rate for Congress is 2.3 times that of the average American, and I speak for my family when I say I refuse to take part in an institution that puts those people in any position of power.”

(The telemarketer is silent for a few seconds and then I hear him trying to conceal his laughter.)

Telemarketer: “Okay. You’re off the list. That was the best thing I’ve heard today. Can I steal that?”

(I arrive for my work shift and greet my coworker. After I clock in and the only customer in the store leaves, she decides to use the restroom. I’m working on the store computer when I suddenly hear her shriek.)

Me: “What happened?! Are you all right?”

Coworker: *comes out looking pale* “There was an old woman in here about an hour ago, who really needed to use the bathroom. So we let her.”

Me: “Okay…?”

Coworker: “She left a pile of paper towels full of s*** in the sink!”

(Stunned, I follow her into the single-toilet bathroom and stare in horror at the mess, which is exactly as she described. We get the mess cleaned up and try to joke each other out of our disgust, when her phone rings.)

Coworker: *looks at the text and chuckles* “It’s my daughter. She’s taken a job as a hostess at [Restaurant Chain], and she just messaged to say she had to clean up vomit. Now I can reply and say I had to clean up s***! They don’t pay us enough for this!”

(A fun new Polaroid style camera has come out and is extremely popular for Christmas gifts. I am talking to a middle-aged woman who should have grown up with film cameras.)

Customer: “So the camera’s 100 bucks, and the photo paper is 20 bucks for 20? That’s so expensive!”

Me: “Yeah, it’s a little expensive.”

Customer: “And how much is the ink?”

Me: “There is no ink.”

Customer: “So the pictures aren’t even in colour!?”

Me: “Yes, they’re in colour.”

Customer: “Right so when the ink runs out, I’ll have to get more.”

Me: “No it doesn’t use ink; it’s film.”

Customer: “What do you mean it doesn’t use ink!? How does the picture print?”

Me: “It doesn’t technically print; it develops. It’s film.”

Customer: “I don’t get what you mean.”

Me: “The film is a special type of paper that reacts to light. When you take the picture, the light imprints on the paper, and when it comes out, it’s a picture. It’s like a Polaroid.”

Customer: “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m sure the ink is expensive.”