A customer walks in, takes one look at the guitars, and asks:

Customer: “Which ones are the lead guitars?”

My wife and I have two huskies, and we take them on car rides to the dog park almost every weekend (weather permitting) and to the pet store at least once a month.

It is early Sunday morning, and we’re heading to the pet store. We get the dogs in the car, and our female husky is content; she’s quietly sitting in the back and watching things out the rear window. Our male husky is his usual self — overly excited. He’s up and down over the back seat and being talkative for the first few minutes. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive to the pet store. After a few minutes, our male husky calms down, and he’s now laying down in the back.

We get within about a half-mile of the pet store, and both dogs must be able to smell the change in the air; they’re excited. They’re both now standing and watching out the windows as we drive closer and closer. We turn into the parking lot and it’s empty. It’s odd that the time is around 8:20 am and they’re not open. We pull up to the entrance and I read the “Hours of Operations” sign.

Sundays: Open 9:00 am.

We’re early. Okay, I guess we’ll make an unscheduled stop at the dog park about five minutes away and then come back.

My wife starts to turn and drive out of the parking lot, and our male husky freaks out and starts to panic. He’s trying to climb up into my lap in the front seat, and he’s whining like a baby and howling as we drive out of the parking lot and away from the store.

I’ve never seen him act that way before. It’s the funniest reaction I’ve ever seen a dog have. Drive to the pet store and then drive away without stopping? He was so upset. Poor puppy!

In the end, after about twenty minutes at the dog park, we go back to the store so he can get his people fix in. He loves meeting all the people, and if other dogs are in the store, that is just an added bonus.

My family is from Canada, and we’re on vacation at a magical place where all your dreams come true. My fiancée and two of her brothers — ages seven and ten — were invited to come with, so they agreed and flew down with us. Her youngest brother is deaf and primarily speaks using ASL (American Sign Language). He likes to hang around with me but looks nothing like me. I am Native American, while my fiancée and her brothers are Metis. It should also be known that I have my trained PTSD service dog in full vest with me.

I have just returned from getting myself something to eat and have sat down on a bench with the seven-year-old. He starts signing to me excitedly that he has just met one of his favourite characters while I was getting food, but he stops as he sees a little girl, around three, come close and pet my dog. He starts pointing to get my attention and I turn to look at the younger girl.

Me: “Oh, no, no, sweetie. We don’t touch this dog; she’s a working dog.”

Girl: “But I wanna!”

She goes to pet my dog with determination in her eyes like I have never seen before.

Me: “I know you do, but do you see the clothes she’s wearing? When you see this patch on a doggie—”

I point to the large patch on the side of the vest: a red hand with “STOP! DO NOT TOUCH: SERVICE DOG” on it.

Me: “—it means we don’t touch, because that dog is working.”

Girl: *Dejectedly* “Oh…”

She runs off to find her parents. I think this is the end of it, and I go back to signing with [Seven-Year-Old]. A few minutes later, however, I hear crying, and I look up to see a swearing man stomping up to me.

Man: “Who the f*** do you think you are, you [Latino slur]?! How dare you tell my daughter what she can and cannot do?!”

Me: “Your daughter was distracting my dog from doing her job, which puts my safety at risk.”

Man: “I don’t give a f***! All you [slur]s are the same, thinking they can do whatever they want! Why don’t you go back to Mexico where you belong?!”

Me: “First, I’m Native American, not Latino. I don’t even remotely look like I’m Latino in any way, shape, or form. Secondly, I’m from Canada, and I do expect to return in two weeks when my vacation is over. Third, there are children around you and you’re throwing a temper tantrum because I wouldn’t let your daughter touch my working service dog. What a great father you are, showing her that if you get loud and throw a tantrum, you can be a racist s***bag!”

By now, I can feel my dog nudging me to tell me that I am in a situation that I should leave or I risk having a meltdown of my own. I go to stand, but the man looks at [Seven-Year-Old], who has been playing with the light-up ears I bought him.

Man: “You and your [very racist slur for Native Americans] dad should go back to your reserve; you don’t belong in the white world.”

I lose it. I stand to my full 6’4” height, towering over the man before I lean over to look him square in the eye. By now, we’ve drawn a slight crowd.

Me: “Say that again, but to my face this time.”

The man began to stammer before a cast member arrived with security.

In the end, they took statements from everyone and kicked the man and his family out of the park.

My wife and I have some experience with trying to sell stuff we don’t need anymore at an online marketplace. The reason we do this is that we don’t like wasting something that could be useful to someone else, but also that, occasionally, it is easier to have big stuff like furniture or an old mini-oven picked up by someone rather than having to get rid of it by yourself.

We’re trying to sell off our laminate floor because it is partially damaged. Our first post asks for some money for it but it gets no response. My wife changes it to “free.” Now, responses come flooding in.

Keep in mind that the ad says that you have to pick up the floor yourself and that we like to discuss who will remove the flooring and who will get rid of the damaged bits as this job would incur a payment.

Customer #1: “I’d like to pick it up.”

Wife: “Great. Now the question: who is going to get rid of the damaged parts? If you do, the floor is yours for free.”

Customer #1: “You. Your ad says I don’t need to do that.”

Wife: “The ad says we want to discuss this, yes, and that’s what we are doing now. You don’t need to take the damaged bits, but in that case, we would like a little payment in return. since getting rid of it will cost us a bit because we don’t own a car.”

Customer #1: “Sorry, I don’t own a car, either.”

Wife: “Well, you said you were going to pick the floor up. This implies you have some kind of transport, right? So, here’s the deal: you make it a bit easier for us and we make it free for you.”

His tone changes.

Customer #1: “Never mind, ‘cause apparently, you can’t read! Just changing it all by the minute! I said I don’t have a car and I don’t want the damaged parts! And now I don’t want any of it!”

Wife: “Okay, bye.”

It was quite clear he thought “discussing” meant he was going to tell us what he wanted and that we just had to obey his wishes.

And then, there was this person who didn’t read the ad:

Customer #2: “I’d like part of the floor, but only if it could be sent over to my place in [Town on the other side of the country].”

My family and I were having dinner one night. My brother (2 and 3/5 at the time) loves dinosaurs and my dad likes to watch dinosaur movies with him. My mom and I are absolutely clueless about dinosaurs. My mother and I like to watch Korean Dramas.

Mom: *randomly says* Araso? (something she picked up)

Brother: Stegosaurus.

Mom: What?

Dad: He thinks its Aragosaurus. *says name of a dinosaur*

Mom: *says name of a dinosaur*

Me: Uhhhh… Dinosaurus-saurus?