(I work at an IT help desk during college, helping both students and faculty. We have a call from a Computer Science professor; he is in the middle of teaching a classroom and wants a new mouse.)

Me: *entering classroom* “You asked for a new mouse, right?”

Professor: “It took you long enough! We’ve been waiting to start class for 15 minutes now!”

Me: “Well, here you go.”

(I put his mouse on the desk and start to walk out.)

Professor: “Wait, aren’t you going to install it?”

Me: “…It’s a USB mouse.”

Professor: “So? I don’t know how to install these things!”

Me: “It’s a plug-and-play mouse. Sir, you just—”

Professor: “Just install the d*** mouse!”

(At this point, I realize what I’m dealing with. I walk over, plug the mouse into the port labelled “USB” on the front of the tower, and walk out. The class erupts into laughter. The next day, he filed a complaint against the IT department for ‘Defamation and Public Humiliation’.)

(I am waiting to punch in for the day. As I am, one of my coworkers is having a issues with an item. Another coworker is helping her out.)

Coworker #1: “So, do you know how to do this?”

Coworker #2: “I have not done this type of math since like the 5th grade! No. Hey, [Coworker #3] get over here!”

(Coworker #3 goes over, and he is having issues. I walk over, still not punched in.)

Coworker #1: “Oh, [My Name] is here! She is good at this stuff!”

Me: “What is the issue?”

Coworker #1: “So, the customer bought three things of meat. It is on sale saying that if you buy them, one will be $1.99 per pound, and the rest $2.99. It took off for the $1.99 but not the $2.99.”

(I grab a calculator and walk over to the customer’s cart. I look at the meat to see how much per pound it is so I can do math. It is already $2.99 per pound.)

Me: “Hey, [Coworker #1], get over here!”

(She comes and I point it out to her.)

Coworker #1: “Haha, oops. This is why you are here!”

Me: “Really, like what do you guys do when I am NOT here?”

Coworker #3: “Pray and hope for the best.”

(I am a member of a guild, and as such I can’t enjoy adult beverages while on duty. After a very long day I’m finally done with my work at around 6:10, and in search of a pint of golden goodness. I walk to the first pub.)

Me: “Can I get a [beer]?”

Wench: “Oh, sorry, I just closed down. The [second pub] should still be open though!”

(I hustle over to the second pub at 6:15.)

Me: “Are you still open?”

Wench: “Just cleaning up, sorry. The [third pub] might still have their taps up!”

(I run to the third pub at 6:20.)

Me: “You guys closed?”

Wench: “Yeah, but the [fourth pub] is closest to front gate, so they’re open the latest.”

Me: “Thanks!”

(I sprint to the fourth pub at 6:25, where the barmaid is leaning on the tip box, watching a street show.)

Wench: “What can I get for you?”

Me: “You’re my favorite! I’ll have a [beer].”

Wench: “Oh, sorry. Only soda left.”

Me: “Oh.”

Wench: “Yeah, we can’t serve alcohol after 6:15.”

Me: “I came from the other side of the faire, and every pub I went to said the next along [road] should be open.”

Wench: “Yeah, they say that so you’ll leave quicker.”

Me: “It worked. I’ll have a [soda] please.”

(The kicker? If I had taken a different path, I could have been from the first pub to the fourth within three minutes.)

(I’m walking through the mall by myself. As I am extremely shy, I walk with my head down to avoid making eye contact with the vendors standing in the walking area trying to sell various lotions, shirts, etc. Unfortunately one vendor, a young man most likely in his early twenties, happens to be very persistent with trying to get sales and actually grabs my arm.)

Seller: “Hello, miss! Would you like to learn about an amazing hair straightener?”

Me: “Um, no, thanks.”

Seller: *trying to pull me closer to his stand* “Oh, you’ll love this straightener! It works like magic!”

(I am really uncomfortable with this, but I don’t want to be rude and just walk away. I pull myself free from his grasp and sort of back away, but he is really persistent.)

Seller: “Do you want to be beautiful?”

Me: “No.”

Seller: “Do you want to be in love?”

Me: “No.”

Seller: “Have you ever been in love?”

Me: “No.”

Seller: “Not yet?”

Me: “What does this even have to do with the straighteners?”

Seller: “This straightener will make you gorgeous! All the boys will just love your hair and I’m absolutely 100% positive you’ll find the man of your dreams. All you have to do is buy this straightener and you’ll fall in love. It’s a guarantee.”

Me: “Uh… no, thanks.”

Seller: “Don’t you want to be in love?”

Me: “Not if I have to buy a straightener.”

(The seller was left speechless and just stared at me for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say after that. I used that silence to turn around and hurry away before he had a chance to start talking again.)

When my friends and I got our driver’s licenses, we were very cautious drivers in our neighborhood. There were lots of kids playing, and they were always running in and out of the street, so we were overly cautious and drove slow.

Posted sporadically throughout the neighborhood were speed limit signs of 25 mph. My friends and I usually went maybe 20 mph because we’d had a couple of kids pop out in the street right in front of us a few times, as a ball would go bouncing into the street and a kid would just run right out after it. We didn’t have any accidents, but a pizza delivery driver did; a kid ran out from behind a parked car chasing a ball and the kid got hit and almost died. My friends and I didn’t want to be in that situation, so we always went slower in the neighborhood.

Most adults, on the other hand, would drive through the neighborhood going 30 mph or more, not stopping fully at stop signs, and not slowing down when kids were outside playing. Cops used to park down the road from some of the four-way-stop intersections, and they’d constantly get adults pulled over for not stopping. It was sad, but also funny because my friend’s mom got a ticket for rolling through the stop signs.

A few doors down from my house, there was an older man (probably around sixty or so) who would yell at the teenagers as they drove by. He would tell us we were driving too fast and we needed to slow down. It was a constant thing. He’d walk to the edge of his yard, waving his cane and yelling at kids to drive slower, but when an adult went speeding down the street, he never caused a scene with them. It may be possible that he thought some of the kids were driving fast because a couple of friends of mine had aftermarket exhaust and headers on their cars and they were overly loud. Maybe the old man mistook the loud cars for going fast even when they weren’t?

I grew tired of his tirades one day and I barked at him. My friend was in the front passenger seat and I had just backed out of my driveway. The old man’s house was three doors down, on the opposite side of the road that I lived on. My car was nothing special, and even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could get my car past 30 mph in that short of a distance. But, as I was doing maybe 10 mph when I started to approach his house, here came the old man, hobbling across his yard, waving his cane, and yelling at us.

Old Man: “Slow down! You’re going too fast! You kids always drive too fast! SLOW DOWN!”

Having a manual, I just put the car in neutral, opened my door, and stepped out of the car. I looked the old guy in the eyes as I started to push my car…

Me: “Is this better? Should I just get out and push my f****** car? Would this make you happy? How about you shut the f*** up and yell at the parents that tear a** through the streets and not the kids that actually drive slow?”

The old man didn’t say anything back. He just hobbled back to his porch and never yelled at us again. I guess the old man was too chicken to yell at adults and he must have felt like a bigshot yelling at teenagers.