(I’m helping a family with several young children. One of them seems very interested in our armless mannequins.)
Boy: “How do you guys make those?”
(Before I can say anything, the mother speaks up.)
Mom: “If they catch you stealing, they take you into a back room, cut off your arms, and then pour gunk all over you and let you dry! And when it’s done they bring you out front and put you display, like those guys!”
(I am making a call to a customer service line.)
Employee #1: “Hello, thank you for calling [Company]. How can I help you today?”
Me: “Yes, I just bought the collector’s edition of [Game] for the Playstation 4, and it does not have the DLC codes included.”
Employee #1: “Yes, we are aware that there was an error with the packaging. You should receive your downloadable content code to the email inbox that you used to preorder the game.”
Me: “But I didn’t preorder it.”
Employee #1: *pause* “Then how did you get it?”
Me: “I bought it at a local retail store.”
Employee #1: “Really?”
Me: “Yeah, why?”
Employee #1: “That collector’s edition has been sold out for months. How could you have found one at a retail store?”
Me: “Well, I live in Alaska, so there isn’t always as much competition.”
Employee #1: “Okay. What I need you to do is take a picture of the game and the receipt and email it to us at [address], then call back and ask for me. My name is [Employee #1].”
Me: “Okay.”
(I do as she asks and call back.)
Employee #2: “Hello, thank you for calling [Company]. How can I help you today?”
Me: Hi, I just spoke with [Employee #1] about [Game].”
Employee #2: “Oh! You’re the guy from Alaska! We’ve all been talking about how you are! Have you tried playing the lottery today, as well?”
(I am six. My sister is nine and bossy. My mother works for her friend, who has two boys our age. We play together in their huge backyard.)
Sister: “Let’s play ‘Grownups’!”
Me: “How do you play it?”
Sister: “We pair up and have a double wedding.”
(We have a pretend wedding with the boys. Then, I notice my sister smiling at me funny.)
Me: “What?”
Sister: “You have to kiss him.”
Me: “No way! Ew!”
Sister: “You have to; he’s your husband!”
Me: “You and [Other Boy] didn’t!”
Sister: “We did; you weren’t looking.”
Me: “Yuck.”
(Somehow she was able to convince me to kiss my friend. It was just a peck, but it felt weird and nasty. I couldn’t understand why adults did it. She laughed and laughed. Much later, I realized that she had lied, and I still haven’t forgiven her for tricking me into using up my first kiss!)
When I was 16 years old, I worked in a children’s museum where I was in charge of the aquarium section. We had a “touch tank” where people could feel sea life. Because the animals are delicate, we had a strict policy that people could only touch animals I had put on trays at the edge of the tanks. Despite this policy, (and numerous prominent signs stating the policy) people would routinely stick their hands in the parts of the tank that were off limits.
One day, a woman came in and proceeded to repeatedly stick her hands into the tank, despite my requests. Finally, I forcefully said, “Ma’am, please don’t stick your hands into that part of the tank, as it distresses the animals.” She pulled her hands out, flicked water in my face, said, “You just need to chill,” and stomped off, cursing about “little s***s who think they know everything.”
So I’m in a convenience store perusing the aisles when a couple middle-aged blonde women walk down the aisle I’m on. I’m pretty sure they were tipsy, and there were talking really loudly in thick southern accents… but I was in a good mood and they were all smiles and giggles, so I couldn’t bring myself to be annoyed. I saw them staring at coffee brands before I walked to the next aisle over, and could hear them on the other side of the aisle trying to sort out what coffee brand they should buy.
Lady #1: *after a couple minutes of loudly discussing it with her friend* “We should call someone over here to help, I can’t decide.”
Me: *snickers to myself as her friend starts bellowing*
Lady #2: “Blondes in aisle 12 need service! Blondes in aisle twelve need service, over!”
Me: *from opposite the rack on the adjacent aisle in my best official mock-intercom voice* “Customer service suggests that the blondes on aisle 12 chose the Folgers, over.”
They burst into laughter asking one another who the heck had said that, meanwhile I walk down the aisle with a grin on my face, and on of the employees tells me that they ought to hire me for costumer service. Made my day, and the women’s day, too.
