(I book my movie ticket in advance. On the day of the movie my grandparents pay us a surprise visit, and Grandma wants to watch with me. We can’t sit together as a result, and she is stuck in a back corner while I am in the dead center. At the end of the movie, I try looking back, but I can’t see her, so I decide to wait until people clear out and just join her when she walks down. After half the theater has emptied, I figure I have missed her and follow everyone out. I look all around the large sidewalk and don’t see her, nor did she come out when the last person left. I frantically go around to the theater’s entrance, worried, because I’m not sure Grandma remembers how to walk home and she doesn’t have a mobile. Whew, there is Grandma sitting in the waiting area!)

Me: “Hey, I missed you in that crowd.”

Grandma: “Where were you?! I didn’t see you! I waited for a long time, and then I came and sat here.”

Me: “Where were you waiting? On the sidewalk?”

Grandma: “No, by the entrance!”

Me: “Entrance?”

Grandma: “Yes! The door we came in.”

Me: “You exited through the entrance! You were supposed to follow everyone out the front.”

Grandma: “It was too crowded, so I just sneaked out the entrance.”

(It turns out my grandparents usually get tickets near the back and sneak out through the entrances, and that they have managed to sneak into other movies several times without getting caught. After we got home and I mention this…)

Dad: “Mom! You’re still doing that?”

Me: “You knew?”

Dad: “Yes, always going out the back. They tried to sneak me into another movie once but I called them out for it!”

Grandpa: “It would have been a free movie!”

Me: “Dad, didn’t you think to warn me grandma might do that?”

Dad: “She’s a little old lady now?”

(At least I’m glad Grandma didn’t go into another movie this time, or I wouldn’t have found her…)

(Both my parents are doctors, which means that they have very little patience with any of their children’s health problems. The rule growing up was, “If you can complain about it, you can go to school!” At age 12, I have a terrible skateboard accident and walk into our home with blood pouring out of a massive gash in my head, and several broken ribs. I gasp to my parents:)

Me: “Guys, it hurts when I breathe.”

(My father looks up from his book.)

Father: “Then don’t.” *goes back to reading*

Mother: *screaming* “And stop bleeding on the floor; I just mopped it!”

(I went next door and our neighbours took me to the emergency room, where I spent the night. My parents didn’t even notice I was gone, and gave me grief for missing school.)

(During middle school, I have a science teacher who seems to have some kind of “little man syndrome.” I am already six feet tall in seventh grade, while he is no more than 5’5″, so he targets me. We are doing an in-class assignment. I whisper to my partner, asking a question on the assignment.)

Teacher: “[My Name]! No talking!”

Me: *looks at group of girls loudly discussing their crushes, not focused on the assignment* “What about them?”

Teacher: “Do you want to be sent to the office?”

(I then begin to notice that I am the only student receiving this behavior, regardless of the fact that I’ve never had a problem before, and that I have a 100% in the class. Later in the year he decides to show a movie to the class that relates to genetics. I’ve seen the movie before and I don’t care much for it, and there’s no in-class work or homework assignment related to the movie, so I ask the teacher…)

Me: “Mr. [Teacher], may I go to the library to work on other class work?”

Teacher: “No, you have to stay and watch the movie.”

(Not wanting to argue, I bring a book and some homework to work on. During the movie, I notice other students reading, working on homework, or sleeping, so I do the same.)

Teacher: “[My Name]! Pay attention to the movie!”

(I pay attention for a minute, but begin to work on homework and read.)

Teacher: *comes up from behind and rips the book from my hands, gathering all of my belongings* “You need to pay attention to the movie! Stop being a nuisance!”

Me: “Everyone else is doing something; why aren’t you telling them the same?”

Teacher: “THAT DOES IT! GO TO THE OFFICE NOW, YOU BRAT!”

(I head to the principal in tears and wait for him to see me. After talking on the phone to the teacher, who claimed I was misbehaving and being a nuisance, the principal asks me to tell my side. I tell him everything, through sobs and anger. He tells me that he will call my mother and tell her everything, and that if the teacher does anything else, I am to go see the principal immediately. The next day I am walking to class with my items in hand. The teacher sees me and quickly walks over, then takes everything out of my hands with a smug grin.)

Teacher: “You can have all of this after my class.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I went straight to the principal and told him what happened. He angrily called in the teacher. Five minutes later, my very angry mother came in and went into the principal’s office. Although mostly muffled, I heard the most anger-filled shouts from both my mother and the principal about the teacher’s behavior towards me. When they asked why he was treating me this way, he claimed that he does this to all of his students. Unbeknownst to him, the principal had interviewed many students and teachers who know this teacher, and they claimed that I was the only one receiving this behavior. After the meeting, the teacher went back to his class, white as a ghost. I was moved to a teacher who treated me equally to their other students and I was never bothered again. But seriously, where are you in life where you have to bully a middle school student to feel empowered?)

(For those that don’t know, head shops sell products for “tobacco use only,” but are generally used for weed. This interaction starts with a man coming in my store, requesting that I “don’t judge him,” and telling me that the woman who is about to walk in is “crazy.” I oblige and say no judgments.)

Me: “Hey, how’s it going? Anything I can help you find today?”

Woman: “Yes, I’m looking for straight glass pipes.”

Me: “We sell glass blunts; every other glass item is either flared or a standard pipe.”

Woman: “No, like I’m looking for a pipe, like for crack cocaine.”

Me: *standing awkwardly* “Ma’am, we don’t sell those here.”

Woman: “YES, YOU DO; THEY’RE RIGHT THERE!”

Me: “Ma’am, those are downstems, for water-pipes, and they are flared at the end, not straight.”

Woman: “Well, I need something like this.” *pulls out used and broken crack pipe*

Me: *wide-eyed and staring* “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave…”

(She returned ten minutes later, and another two times after that in the span of an hour, each time with more money falling out of her bra, and purchasing increasingly random combinations of items each time. No other mention or sight of illegal substances or devices.)

(My daughter and son are young, and we live in a house that has two very damp bedrooms. I find it best to put both kids in the third bedroom that doesn’t have a damp problem, as I am worried for their health; my eldest has asthma and the youngest has allergies. Some friends and I are discussing our houses. I mention the damp problem and what I have to do to stop the kids from getting sick.)

Friend: “You have a boy and girl sharing a room; that’s disgusting.”

Me: “What?”

Friend: “A boy and girl in the same room; it’s unnatural.”

Me: “What do you mean, ‘unnatural’?”

Friend: “What if they do something?”

Me: “Do what?”

Friend: “You know, do unnatural things together; it’s a temptation for them.”

Other Friend: “What the f***? They are three and six years old; what are they going to do?”

Friend: “It’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Me: “I don’t think so. I’m trying to keep both kids healthy until our lease is up and we can move.”

Friend: “It’s not right.”

(And with that, she walked off and never spoke to me again. Didn’t miss her one bit.)