Our city has what’s called a “river valley,” which is basically a network of paths either in close proximity to or right along the major river that runs throughout the entire city. It’s a great place to go for a walk, birdwatch, go for a photoshoot, or exercise, because no matter where you live, you don’t have to go far to get away in nature. Some spots are pretty secluded, so you don’t even hear any city or traffic noise.

A few years ago, I was out for a run on one of the many paths and I approached a group of people. A couple of them were carrying a very large black bag with something obviously somewhat heavy inside of it… and it looked like a body bag! As I passed them and glanced behind me, the people carrying the bag were wearing balaclava masks! I thought for sure it was for some film production or something, and I kept glancing at the group to see if I could see cameras or anything. I didn’t, and I carried on with my run, somewhat panicked.

After I turned around and headed back — there was only one way back to where I needed to go — I saw the group again just further up from where I’d first seen them. This time, I could easily see a camera set up on a tripod, and it was clear that the group was working on filming something. I kind of laughed and waved as I passed them, but they all just laughed and laughed at me!

I get how it may have been somewhat amusing to them, but for a 25-year-old female in the middle of a run unable to see the context of the situation at first, it was definitely a bit unnerving.

(My husband has gone to the kitchen to cook dinner and has just gotten all the pans down and ingredients set out when the door opens. It is the exterminator.)

Husband: “Hi. What are you doing here?”

Exterminator: “The landlady paid me to come out and spray for bugs today.”

Husband: “Oh… at dinner time?”

Exterminator: “Yeah, I got busy.”

Me: *when the story was told to me* “Oh, good. The landlady didn’t pay him to poison our dinner; that was an optional service.”

(I am working with a customer over the phone and she gives me a discount code to use on her order. She is speaking both quietly and very fast when she reads it off, so I try to confirm the code with her.)

Me: “Was the first letter in that code T as in ‘tango’?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: *speaking a little louder on the assumption she couldn’t hear me very well, although there is no background noise coming through* “Was the first letter T as in ‘tango’?

Customer: “What? I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

Me: “The first letter of your code. Was it T as in ‘Thomas’?”

Customer: “Oh, yes, T as in ‘Thomas.’”

(I confirm the rest of the code, but it does not work.)

Me: “I’m sorry, that code isn’t working. Do you still have the email with the code?”

Customer: “Yes, it’s right in front of me. Let me read it to you again. P as in ‘Peter’…” *continues with the rest of the code, which matches what she gave previously*

(The corrected code worked, but I wondered for the rest of the day if she thought Pango and Pomas were actually words. She had absolutely no accent, so it’s not that she wasn’t fluent in English.)

(My father is experiencing severe vertigo, to the point where he can’t even crawl. We are in the ER waiting for his turn at the MRI. My dad is a large man with a beard. A doctor we don’t recognize walks into the room and stops short.)

Doctor: “Um…” *looks at his chart, then at Dad, then at my mom and me* “ Mrs. [Wrong Name]?”

Me: “I think you have the wrong room.”

Doctor: “I think you might be right; none of you look like you’re in labor right now.”

(We all laugh with him over his mistake and he leaves. Dad gets his MRI and is wheeled back in while we wait for the results. The same doctor comes in again.)

Doctor: “Let’s try this again, Mr. [Different Wrong Name]?”

Mom: “Nope.”

Doctor: “Nail through the foot?”

Me: “Wrong room again.”

Doctor: “D*** it. How…?”

(He checks the chart in his hands, then runs out and checks the room number.)

Doctor: “Somebody put the wrong room on the chart.”

(He runs off to find his patient. A while later, the ER doctors have run all the tests they can on Dad and still can’t find a cause. They’ve tentatively diagnosed him with a viral infection and have given him instructions for follow-up. Unfortunately, there is a multi-car pile-up and they suddenly get so busy they can’t spare anyone long enough to do the discharge paperwork. We do our best to stay out of the way. The same doctor comes in again, looks at his chart, then face-palms.)

Doctor: “Okay, none of you are a teenage girl with a broken pelvis! What the h***?!”

Mom: “We’re just such fun people that you’re making excuses to come hang out with us!”

Doctor: *laughing* “That must be it! Right!”

(I know he must have been frustrated, but I think he needed the comic relief as much as we did on that stressful night.)

(I’ve got a new doctor and am giving them the rundown on my family history.)

Doctor: “I see on your form that you checked ‘yes’ to all the diseases we have listed. They all run in your family?”

Me: “Yes. I have a very large family and at least one of them has or had at least one of those diseases.”

Doctor: “Even [rare cancer]?”

Me: “Grandma died of it.”

Doctor: “Huh. Who in your family had [disease]?”

Me: “Two of my great aunts on my dad’s side, and my uncle on my mother’s side.”

Doctor: “And your family’s history of cancer… says ‘all’?”

Me: “Doctors never really believe me, but all the cancers you have listed there? Yeah, when I add up my mother’s side of the family and my father’s side, it’s all there.”

Doctor: *open-mouthed shock* “Wow.”

Me: “I get that reaction from doctors a lot.”

(For reference, my grandmother was one of nine kids, my other grandmother was one of eleven, and all of their kids had at least five kids. It’s a big family, and they’ve all had some kind of major medical issue in the past, and most of them work in the medical field. I just tell doctors to check everything when they ask what runs in the family. It saves time.)