My parents are visiting and my mother has offered to go with me to the grocery store. My husband has written out the list and one of the items is “baking sheet”. I go to the kitchenware aisle and pick up, well, a baking sheet: a flat metal pan with raised edges.

Mom: “That’s not on the list.”

Me: “Yes, it is. See? ‘Baking sheet.’”

Mom: “Well, clearly, that’s not what [Husband] meant.”

Me: “But it is.”

Mom: “Why would he tell you to buy a cookie sheet?”

Me: “Because we need one?”

Mom: “He must have meant something else.”

Me: “What else could he have meant?”

Mom: “I’m sure he means parchment paper.”

Me: “Then why didn’t he write parchment paper on the list?”

Mom: “You know how men are; they forget what things are called all the time and then they get grumpy when you bring home the wrong thing. Your father does it constantly.”

Me: “Dad might, but [Husband] doesn’t. And I’m buying a baking sheet because I had an unfortunate encounter with the barbecue last week and wrecked our only one, which is why [Husband] put it on the list.”

Mom: “You should still buy some parchment paper just in case.”

I did not buy parchment paper, and my husband was pleased to have a replacement for the charred remains of our last baking sheet.

I approach a table of six in their early twenties. After greeting them, I take drink orders.

Customer #1: “Can I get a Coke?”

Me: “Is Pepsi okay?”

Customer #1: “Sure.”

Me: *To [Customer #2]* “And for you?”

Customer #2: “Can I get a Coke?”

Me: “Is Pepsi okay?”

Customer #2: “Sure.”

Me: *To [Customer #3]* “And for you?”

Customer #3: “Can I get a Coke?”

Me: *Sighs* “Sure.”

Later, I drop off refills.

Me: “And here’s a refill on your Pepsi.”

Customer #3: “It was a Coke.”

I reply over my shoulder as I’m walking away.

Me: “No, it wasn’t.”

Related:
Pepsi Vs Coke: The Great War Of Our Time

When I was in middle school, cell phones weren’t yet common, and nobody my age had one yet. I ate lunch near the one payphone in my school.

One lunchtime, there was a guy asking everyone if they had a quarter he could borrow since he needed to call his parents for whatever reason. I always had a few, due to missing the bus semi-regularly, so I gave him one. He thanked me, promised to pay me back, and then walked away, and I promptly forgot all about it.

I’m not sure how many days or weeks later it was when I was surprised at lunch by this random guy coming up to me and handing me a quarter!

It seems like such a small thing, but just the fact that he remembered me and paid me back, when he really didn’t have to, meant enough for me to still remember it clearly to this day.

I’m a man and have two roommates, both also men. One of my roommates buys a huge jar of sauerkraut but can’t get it open. It sits in our kitchen for a while until my sister comes over.

Sister: “What’s with the jar?”

Roommate #1: “I’ve been trying to open it, but no matter how hard I try, it stays stuck.”

Sister: “Oh, is that all? Here’s what you do.”

She takes the jar, bangs the lid against the counter, and easily unscrews the lid.

A couple of weeks later, my girlfriend is over and we’re cooking dinner. 

Me: “I wish the cover for this knife fit it better.”

The blade of the knife meets the handle at a forty-five-degree angle, and the cover is all right angles, leaving a small piece of the blade exposed.

My girlfriend takes a pair of scissors and cuts a piece off diagonally so the knife fits completely inside the cover. 

A few weeks after that, my roommates and I are having trouble with our front door sticking as we go in and out. We try a number of things but none of them help. 

Roommate #2: “You guys know what we have to do here. Obviously, the solution is to invite over a competent woman and have her solve the issue in two seconds.”

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Years ago, I used to make a regular run between two cities for the company I worked for. Frequently, I picked up hitchhikers. 

Hitchhiker: “Where are you headed?”

Me: “[City].”

Hitchhiker: “Great! The [Bus Company] driver knows me and he was being an a**hole and stranded me here. When do you expect to get to [City]?”

Me: “[Time].”

Hitchhiker: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Oh, yeah. I know my route pretty well.”

Hitchhiker: *Laughing* “We’ll beat the bus back. I’ll go talk to the station master when we arrive and I’ll tell him what the jerk did. The proof will be my luggage on the bus.”

I used to drive like a bat out of h***, so I beat the bus by about an hour. My return trip was 225 miles and we passed the bus on the highway before reaching the town. I don’t know how it turned out, as I dropped him off at the depot when we got in.