My spouse, son, and I have flown from the east coast to attend an extended family gathering. The day of the gathering is big and energetic, and we all have fun catching up with each other.

Around eight pm, my son comes to me and asks if he can go back to our hotel room, and since he looks tired and I saw him talking and playing with the others all day, I let him. I inform my spouse that I am taking our son back and I think nothing more of it.

My dad thinks otherwise, however, and comes to me the next day.

Dad: “Where were you and [Son] yesterday? I only saw [Spouse] at the gathering.”

Me: “We were there. I was talking with our relatives and [Son] was playing with his cousins.”

Dad: “You sure? I tried looking for you at ten and you were nowhere to be found.”

Me: “Oh, we were in our room by then. I think he came to me around eight and asked if he could go back, so I went with him.”

Dad: “Why didn’t you stay longer? You know we only see everyone else every few years, right?”

Me: “Yes, but [Son] was tired. He was playing and talking a lot yesterday and was clearly at his limit.”

Dad: “He’s too young to be saying he’s too tired! You should have made him stay until everyone else was done!”

Me: “Yeah, but [Spouse] didn’t return until midnight. I really don’t think [Son] would have made it until then.”

Dad: “[Son] is going to be lazy if you keep coddling him like this!”

My dad walked away after that. The funny thing is that I’ve been very attentive to my son’s desire to stay at gatherings as my parents always stayed long after everyone else left and my siblings and I were beyond tired and irritated while our parents chatted. I just don’t want my son to become discouraged from going to social gatherings like I was for a while.

I’m one of the groomsmen in my buddy’s wedding this weekend, and today I went to pick up my tuxedo from the rental store. There were no issues, everything fit perfectly, and I had already paid in full during the initial fitting a month ago. I’ve got a somewhat unusual body shape; I’m six feet tall, but most of my height is my torso. During the fitting, I had the same pant length as one of the other groomsmen, who is significantly shorter than me.

A half-hour later, the best man texts me to remind me to pick up my tux. I tell him that I already did, and he says that he is at the store and was told I haven’t been in to pick it up yet. Confused, I call the store.

Employee: “Hello, this is [Rental Store]; how can I help you?”

Me: “Hey, I was just in and picked up my tux. It was under [My Name]. But my buddy [Best Man] was told I haven’t picked it up yet, and I just wanted to make sure everything was kosher.”

Employee: “Someone else got your tuxedo?”

Me: “No, I got my tuxedo, but I guess someone told him I hadn’t?”

Employee: “So you got someone else’s tuxedo?”

Me: “No, it’s mine. It fits fine, and the colors are right. I doubt it’d fit anyone else, anyway.”

Employee: “So… what did you want me to do?”

Me: *Pause* “I’ve just realized how pointless this call is.”

The employee had a good laugh, I apologized profusely, and now I can never rent a suit from that store again without feeling profoundly embarrassed.

The summer before my first year of college and between fall and spring semesters, I work at a movie theater to help pay for school. I’m a computer engineering major, one of three women in the whole school for that major. I also look much younger than my age.

A customer orders his popcorn and soda.

Me: “That’s $10.47.”

The man hands me eleven one-dollar bills. Because it’s policy, I count them out where he can see.

Customer: “Look, honey, the minimum-wage girl can count to eleven. Aren’t you proud?”

I give him his total before pressing “calculate” on the register.

Me: “Your change is fifty-three cents. Enjoy your movie.”

The money from that day likely went towards my Calculus 3 textbook. The next summer, I got an internship at a software development company and thankfully left the movies behind.

I overhear this at a coffee shop.

Customer: “This quiche has egg in it, right?”

Barista: *Pause* “Yes. Quiches are mostly made of egg, actually.”

Customer: “But it says, ‘Vegetarian’!”

I go into a fast food restaurant in an upper-middle-class neighborhood.

Me: “Hi, can I have a plain quesadilla, please?”

Cashier: “Sure.”

She proceeds to write down “K” on a slip of paper, and she hands it to someone behind her.

Me: *Confused* “Sorry, but why did you sign it with a K rather than a Q?”

Cashier: *Snarkily* “Actually, it’s K for ‘kids’ meal,’ since that version is cheaper. But next time, I’ll be sure to write a Q on it so they’ll charge you $8 for two ounces of cheese and a tortilla.”

Me: “There’s no need to be like that.”

Cashier: “Well, since you haven’t paid, if you want to go somewhere else, the door’s right over there.”

I gladly walked out.