Back in January of this year, I went on a date with a guy I had met on a popular dating app — the one where the girl has to make the first move. 

We met up for dinner and drinks and things were going very well! He was nice and funny and I was enjoying his company. He was an EMT; this is important later in the story. 

After dinner, he suggested we go to an ice rink to go ice skating. I was skeptical, as I’m a very clumsy person and can barely stand up on my own two feet on solid ground, and I knew I was going to thoroughly embarrass myself at the rink. But I said yes anyway. 

For the first hour, things went well. We were both hobbling along the side of the wall and making fun of each other’s form, but I got cocky, pushed away from the wall, and ate it. I landed on my butt and tried to catch myself with my arm. I landed so hard my ears were ringing and I was woozy. 

My date had to help me off the ice and he immediately went into EMT mode, rolling up my sleeve and feeling around my arm to see if he could feel any breaks. 

Besides the numbness in my arm, we both agreed that it probably wasn’t broken, and I turned down his offer to take me to the emergency room. 

We spent the next six hours on a cliff overlooking the beach, with me flinching at the slightest touch to my arm.

When I woke up the next day, I was in tears. My entire arm was black and blue and swollen beyond belief; I couldn’t even put a shirt on without crying out in pain. I had to have my brother take me to Urgent Care. 

While at Urgent Care, the doctor on call told me that not only was my elbow broken, but that I had fractured my wrist, as well, when I tried to stop myself from falling. The impact of me landing on my wrist fractured it and broke my elbow almost immediately, but the massive swelling that immediately took place is what made my date unable to tell that my arm was broken. 

There was so much fluid in my arm that it felt like a normal arm. 

I was immediately taken off work for the next four months, as I am a barista while finishing school, and I teased my date about my arm all the time. We dated for a month but decided we were better off as friends.

We’re still friends to this day, and I still give him crap about my elbow.

It still hurts when the weather gets cold, too, even after having it out of a sling for six weeks.

I walk into a fast-food restaurant. There are two cashiers at the registers, a big open space on this side, and then two ladies, both standing well back from the counter over by the pick-up area. I head up to one of the open registers. As I approach, one of the ladies suddenly calls out.

Lady: “We were here first!”

I glance over and then just nod.

Me: “Okay.”

I then turn back and finish walking up to the register.

Worker: “Hi. What can I get for you?”

Me: “I’d like to get—”

A hand clamps down on my shoulder and tries to turn me around.

Lady: “You aren’t—”

Without looking at her, I slap her hand off my shoulder, hard. She shrieks and takes a few steps back, before she starts to shout.

Lady: “YOU HIT ME! HE HIT ME!”

The cashier in front of me looks rather uncomfortable, while the other cashier just looks annoyed.

Me: “I’d like [combo].”

The cashier types it in and takes my money, all while this lady is still standing there, screeching, “HE HIT ME!” I get my receipt, go fill up my cup, and then go back up when my order is called to see the lady still standing there yelling, at a manager now, while the other lady hasn’t moved from where they were originally standing.

Lady: “HE’S THE ONE! HE HIT ME! KICK HIM OUT!”

The manager didn’t do anything as I collected my food. I went to sit down and eat it. I didn’t hurry, but I didn’t take too long, either. When I finished, the lady was still there shouting at an entirely different worker as I walked out the door.

I work at a store that sells scented oils. A customer and her friend approach the counter.

Customer: “I’d like to smell your musk, please!”

Me: “Certainly!”

I laugh as I grab the bottles of oil.

Customer: “I bet this is the only store where you can say that and not get kicked out for being creepy!”

The customer and her friend both laughed.

The store I work in sells only clothing, jewelry, etc. — no sporting goods or hardware or the like. I am standing by the women’s athletic department.

Customer: “Excuse me; I think you’ve rearranged the store. Where are your sporting goods?”

Me: “Um, excuse me?”

Customer: “You know, like, running shorts and stuff?”

Me: “Oh, are you looking for men’s or women’s athletics?”

The customer gives me a blank stare.

Me: “Our women’s athletics are right here.”

I point right next to where we are standing.

Me: “And our men’s ath—”

Customer: “Are you sure these are women’s sporting goods?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, these are the only women’s athletics in the store.”

Customer: “I still think you’ve rearranged; this doesn’t look right.”

She wandered off, looking confused.

Customer: “I’m from Oregon, so I don’t pay sales tax.”

Me: *Confused* “Um, what?”

Customer: “I’m from Oregon, so I don’t have to pay sales tax.”

Me: “Well, you are in California right now and we pay sales tax, so you have to, as well.”

Customer: “Isn’t there any way you can take it off?”

Me: “Ha! No, you can’t get out of paying tax.”

Customer: “What the f***?! This state is f****** ridiculous!”