(I’m the customer in this story. My mom usually adds certain restaurants to her speed dial for convenience. On this specific occasion we have just gotten home from a long road trip.)

Employee: “Hello, [Pizza Place], Name please?”

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name], and I’d like a medium pepperoni pizza, please, for pick-up.”

Employee: “Okay, Miss [My Name], it’ll be ready in about 15 minutes.”

(Fifteen minutes later, I drive to the nearest known location, only to be told that they don’t have my order or my phone number in their records. I check the number again.)

Me: “Hey, Mom. The number they provide and the one in your speed dial don’t match up.”

Mom: “Oh. Try calling them back maybe?”

Me: *already on phone with the place I had called* “Hello, it’s [My Name] again. Um, I have a stupid question. Where are you located?”

Employee: *sounding bemused* “We are located in [city about seven hours away].”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “I am so sorry, could you please cancel my order? I’m afraid I won’t be able to pick it up in time.”

Employee: “Sure thing, miss.”

Me: “Thank you, and have a wonderful day, sir.”

(After hanging up, I relay the story to my mom and we both have a giggle over it and how we’d have to drive a good seven hours for pizza. I then call the correct number.)

Me: “Hello, my name is [My Name]; are you located at [nearby street]?”

Employee: “Ma’am, you were here just five minutes ago.”

(I place my order, while containing my giggles, and go over to pick up my pizza. Out of embarrassment, I relay the story to the clerk in order to clear up the earlier confusion before paying for the pizza.)

Employee: “Well, that would’ve been one heck of a drive!”

(One of my best friends has always been very grounded and calm. Outwardly, she’s not really affectionate or sentimental at all, but she’s just the kind of person who prefers actions over words, and is in fact a total den mom.)

Me: “Hey, you remember my coworker I told you about?”

Best Friend: “The one you only mention everyday? The one who must have been your twin in another lifetime? Nope, I’m drawing a blank.”

Me: “I know you guys will love her! Can we set up a movie day? I really want everyone to meet her.”

Best Friend: “I’m surprised we haven’t already.”

(My coworker is glad to hang out with us, but understandably self-conscious about being the new girl in a group who’ve all known each other for years. [Best Friend] is welcoming, but so laid back all the time that our new friend is nervous she might not care much for her, despite my reassurances. Fast forward a few weeks: We’ve all planned to go to the beach together, but we get a text from [New Friend] that morning.)

New Friend: “Hey, can’t come today. My dad had a stroke and died last night.”

(We all start flooding her with texts and calls to make sure she’s okay, but she doesn’t want to talk or see anyone. The only text [Best Friend] sends after a short time is:)

Best Friend: “I’m out, too.”

(It took days for us to find out that a couple hours later, [Best Friend] showed up at her apartment with a huge care package of groceries, tissue boxes, and items for [New Friend’s] puppy. When [New Friend] broke down, she stayed, let [New Friend] cry herself to sleep on her, walked the puppy, and started a big crock pot of stew that would last a few days so [New Friend] wouldn’t have to worry about “trivial and mundane” things (in [Best Friend’s] words) like food while she was mourning. [Best Friend] didn’t think to mention any of this to us until [New Friend] herself brought it up, and it cemented [New Friend’s] place in the group. She never again doubted how much [Best Friend] cared, we’ve all been friends since, and we no longer let [Best Friend] do things like that on her own without letting us pitch in.)

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(For Thanksgiving, my family rents a cabin in the woods called “Glass House.” A few people are playing Settlers of Catan after dinner. The game has stacks of cards for different supplies — wheat, wood, stone, sheep, etc. I am holding a stack of stone cards when I drop them on the floor.)

Me: “Whoops.”

Cousin: “[My Name] just dropped 1000 pounds of stone through the floor.”

Me: “So, I guess people in Glass Houses do throw stones.”

Cousin: “Get out of this house.”

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(My friends and I are at [Amusement Park]. We stop at a shop that sells sweatshirts so my friend can buy one. We have gotten some of the currency that [Amusement Park] produces; we have $20 dollar bills with popular cartoon characters on the backs.)

Friend: *going up to the counter to pay for the sweatshirt* “Do you guys take [Park Currency]?”

Employee #1: “Yes, we do!”

(While the first employee is behind the counter, a second employee comes up next to my friend and takes the money out of my friend’s hand and holds it up for all to see.)

Employee #2: “Look! Real Money!”

Friend: *confused* “Uh…”

Employee #2: *pulls his pant leg tight so we can see the outline of his knee brace* “Don’t worry; I can’t run away with it, anyway. I probably can’t even run to the end of this counter!” *gives back the money*

(My friend and I had a good laugh with him and all employees at that store. They were great! The store was pretty empty, so we stayed and chatted awhile while browsing.)

(Since our grocery store is undergoing a remodel, the bosses decide to ship the members of my department to another store to learn all the new stations and recipes we will need. This results in three of us — a female coworker, a male coworker, and me — having to drive an hour and a half to the other store and back via two rural highways for five days straight. My female coworker has never driven in her 30+ years and is an interesting passenger at best. She’s also not the brightest bulb. Being the driver and having to leave well before sunup, I’ve seen plenty of road-kill during our trip, though it was mostly smaller critters — rabbits, coyotes — but on the third day, we encounter a bloody mess that would do any horror movie proud. Best guess is that an 18-wheeler hit a deer because there is blood and matter spattered across both lanes of the highway, with brown furred chunks big enough they actually cause a speed bump effect on my little car. My female coworker happens to be in the passenger’s seat and gets a high-beam-lit view of the carnage before it passes under the car and I exclaim.)

Me: “What a mess!”

Coworker: “Was that a pizza?”

Me: “What?! No! That was a deer or something!”

Coworker: “Oh! I thought it was a pizza that fell out the back of a truck.”

(According to my male coworker the ignorance of this statement was enough to wake him up, and we spent the rest of the week asking if any random mess was pizza.)