I am seventeen, going out with some friends, old and new, for a night at a restaurant. I, unfortunately, get the unexpected visit of my period. I have not brought my purse with me tonight, and I did not plan to have hygiene products in my pockets. I try asking the only other female in the group but she says she has nothing.

I’m too shy to go from table to table and ask strangers around — the bathroom is a single, so it’s not like I can meet someone there and ask discreetly. I try to fix something out of the thin, see-through toilet paper but with poor results. I’m awfully uncomfortable; I can’t wait for this dinner to be over and go home.

Misfortune keeps coming; everyone insists that we go over to the home of one of the guys — a male-only house that won’t have anything to help my problem — and watch a movie. I try to decline but they won’t let me back out.

I’m then dragged with them to the video rental store. I manage to make some weird excuse to let them go choose a movie while I “wait for them outside.”

As soon as the door closes behind them, I make a run to a pharmacy we passed, buy whichever package of hygiene products I can find that will fit in my pants pocket, borrow their “staff-only” bathroom — all my gratitude to the cashier who understood the situation and graciously let me in; you’re a real sister! — and dash back to the video rental store just in time for my friends to come out. We go watch the movie, and the whole time, I’m crossing my fingers that my suddenly overstuffed pockets won’t explode or be too noticeable. 

I kind of forget about this bad evening until sometime later when some of my “older” friends mention the new guys that joined us that night. I haven’t seen them since, but my friends are talking like they have seen them recently, so I ask about them; I’m curious why I was not invited.

It turns out they believed I was not really friendly, like all I wanted was to go away. They said I was either saying strange things to withdraw or looking blank or worried, which they took offense to because it’s not like they were dangerous or about to do anything wrong. They decided that I must be some psycho-loner-paranoid-b****, so they’d rather not see me again. Because, sure, my whole night experience was about those guys. All points of view are required to understand what happened, and you may never know others’; don’t only stick to your side and judge too fast.

(The company’s head office is out of California somewhere, and that is where the call is originating from. I’m in Canada.)

Caller: “Hi. This is [Caller] with [Company]. We noticed your membership with us has been inactive for quite some time. Is there anything I can do to get you to sign up with us again?”

Me: “I was very happy with your program, but the location I was frequenting has closed and now I’m with [Competitor]. Do you have another Ottawa location?”

Caller: “Yes! We have one at [address]!”

Me: “That’s the one that closed.”

Caller: “Oh, really? Well, how about the one in Brampton?”

Me: “That’s almost a five-hour drive from here.”

Caller: “Toronto?”

Me: “Four hours.”

Caller: “Oh… I’m going to butcher the name on this one. Miss… Miss…”

Me: “Mississauga? That’s further than Toronto.”

Caller: “Oh. I guess we don’t have anything near you.”

Me: “I didn’t think so. Thanks for calling, I guess? Let me know if you open an operation in Ottawa again.”

(I work at a popular fast food joint, and I mostly do front orders. My coworker on drive-thru has asked me to take an order on the headset for her, and because I have no orders, I say I will.)

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. What can I get for you?”

Customer #1: “Hi. I’d like a number two combo with a Coke, and that’s everything.” 

Me: “Awesome. Will that be for here or to go?”

(Hearing my own mistake, I quickly correct it by telling the now laughing customers to drive on through. Another car pulls up immediately after, who apparently knew the car ahead.) 

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer #2: “Hi, I’d like a coffee and a muffin. Oh, and I’d like it for here?”

Me: “Woooow.”

Mom: “Help me find something for your sister for Christmas. She’s so hard to shop for; whatever I get her is never quite right.”

Me: “A graphic novel? She likes Brian Vaughn. Or a DVD? There’s some cartoon series she’s into.”

Mom: “No comic books or cartoons; she’s not a child anymore.”

Me: “A bottle of good bourbon?”

Mom: “I’m not giving my daughter liquor for Christmas!”

Me: “Uh… fancy bath stuff from that weird shop she likes?”

Mom: “No, I want to get her something useful.”

Me: “A cookbook? She loves cookbooks.”

Mom: “She has too many cookbooks already.”

Me: “Maybe something else for her kitchen? Her mother-in-law gave her a pasta machine for her birthday and she loved it.”

Mom: “But she doesn’t need those things.”

Me: “A new vacuum cleaner?”

Mom: “What she really needs is nicer clothes to wear to work.”

Me: *internally face-palming* “So… you already knew what you wanted to get her.”

Mom: “But whenever I get her clothes she never really likes them.”

Me: *going from internal face-palming to internal screaming* “So you’re asking me to, what, magically make her like the clothes you pick out?”

Mom: “Just help me find her a present she’ll like!”

(We then went to a department store that I know my sister does not shop at; every time I suggested an item of clothing I thought my sister would conceivably wear, Mom insisted it was not right. She ended up choosing a sweater which wouldn’t fit, and which my sister will end up exchanging for new socks.)

This story is part of our Sisters’ Day roundup!

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(I was assigned female at birth but am experimenting with gender presentation. I am currently trying to tie a tie as part of a formal business outfit. This is taking a while, as I keep messing it up. My mother sees me.)

Mum: “Don’t wear a tie. The older ladies will think you’re wearing a costume.”

Me: “I never thought of it that way. Should I wear a necklace, instead?”

Mum: “That would be perfect.”

(I ended up going to the meeting wearing a very pretty necklace, a chest binder, and a sock packer.)