(I attend university for a degree in outdoor education. Because of this, a lot of our professors are seen as all-knowing in EVERY aspect of the outdoors, from plants you can eat, to animal tracking, etc. I quickly realize my error in assuming this when we are on a field trip and keep on hearing this distinct bird call.)

Student: “Hey, [Professor], do you know what kind of bird that is?”

Professor: “Well, from the tone and repetition it emits, I would have to say a yellow-chested Robin. This species of bird has a higher pitch than other birds, and is known as the chattiest of all robins.”

Student: “Really?”

Professor: “I have no idea; I don’t know anything about birds.”

(My dad is the mechanics teacher at the high school in our city. I am in his grade-10 class. He always says that his main role as a father is to embarrass his two daughters. My dad is helping another student with their small engine, while I am standing by, waiting for my dad to come and help me.)

Dad: “Here’s your hammer. Why did you need it?”

(The student starts to explain their reasons for needing the hammer but…)

Dad: *cuts them off by yelling* “BECAUSE IT’S HAMMER TIME!” *promptly starts singing and humming an MC Hammer song while dancing along*

(Keep in mind that I am standing right there, although now I am blushing, rolling my eyes, and doing my best to not look embarrassed.)

Dad: *looks over at me while talking to the student* “I feel my role as a father is to embarrass my children.”

Student: “Well, it’s definitely working.”

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(I work at a reception desk on the second floor of a civic centre, and exchanges similar to this one are all too common. A couple walk off the elevator and up to my desk.)

Woman: “Hi, where do we go for marriage licences?”

Me: “That’s up on the third floor, at the City Clerk’s desk.”

Man: “We know it’s on the third floor, where are we now?”

Me: “Well, what button did you press on the elevator?”

Man: “Two…?”

Me: “So… just up one more from here.”

Woman: “How do we get to the third floor?”

(As well as being directly across from the elevator they just left, which goes up to the fifth floor, my desk is actually situated under a large staircase leading to the third. Good luck to whoever had to walk these people through filling out forms.)

(I’m chatting with a coworker about the recent return of the television show, “Agents of SHIELD,” and the newest version of the superhero Ghost Rider. The office car enthusiast hears our discussion, and joins the conversation, mildly offended.)

Car Enthusiast: “Did I hear you say that motorcycles are cooler than muscle cars?”

Me: “No. I said a FLAMING motorcycle being driven by a DEMON with a flaming skull for a head is cooler than a FLAMING muscle car being driven by a DEMON with a flaming skull for a head.”

Car Enthusiast: “Oh.” *backs away slowly*

(I am six, and live in an area where most people live on remote plots of land, some of which are small farms. A couple people I know have goats for milk. One of my friends has two goats on their property, one of which is very aggressive and once knocked the wind out of me while I was helping milk it. One day I’m at their house, and their mom serves me soup. It tastes pretty good, and I’m enjoying it quite a bit, when I look over and see one of my friends pouting with her arms crossed.)

Me: “Why aren’t you eating any?”

Friend: “It’s beef soup.”

Me: “So? Beef is good.”

Friend: “No, not ‘beef,’ Beep! BEEP!”

(Beep was the name of her pet goat, the one that knocked the wind out of me. I looked down at my bowl, thought, “Well, I never liked her anyway,” shrugged, and kept eating. She was delicious.)