I do a lot of contract photography for a university. Despite their desperate need for new stock-type photos of current students, they only ever send me to painfully boring alumni events where I take shots of old people standing around eating in poorly lit rooms. It’s also worth noting that they don’t use anyone else for photography besides me.

Client: “Our new magazine is going to print-check in a week, so send me your best action shots of our students. We’re looking for dramatic angles of ethnically diverse groups who are dressed professionally and have confident expressions.”

Me: “Why would you think that I have anything like that just lying around?”

Client: “Oh, and our alumni event is tomorrow, too! Some of our oldest donors will be there. Maybe you’ll get some useful photos there!”

I work for a food delivery app. One Friday afternoon, a request comes in for a delivery at a local college. I get there and see several signs advertising a gay pride event in one of the buildings on that day.

There is a group of people walking back and forth across the crosswalk that serves as the main entrance to the campus, basically making it impossible to get in. I see that they have large posters saying things like, “GAY SEX IS A SIN,” and, “ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND STEVE.” There are also a few posters about the immorality of abortions, which makes me laugh because… well… I would think gay couples are the least likely to need abortions.

I sit there waiting politely, but they just keep going back and forth. I honk a few times, but they only turn their disgusting signs toward my car and continue to circle. There is a line of people behind me now, all honking.

Finally, a police officer arrives and blocks their path on one side so I can get through. One of the protesters decides the best course of action is to throw her drink at my car as I pass. I pull over immediately and get out. 

Me: “What the h*** is wrong with you?”

Protester: “It is our right to protest peacefully. Jesus, our Lord and Savior, will—”

Me: “It’s not peaceful if you’re throwing s***!”

The woman breaks away from the group and comes toward me. The officer reaches for her, but he has his hands full with the other five still screaming about abortions and religion.

Protester: “Child of God, let me lay hands on you and pray so that you may gain the Lord’s wisdom!”

She is less than a foot away when she tries to grab my head. I dodge and pull my keys from my pocket.

Me: “If you lay a finger on me, I will pepper spray you.” 

Protester: “She just threatened to assault me!”

Officer: “I have had twelve complaints about you guys today. You cannot block the college. You cannot harass people who do not want to listen to you.”

Protester: “But—”

Officer: “If I get one more call, I’m arresting every single person here.”

Protester: “She—”

Officer: “The judge isn’t in until Tuesday. Choose wisely.”

The protester spat at my feet before walking away.

I got in my car and completed my order. The customer was understanding and tipped me an extra $10 for the trouble.

When I returned, the group was on both curbs, leaning out as far as they could. The woman who spat at me started to cross the street when I came up, I suppose thinking I would stop for her. 

I did not. She had to quickly backpedal to avoid becoming my new hood decoration.

A few years ago, I was heading to class to take a final in my music history class and forgot a scantron (a form where you fill in the bubbles for multiple-choice tests). I stopped by the college bookstore, grabbed a scantron, and ran up to the counter. This is when I met “her”. “Her” was a woman in her mid-fifties with wrinkles on her face that can only come with holding a constant scowl on your face for decades.

When I pulled out my card, she pointed to a sign that said there was a $10 minimum. Yes, $10. The scantron was about twenty cents. I can totally get a $5 minimum, but $10? Come on.

Well, I didn’t have any change in my pocket, but there was a “take a penny, leave a penny” jar. So, I reached over and grabbed a couple of dimes someone was kind enough to leave.

Employee: *Putting her hand over the jar* “You can leave change, but you can’t take change.”

At this point, I figured I could either get really upset or play the game she wanted.

Me: “I understand. There are a few more items I still need.”

I proceeded to go the the furthest corners of the store and pick up about $200 worth of small items from the highest, lowest, and most inconvenient spots in the store. The entire time, “Her” had a wicked smile on her face like she’d won.

I walked up to the counter with my basket, paid, and signed for the items. Then…

Me: “I’d like to return everything but the scantron please”.

She was livid! People don’t usually yell at me, but she completely lost it. She ended up calling the campus police and the other workers.

When the campus police arrived, they informed her that what I had done was completely legal. “Her” couldn’t handle it but had to refund me for everything but the scantron.

Campus Officer: *Smirking* “Please don’t do that again.”

Me: “Yes, sir!”

I was about twenty minutes late for the final, but I ended up making an A.

I’m in a class in law school.

Professor: “Who can give me an example of a no-fault criminal offense?”

Hands go up. The professor calls upon [Student #1].

Student #1: “Catching underage lobsters.”

Professor: “O… kay, any other examples?”

The professor calls upon [Student #2], who has put his hand down.

Student #2: “Sorry, I was going to say the lobster thing.”

Professor: “Does anyone have any non-lobster-related examples?”

No hands went up.

Unbeknownst to the professor, the first-year criminal law syllabus had changed to include a new leading case on no-fault offenses that involved fishermen catching underage lobsters and failing to release them. That case was the only example all of us could remember from our first year.

My girlfriend has a job on our college campus. This year, gnats have been a major issue in our area, and her bosses ended up buying several glue traps to try and cull them in the building she works in.

It’s important to note that I’m generally fascinated by bugs to the point that my girlfriend literally calls me “Bug” as a pet name. However, I am not an entomology student and have never done anything with dead bugs to prompt this text conversation in the wake of her sending me a picture of one of the traps doing its job.

Me: “Honestly, I need to get me some of those.”

Girlfriend: “Do you want me to sneak you the paper?”

Me: “Is there even an easy way to get it to my apartment? Without it sticking to everything?”

Girlfriend: “I can carry it?”

Me: “That still feels like more trouble than it’s worth even if I swing my car around. I can just make a [Supermarket] pit stop this week.”

Girlfriend: “Oh, you mean the paper.”

Me: “???”

Girlfriend: “I thought you meant you wanted the gnats, not the paper.”

Me: “[Girlfriend], darling, love of my life… I know I like bugs, but what on EARTH would I do with a bunch of gnats stuck in a glue trap?!”

Girlfriend: “I don’t know! I stopped questioning you and your bugs ages ago.”

At least she’s supportive of my weird interests?