(I’m a manager at a technology store and a lesbian. There are two men holding hands and giving each other little kisses every now and then, a woman who is trying her hardest not to look at them, and a mother and her five- or six-year-old daughter, all waiting in line. The two men get to the register.)

Man #1: “Hi, we were wondering if you do wedding registry here?”

Me: “No, sorry, we don’t. But my wife and I found when we were doing our wedding registry stuff that if you find a shop that doesn’t do a registry, just write down the SKU numbers so people can come in and—”

Woman: “Come on, none of us have time to be dealing with your little gay pride bulls***! None of you should be getting married anyway. It’s a sin!”

(I start to open my mouth, but the little girl stomps her foot and gives the woman the meanest look I have ever seen.)

Little Girl: “That’s not nice! You say you’re sorry, right now!”

(The woman is taken aback, but is not done with her rant.)

Woman: “I will not apologize to sinners! What they are doing is wrong! God hates people like—”

Little Girl: “No! Girls can like girls and boys can like boys. If God wanted boys and girls only to like each other then he would have made them only like each other! And don’t you know God loves everyone, even boys who like boys?!”

(The woman and the little girl look at each other for a good 10 seconds until the woman drops her items on the floor and storms out. The mother, the gay couple, and I are all speechless. Like a total boss the little girl takes the expensive robotic toy from her mother and walks to the counter.)

Little Girl: “I want this, please!”

Man #2: “My soon-to-be-husband and I would like to pay for that.”

Me: “And wouldn’t you know it, we give 50% discounts to amazing little girls here!”

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(During the 2012 presidential campaign, I volunteer for activities and campaigning in Colorado as a means to kill time before I move to another state to go to college. As it is summertime before I move, there is nothing for me to do. However, after I move to school, which is about 1,000 miles away, I get a series of phone calls.)

Caller: Hi, we saw you are interested in volunteering for [Candidate A]’s campaign. When would you be interested in coming in to help?”

Me: “Sorry, I cannot. I currently reside in [Different State] to go to college. As geography makes it difficult for me to volunteer in Colorado, I think its best you remove me from your call list. Thank you, though.”

(One week later.)

Caller: “Hello, I am with [Candidate A]’s presidential campaign for Colorado. Would you be interested in volunteering for us?”

Me: “No. As I explained before, I am in [different state]. It is virtually impossible for me to volunteer. Furthermore, I asked my name be removed from your call list. Please do so now.”

(Two weeks go by. I am studying for an exam and guess who calls.)

Caller: “Hello. I am with [Candidate A]’s presidential campaign in Colorado. We noticed you are interested in volunteering for this campaign, and we would like to—”

Me: “Stop right there. I have asked repeatedly for you to remove my name from your call sheet, as I live in a completely different state. If any of you call me again, I will vote for [Candidate B] out of spite.”

(They have stopped calling since!)

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(My group of friends and I are all very experienced outdoorsmen so our camping trips are really roughing it: typically, we take a six-or-so-mile hike with minimal equipment so we can live off of the land as much as possible. My friend’s new girlfriend decides she wants to come with us. She shows up the day of the trip with four bags, including things like a hairdryer.)

Me: “Why are you bringing all this? Didn’t [Friend] tell you to pack light?”

Girl: “Well, I did. I only brought the stuff I need.”

Me: “Uh, not really. You don’t even have any food.”

Girl: “I’ll just go to a restaurant or something.”

(After we arrive in the mountains to begin our hike up:)

Girl: “Where are the cabins?”

Me: “There aren’t any.”

Girl: “Then where are we staying?”

Me: “In the woods, about seven miles that way.”

Girl: *Pause* “Are you kidding?”

Me: “Nope. I thought [Friend] told you we were camping?”

Girl: “He did. I just thought he was kidding about being out in the woods. Like, we would be in cabins like summer camp.”

(That was her last camping trip.)

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(I teach entomology, and I have a student walk up to me with a quiz.)

Student: “I think you marked my quiz wrong. Number five was Coleoptera, but you marked it incorrect.”

(I look over the quiz. There’s no sign he changed the answer, but I had marked it wrong because I misread it as something else completely different. Upon closer inspection, I make out that it does say, “Coleoptera.”)

Me: “You’re right. I’ll give you that point.”

Student: “I’m sorry; my handwriting is like a drunk spider that fell in an inkpot and tried to walk on the page.”

(I laughed so hard I accidentally ripped his paper with the pen.)

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(I work in my stepdad’s medical office. I am about 10 minutes late due to a car accident delaying traffic. There is an older patient waiting outside the office.)

Patient: *testily* “Why are you late?”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am. There was an accident on my way in delaying traffic. Let me unlock the door, and I’ll help you.”

Patient: “Well, I was going to leave, but I’ll see Dr. [Name] now.”

Me: “Once again, I’m very sorry, ma’am. He’s not in his office today. He’s doing school testing.”

Patient: “This is unacceptable. Your sign says you’re open from 10-4 on Thursdays!”

Me: “Ma’am, do you have an appointment?”

Patient: “No, you stupid girl! I don’t need an appointment!”

Me: “Well, our sign also says we don’t take walk-ins. So yes, you do need one.”

Patient: “This is outrageous! Why can’t I see the doctor?”

Me: “I just told you that, ma’am. Now I can schedule an appointment for you, or—”

Patient: “You call the doctor and get him back here right now! If you don’t, I’ll have my grandson come by and beat you up!”

Me: “Ma’am, I think you need to leave.”

Patient: “Why? I’m paying you!”

Me: “Because you just threatened to have me assaulted. If you do not leave immediately, I will call hospital security and have you escorted out.”

(She doesn’t leave. She calls her grandson, who apparently turns down her offer for him to come and hurt me, and I call security. The following Monday, a young man about my age walks into the office. He is holding a bouquet of flowers.)

Young Man: “Hi, are you the lady my grandmother asked me to beat up?”

Me: “Yes, I think that would be me.”

Young Man: *hands me the flowers* “I am so sorry. She does this every time she doesn’t get her way. I just wanted to thank you for being one of the few to not cave to her demands.”