One year, I am on vacation at a large gaming convention in Indianapolis. The convention goes well, but when it comes time to fly home, I arrive at the airport and am informed that the flight is delayed due to engine trouble. Due to how busy the airport is, there aren’t going to be any alternative flights available until at least the next evening. So I and the other passengers on that flight wait. And wait. And wait some more.

Finally, more than two hours after my connecting flight in Denver has already left, my flight to Denver makes it to Indianapolis. Naturally, this means that we don’t get to Denver until late at night, and the airline puts us up in complimentary hotel rooms. They also give us little travel bags with toothbrushes, toothpaste, and other basic personal hygiene items.

Since I try to avoid checking through luggage, I still have all my stuff and proceed to toss the travel bag into my suitcase and forget about it.

The next morning, I am shuttled back to Denver International Airport. Things go smoothly until it is my turn to go through TSA screening. The screener scans my bags and then pulls my suitcase off the line.

Screener: “You were on that flight that was delayed from Indianapolis last night, weren’t you?”

Me: “Yes, how could you tell?”

He opens my suitcase, pulls out the travel bag, and removes the toothpaste.

Screener: “It’s just over the maximum size limit. I’ve been pulling these out all morning.”

He then waved me through, minus the toothpaste.

When I finally made it to my destination, I made sure to let the airline’s representative know about the issue with the toothpaste. I also was given a travel voucher over the flight delay; I know now that they should have given a cash refund. It turned out to have so many restrictions on what and how it could be used that it would have actually cost me more money trying to get the “discount” than just booking my seats regularly did. I made a habit of avoiding booking flights on that airline after that.

It’s at the peak of toilet-paper-based panic-buying. I am working at the counter of a chocolate shop and making small talk with a couple of customers as I check them out.

Customer #1: “It’s all so crazy, isn’t it?”

Me: “Oh, I know. I’ve even been worried that when people use the bathroom they’ll steal all of our toilet rolls!”

Customer #1: “That would be terrible!”

Customer #2: “Ooh! You all should make toilet-roll-shaped chocolates!”

Customer #1: “That’s a great idea!”

Customer #2: “Made of white chocolate!”

Customer #1: “Even better, white chocolate with splatters of milk chocolate on the outside!”

Me: *Awkward pause* “Yeah. Well, here you are. Thanks for coming in!”

Customer #2: *Walking out the door* “Seriously, do it! You’ll do great business!”

I actually lost that job soon after because of the outbreak but I don’t think poo-themed chocolates would have saved it.

I am greeting members at a gym. A member walks in wearing a shirt with Deadpool riding a unicorn on it. I am female.

Me: “Hey, I like your shirt!”

The member looks at me, surprised and caught off guard.

Member: “Thanks?”

As he and his friend walk away, he turns to them and says:

Member: “Girls like Deadpool, too?!”

The shoe store I work for requires us to bring at least four shoes to a customer, even if they ask for fewer. I bring out three shoes the customer asked for, as well as a fourth of my choosing.

Me: “And here’s a similar style for you to try on if you’re interested.”

The customer looks intently at the shoe.

Customer: “No, thanks. That’s not really my style.”

Me: “All right, I’m going to ring up another customer. Let me get these shoes out of your way.”

I come back in just a minute or two to ask how the shoes feel, having just put the others away.

Customer: “These are great, but I really like this one. Can I try it on, too?”

She holds up the shoe I JUST showed her that she said she didn’t like.

Me: “You sure can.”

My manager was in the back room doubled over laughing.

I am eating out, sitting in a booth, when I suddenly feel a sharp pain on top of my head. I flinch and turn to look, and I end up dodging the second swing of a spoon being held by a toddler in the next booth over. He has evidently stood up and decided that drumming on my head with a spoon would be a lot of fun.

I look at his parents; both of them are fully engrossed in their phones and are paying absolutely no attention.

The toddler swings again. I dodge and then fix him with a direct stare and a frown, before sharply shaking my head.

Me: “No, that hurts.”

The smile he has been wearing fades, and he ends up turning around and flopping down on the seat. I turn back to my meal, figuring that is the end of it, when the mother speaks up.

Mother: “How dare you?!”

I turn to see her glaring back at me.

Mother: “It’s not your place to scold my kid.”

Me: “It’s not my place to be your kid’s drum, either.”

She scoffed and actually stuck out her tongue before turning back to her phone. Meanwhile, her kid had moved on to doodling on the menu with a couple of crayons.