(I’m in the common area of my dorm, attempting to get some homework done, as there isn’t enough space in my dorm room for this project. A pair of other students apparently have the same idea. Unfortunately, they are working on what appears to be accounting homework, and bickering over a problem, LOUDLY. I’m trying to concentrate on my own work, but they just keep going back and forth, and it’s distracting, as their volume only rises.)

Me: *finally fed up* “Oh, my God. Just… give me the problem you’re working on!”

Student #1: *snootily, after glancing at the large self-portrait I’m working on* “Um, you won’t understand the terms.”

Me: *ignoring the fact that they’ve been bickering so long I already do* “It’s just f****** math. I don’t need the terms; just give me the numbers.”

Student #2: “Um… it’s [figure #1] and [figure #2].”

Me: “Are you f****** kidding me? It’s . It’s frigging basic division! Now, can I please get back to work in peace?!”

(They both glare at me and flip to the back of their book, then immediately look sheepish.)

Student #1: “It… it is .”

Student #2: *glancing at my homework* “So… Is that an elective, or…?”

Me: “No. I’m an illustration major.”

Student #2: *weakly* “Well, I guess you could always switch to accounting if you wanted.”

(Thankfully, after that, they were much quieter.)

(I’m a student living on the top floor of a nice dorm. “Nice dorm” means nice elevators with functioning emergency call buttons. One day, I’m riding the elevator down when the emergency call button blinks, along with a ringing sound.)

Me: “No way.”

(I push the call button.)

Caller: “Hi!”

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Is this [Female Name]?”

Me: *definitely male voice* “No.”

Caller: “When will [Female Name] be in?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Caller: “Are you sure?”

Me: “This is an elevator.”

Caller: *long pause* “I’m sorry?”

Me: “You called an elevator. There is no [Female Name] here.”

Caller: *click*

(I am laying in my dorm room in the early afternoon, done with classes for the day. My window faces the front of the building and is almost always open, so I hear strangers passing by quite often.)

Person Outside: *sneezes loudly*

Me: *shouting* “Bless you.”

Person Outside: *shouts back* “Thank you.”

(To make everything even better, my curtains were closed the whole time, so neither of us ever saw the other.)

(My friends and I have just come in from a night out, and a bunch of them head to the sub shop on campus. I head back to my dorm first to drop off something, and decide to grab a can of pop to drink on my way to meet them. As we are heading back to our dorm with our sandwiches, I discard my can into a big trolley that we have been told is for recycling while they wait for bins to be delivered. Shortly afterwards, a girl comes up to me and I think she’s a friend of a friend at first.)

RA: “All right, so it was you who had the open can of alcohol. What’s your name?”

(I then notice the notepad in her hand and realize she is an RA about to write me up.)

Me: “No, I had a can of pop that I was drinking.”

RA: “I know what I saw; you had an open can of beer.”

Me: “Uh, no. I’m sorry; it was a can of Diet Coke. I can show it to you if you want.”

RA: “Yes, let’s go back and see it.”

Me: *thinking* “Seriously?” *saying* “Fine.”

(The whole walk back she is super smug, and I think she thought I was too drunk to realize what I was drinking. Joke is on her, because when we get up to the trolley, my can of Diet Coke is the only one there and I proudly point at it. I see her face turn red, but she is determined to write me up for something.)

RA: “Well, you shouldn’t discard your trash in there. That’s very rude and disrespectful; this isn’t meant for recycling.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry; I was told we were supposed to put any recycling in there until the shop received their new recycling bins from the university. Did they get their new bins?”

RA: “What are you talking about? They’ve always had recycling bins. They’re right…”

(That’s when she realized there weren’t any around, and talked to the staff at the shop to confirm the trolley was to be used for recycling. I offered to remove the can if it was a problem, but the death stare she gave me just told me to let it go.)

(I just moved into one of the freshmen dorms at my university. This dorm has a tiny kitchen on the ground floor off the main room, and I go there my first night to fill up my water filter. There’s a group of other residents already there, haphazardly baking cupcakes to celebrate moving in.)

Girl #1: “How much time until those pans are done?”

Guy #1: *checking the oven* “Um… a couple more minutes? Wait, oh man! We don’t have any oven mitts, do we?! Guys, how will we get the pans out?!”

Me: *watching him freak out* “Do you have kitchen towels?”

Guy #1: “Huh? Yeah, we have a couple.”

Me: “Just use those as mitts.”

Guy #1: “…wow. You’re right. Thanks!”

Girl #2: “Crap, we’re going to have so many cupcakes. We don’t have space to store all of them, do we?”

Girl #1: “I mean, there’s no way we’re eating them all tonight. Should we leave them in here?”

Me: “You could give them to your friends, or just hand them out around the dorm.”

Girl #2: “Oh, yeah, that would be nice! Let’s do that.”

Guy #2: “Uh, guys, look how much batter we still have. It’s going to take all night to make these.”

Guy #1: “Aw, geez, we made way too much… but we can’t just throw it all away. What do we do?”

Me: *now staring at them* “Are we allowed to put stuff in the fridge?”

Girl #2: “Yeah. I mean, I don’t see why not. It’s here, after all.”

Me: “So, why not cover the bowl and put it in the fridge for tonight? You can bake the rest tomorrow when you have more time.”

Guy #1: *looking at the fridge like I just revealed the secret to life* “Man, you’re so smart!”

Me: “…Thanks.”

(These are the students this university accepted. I am currently questioning my life choices.)