(I am going to visit a friend, driving along the motorway, and I notice a dead kangaroo with a ute stopped just beyond it. I only really notice it because the traffic has slowed down at that area due to a tow truck manoeuvring to pick up the ute. Later, at my friend’s house, her husband comes in from work and greets me.)

Husband: “How was the drive? Did you have any problems with the kangaroos?”

Me: “No, but there were quite a few dead ones up near [Area].”

Husband: “Really? [Area]? You didn’t happen to notice a white ute stopped along on the way, did you?”

Me: “Actually, yes. It looked like it had hit a kangaroo and was about to get towed. Why?”

Husband: “Two of our apprentices called in this morning saying they’d hit a kangaroo, and my boss didn’t believe them; he thought they were just trying to get a day off. He wanted me to get proof from them; you’ve just provided it!”

(It is normal here for girls to carry lotion in their bags and offer some to all the other girls with them every time they use it. Several of my male friends have recently started asking for some, and now we all offer to the girls AND the guys, usually without laughing. One of my friends uses her lotion, and this conversation follows:)

Female Friend: “Do you want lotion for your face? It’s super dry…” *unintelligible*

Male Friend: “What?”

Female Friend: “Do you want lotion? For your face? It’s really dry.”

Male Friend: “Did you say gross?”

Female Friend: “What? Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, I could say it if you want. Gross. Your face is gross. It’s so dry.”

Male Friend: “Rude.”

Female Friend: “Okay, sorry! Do you want lotion for your dry face?”

Male Friend: *look*

Female Friend: “Oh, my gosh! Okay, do you want lotion for your not-very-moisturized face?”

I am working as a shift leader at a movie theatre. Concession closes about ten minutes after the last shows start and the crew leaves once the tills are counted and everything has been cleaned and refilled for the next morning, leaving only two people to spend the time doodling around and checking theatres as the films drop out.

This evening has been slow but fun, as I got to work with two of my favorite coworkers, friends I also hang with off of work. Being a shift leader gives me power over them at work and more responsibility but it has never really affected our friendship until now. [Coworker #1] and I are the ones staying tonight, so [Coworker #2] comes up to us after she has changed out of her uniform for some small talk before leaving. As she’s beginning to walk away, she tells us that she will take a bag of chips with her but pay the next time she works. I sense alarm bells ringing and tell her I am not okay with that. 

The chain we work for is very generous with staff discounts and lenient with us. They trust us, and I am of the opinion that such trust should be respected and not taken advantage of; I do not want to see that trust disappear. [Coworker #2] taking a bag of chips might not seem like a huge deal, but it puts a lot of responsibility on me and [Coworker #1] to make sure she actually pays for it later, which she could claim to have done on a day when [Coworker #1] and I don’t work, and she could easily forget it, as well. I trust my friend, but I am not comfortable with this and I tell her that if she’s craving chips so badly, there is a gas station ten minutes away by bike that’s open 24/7.

[Coworker #2] throws a huge fit, but I stand my ground, and it is with sadness that I watch her flounce off. 

The next day, she sends me a text apologising, telling me I was right and she was wrong. She has talked with another friend who works in retail who had agreed with me. The apology is accepted, but clearly, something broke between us that evening. We used to hang at work and off of work several times a week. Afterward, we only hang at work. We still chat like before, but our times together off of work dwindle to maybe once every two months, often when [Coworker #1] is with us. Later that year, I am not even invited to her birthday party, and while she says the party was a surprise for her and others were organising it, they still know that I was one of her closest friends and I should have been on the list by default. Some might claim I was too harsh — it’s just a bag of chips after all — but even though I miss the friendship we used to have, my conscience is clear.

(Whilst I’m at work, I spot some friends of mine browsing the frozen food aisle. As it’s quiet and I have nothing that needs doing, I decide to say hello.)

Me: *to friends* “Excuse me, madam. I’m going to have to ask you to leave as you’re causing trouble.”

(My friends laugh at the joke. However, a lady nearby doesn’t find it funny.)

Lady: “How dare you?! They weren’t doing anything wrong! The staff here are very rude; I want to complain!”

Friend: “Grandma, it’s okay; we know him! He’s joking!”

(My friend’s Grandma gave me a dirty look, and has done so every time we’ve met since!)

(I am a student nurse, about a year from graduation. A friend of mine calls.)

Me: “Hello?”

Friend: “So, you’re a nurse, right?”

Me: “I already don’t like where this is going, and I’m a student nurse. Not–”

Friend: “Okay, well, I have some gravel deep in my hand. Can I just pour some gin on it and be fine?”

(Gin also happens to be his favorite alcohol.)

Me: “What?! Hang on; how did you get gravel in your hand and how deep is it?”

Friend: “I was on my bike and some a**hole opened their car door right in front of me and I went down pretty hard. And here, let me just take a picture.”

(He sends me a picture of his hand, showing that the gravel is dug in pretty deep and firmly stuck in so rinsing it with anything won’t get it out.)

Me: “You need to get tweezers and pull out the gravel, rinse it with water, put something like Neosporin on it, and cover it with a bandaid.”

Friend: “Well, I don’t have tweezers or any of that, really.”

Me: “You live in NYC. There’s definitely some kind of drug store or corner store you can get this stuff in.”

Friend: “I don’t want to spend money on things I already have at home, so can I just pour gin on it?”

Me: *sighs* “I cannot condone this at all but rinsing it with water is probably the best option.”

Friend: “So, gin is okay?”

Me: “If you’re intent on using alcohol, use straight vodka, instead, BUT I CANNOT CONDO–”

Friend: “Okay, thanks, bye!” *hangs up*

(He texts me a picture of his hand. He has used a prong of his watch to dig out the gravel, causing himself to bleed more and making the entire area fairly red. He texts me an hour or so later.)

Friend: “The barkeeper wouldn’t just give me some vodka, so I had to buy it and go into the bathroom to rinse it. Thanks again!”

Me: “This still was not your best option and I cannot condone this behavior.”

(He never replied.)