My cousin’s kid is playing baseball against a rival school. It’s the final game of the year, so I came to support him.

Cousin: “Here. I got you some food.”

She hands me a hot dog, but it’s wrapped up in flatbread instead of in a bun.

Me: “Is this… garlic naan?”

Cousin: “Yeah, it’s traditional. ‘Cause of the mascot.”

Me: “Huh? I thought the mascot was just a tiger.”

Cousin: “It is now, but… for a long time, before anyone worried about that kind of thing, the mascot was the Indian Chief. Some kid would wear a fake war bonnet and dance around with a bow and arrow and all that. Then, one day, someone from [Native American Tribe] pointed out that this was kind of offensive, and also all the traditions were wrong, so we stopped.”

Me: “So, is the bread just a pun?”

Cousin: “No, that came after. They had a big meeting about the new mascot, and they’d already made this big display where the cheerleaders would carry around giant letters that spelled out ‘INDIAN CHIEF’. So, in this meeting, the owner of the local curry takeout place said, ‘I’ve got the solution: my restaurant sponsors your team, and all you need to do is throw away the I in “chief”.’”

Me: “So… why the tigers?”

Cousin: “The [County] school board got upset because people were more excited about the food than the game. So, the restaurant owner said, ‘To heck with it; let’s do tiger habitat awareness instead.’”

I work in a library. It’s Friday, which means we close a bit earlier than other weekdays. My colleague and I are going through the usual pre-closing routines when the local Tough Girl Gang walks in: four girls around thirteen who have an honestly impressive aura of “Don’t F*** With Us” but who occasionally have to be tossed out for unruly behaviour.

Me: “Hi, guys. Just so you know, we’re closing in ten minutes.”

Head Girl: “No, you’re not. You close at seven.”

Me: “We close at five, sorry.”

Head Girl: “Come on. We know you close at seven on Thursdays.”

Me: “…Yes, but today is Friday.”

All four girls brake so hard I could swear I smell burnt rubber, though that could be from their confidence deflating. They quickly huddle together and get their phones out, talking rapidly (and uncharacteristically quietly) amongst each other.

Girl #2: “But if today is Friday, then…” 

They quickly turned around and ran out, having collectively missed an entire day and clearly VERY late for something.

I was in line at the checkout and the line was moving fast. The retail worker there went through the line with quite a speed.

Worker: “Twenty-one Euro and thirty-eight cents!”

Next:

Worker: “Forty-two Euro forty-eight!”

Next:

Worker: “Seventeen, eighteen!”

I had a cart full of odds and ends to refill in my household, but when it came to my sum:

Worker: “Total of four— I mean, forty… and… no… zero cents?”

He looked at me in confusion for a second and we both started laughing.

I work in a cafe, and we start to pack up at 12:00. One time, this group of mums and their little kids came in at 12:00. They all ordered coffee as I hadn’t closed the machine, and they tried to order some food. Their kids were being pests, and we still needed to pack up the inside of the cafe.

So, I started to play explicit songs over the speakers — nothing bad, just language, and my supervisor agreed.

All it took was one child to repeat a word and then all of them were saying words from the songs. The mums quickly gathered their kids and left.

Coworker: “There are three things I hate about working in this store.”

Me: “Like how the customers gather around the deli at 6:59 pm like zombies waiting for the poor guy on shift to go around and put the half-price stickers on the chickens?”

Coworker: “Okay, so there are four things I hate about working in this store…”

They continued to do their department rounds, and as they looped around the store, they came back my way and I overheard them speaking to another coworker.

Coworker: “Okay, so there are nineteen things I hate about working in this store…”