I’m the writer of this story.

When I first came to Japan, I went to a Japanese language school in Yokohama. I had a great apartment a twenty- to twenty-five-minute from the school, and since I always went there and back at the same time, I got to know and chat with some of my neighbors and other people who happened to be walking along that same road. 

One of these was an elderly man who lived in my neighborhood whom I often saw on my way home. One day, he invited me to meet and chat with a group of his equally elderly friends. I was a little shy but didn’t know enough Japanese at the time to refuse, so I went along with him. It was the middle of winter, and so I was wrapped up in quite a few layers that pretty much hid any kind of figure I had. (Japanese winters can be bitter if, like me, you’re not used to the cold.)

The group was lovely and asked me a lot of questions about where I came from, did I like Japan — the usual catechism that foreigners get. About ten minutes later, one of the women leaned forward.

Woman: “You have really beautiful skin.” 

This is a comment I often get from random Japanese people since the genetic lottery gave me skin that is smooth and naturally very pale, which is considered beautiful in Japan. I’m also never entirely sure how to answer it.

Me: “Oh…uh…thank you.”

Woman: “Yes. You almost look like a woman.”

After much hysterical choking and spluttering into his tea, the man who’d invited me said:

Man: “She is a woman!”

I know I have a pretty deep voice, but I hadn’t realized it was THAT deep!

Related:
Ah, The Delightful Quirks Of Language

I’m working at a bank branch that’s not in the greatest neighborhood, but I still enjoy working there because the customers are so nice. I’m a female in my twenties, but due to my baby face, I look much younger. A kid who doesn’t look any older than eighteen swaggers up to the line.

Me: “Hi there. How can I help you?”

The customer flings his card on the counter.

Customer: “Get me my cash now! I got places to be.”

Me: “Sure thing. How much do you need today?”

Customer: “All of it!”

Me: “Now, just so you know, if you take everything out, the account will close—”

Customer: “Did I ask what you think? Gimme my money! Now!”

The customer behind him, a petite woman in her sixties, reaches up and SMACKS the back of his head.

Customer: “OW! What the h***?!” *Turns around* “Nana?!”

Nana: “Just what do you think you’re doin’, child?”

Customer: “Just… gettin’ some money.”

Nana: “Not like that! Your momma and I did not raise you to be rude, especially in my bank! These girls are always nice to me, and you need to respect them!”

Customer: “But, Nana—”

Nana: “No! You will apologize to this young lady!”

Customer: *To me* “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s been a bad day.”

Nana: “It’s about to get worse for you, [Customer]! Sit your behind down while I get my money.”

Customer: “But, Nana—”

Nana: “No! You will come back another day when you can be polite. Sit!”

He meekly sits in the waiting area.

Nana: “Now, honey, can you please withdraw $100 from my account? Here’s my ID.”

I count back her cash while fighting the urge to laugh.

Me: “You have a nice day, ma’am!”

Nana: “Oh, you, too, sugar. I’m sorry for my grandson; he was raised better than that.”

Me: *Still fighting the urge to laugh* “Don’t worry about it!”

Nana: “Aren’t you sweet?!” *To her grandson* “You, sir, will march to my car. Just wait until I tell your momma!”

Customer: “No! Please don’t tell her!”

Nana: “MARCH!”

She pushed him out the door, continuing to rain threats on him. He came in a few days later for his cash, as meek and polite as could be!

A vegan health food company is organising a weekend retreat for their staff, and I am designing the flyer for them that contains the information about the activities and events, as well as location and admin information.

They send through their text copy, and I stop to call them when I get to the hotel information and the list of its amenities. 

Me: “Just double-checking the list of hotel amenities; I think there’s a typo.”

Client: “I did that myself! It’s correct! We chose a very nice hotel for our employees!”

Me: “Oh, no doubt about that. However, you’ve listed the spa as having a pool, sauna, and steak room.”

Client: “…”

Me: “I’m gonna go ahead and change that to ‘steam room’?”

Client: “Thank you…” 

I didn’t want to think how well that would go down with a vegan brand!

When my mother was a senior in high school, her class did “senior skip day,” a designated day near the end of the school year when all the graduating seniors skipped school and went to the beach. Her parents banned her from going, but she managed to sneak out early in the day and her boyfriend picked her up. She was having a blast drinking and hanging out with her friends at the beach when, suddenly, her parents and little sister showed up in her dad’s pickup truck. Somehow, she stayed hidden long enough for them to give up and go home, though she was in for the grounding of a lifetime when she got home.

Many years later, when I was fifteen, all the cool kids hung out at the movie theater because there was nothing else to do in our little town. The theater was at the top of a hill and at the bottom was a gas station. My mom dropped us off with explicit orders not to get snacks from the gas station because she didn’t want us to get hit by a car while walking on the hill. We waited until she left, and then we walked out of the theater intent on getting our gas station snacks.

Immediately, my mother’s car pulled up out of nowhere. I tried telling her we were just waiting for another friend to join us, but of course, she didn’t believe me. I always marveled at her ability to catch me when I thought I’d been so clever. Now that I know the story of her sneaking out, I realize that she always knew what I was going to do because I was a little mini-her. Also, teenagers are not always as sneaky as they think they are.

In algebra class, we are learning about the ASTC rule, which is helpful for finding trig functions. My teacher is explaining the meaning to us for the first time.

Teacher: “All right, so, ASTC stands for All Students Take Calculus… or maybe Cash?”

I speak without thinking.

Me: “Crack!”

The lesson had to stop for five minutes while we calmed down.