We recently had an agency temp on reception as our receptionist had a three-week holiday. On the temp’s second day, she asked where confidential shredding needed to be put. We were a little confused as to why she would need it, but we showed her where it should be placed.

One of her duties, while covering reception, was to open the post and distribute it throughout the office. She had been left clear, concise, and detailed written instructions, but she somehow misunderstood. She had removed private and confidential letters from their envelopes and then shredded the envelopes because they stated “private” and “confidential” on them.

Our lab is used by companies who want to drug test their employees or potential applicants, usually via a urine test. I sign in an applicant and direct them to their room, and they then return with the sample bag. The bag is clear and contains the collection tube inside.

Me: “Sir, I don’t think we can accept this sample.”

Applicant: *Immediately defensive* “Why not?!”

Me: “Because if you’re going to try to fool our tests, I personally wouldn’t try to replace the urine with Mountain Dew.”

Applicant: “How do you know that’s Mountain Dew?!”

Me: “One, I can see the soda bottle in your pocket, the color of which matches the sample you’ve just returned. And two, unless you urgently need to see a doctor, I would have gone with regular Mountain Dew, not their Code Red flavor.”

My aunt was staying with us for a bit so she could attend a funeral. I didn’t know any details about it.

I was doing dishes when I came across a note on the counter with the name of a recently deceased former senator on it. I thought this was rather odd.

Me: “Hey, didn’t [Late Senator] die recently?”

Aunt: “Yes, he was my grandfather.”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

There was silence for about a minute.

Me: “Wait, that’s the funeral that you’re here for.”

Aunt: “Yeah.”

Needless to say, it made her laugh. I was thoroughly embarrassed, though.

This was back in the early 1990s, when I was about ten years old. The gaming console Super Nintendo had just hit the market, kids were going crazy over it, and you were the cool cat on the block if your parents were gracious enough to bless you with one. My mom was gracious enough to bless me with a new lawnmower after gagging on the $200 price tag.

As I was absolutely dying for a console of my own, that lawnmower became my girlfriend that summer as I was on a daily basis either riding my bike around knocking on doors and pestering people for lawn work or pushing my lawnmower to the next address of the person who’d said yes. After a while, regulars were referring me to other people, I was getting calls offering other odd jobs, and my wallet was getting fatter and fatter to the point where my mom opened a savings account and had me put it all there for safekeeping.

Then, one day, I found myself locked out of the house after my mom left to work a short morning shift and I stepped outside briefly only for the wind to blow the door shut. Trying to be MacGyver, I used a pocket knife to remove a screen and get back inside. However, in the process of trying to fit the screen back in, I lost my footing and fell against the large plate glass window, leaving a spectacular sunburst splitting pattern. And like a scene out of a bad sitcom, our landlord rolled up about five minutes later and exited his vehicle with a cheery, “Good morning! Is [Mom] home?”

As he surveyed the damaged window, he commented;

Landlord: “Yeah, these screens are kind of tricky. If you’re locked out, just run to the neighbor’s house and give me a call; my wife or I will let you in. Please don’t do this. This costs $200 to replace.”

And by dumb luck, I was only $10 from my $200 goal.

I spent the next couple of hours walking around the block, kicking things and screaming substituted words for profanity. When I headed back home a couple of hours later, I noticed a large van parked in front of our house with the words “Emergency Window Repair” printed on it, and I knew I was dead. I turned around and left.

Hours later, I decided that I had no choice but to face the music and say goodbye to my hard-earned money for acting stupid.

Dragging myself in like I was heading for my beheading, I beheld my mom, calmly sprawled out on the couch and watching television.

Mom: *Glaring at me* “Where have you been? I told you not to leave the house while I’m at work. If you want to go canvassing around the area looking for lawn work, you wait until I’m home! Do that again and you’re grounded for two weeks!”

Me: “Yes…” *Waiting for it*

Mom: *Turning back to the television* “Oh, by the way, the landlord stopped by a little while ago. He said you did a nice job mowing his mom’s lawn and that it was nice of you that you later turned around and gave her back the money she paid you because she was in a wheelchair and on oxygen.”

I’m not sure I can describe my mix of emotions (or my mom’s confusion as to why I was laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling with an enormous smile on my face). I can tell you, though, that the Super Nintendo I bought brought me years of joy.

Me: “You’re through to [Public Library]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Do you know stuff about science?”

Me: “I have some basic knowledge, but I know enough to help you choose the correct library resources to help you.”

Caller: “I think I have a black hole forming in my backyard.”

Pause.

Me: “And what makes you think that, ma’am?”

Caller: “There’s a black hole in my backyard, and I think it’s getting bigger.”

Me: “Well, I don’t know what that is, but I think it’s unlikely to be a black hole.”

Caller: “How would you know?”

Me: “Well, you and I, and quite possibly the whole planet, wouldn’t be here anymore if it really was a black hole.”

Caller: “Oh, that’s a relief.”

Silence.

Me: “Was there anything else I could help you with, ma’am?”

Caller: “Not right now. I’m going to go find out what the black hole is.”

Me: “Good luck!”

We end the call and I go back to my duties. Five minutes later, the phone rings, and I answer.

Caller: “It was my neighbor’s goats!”