Several years ago, when I was in elementary school — nine or ten years old — my parents surprised my brothers and me with a trip to Disneyland over the summer. The way they had it planned out, we knew we were going to be taking a road trip to California but didn’t know our end destination. We also had been told that we would be getting a budget to buy various souvenirs while we were on said vacation.

I was — and kind of still am — a bit of a Disney nut and I knew that California was where Disneyland was, so to me, that meant we’d see more Disney stores. The park never entered my mind; don’t ask me why. I had a set of sheets that had Jasmine and Rajah from “Aladdin” on them. I’d worn them to pieces and I’d been hoping to get more. So, one day, my mom and I were home and I went to my mom who was folding laundry in the laundry room.

Me: “Hey, Mom, what’s our budget going to be for the souvenirs while we’re in California?”

Mom: “Your dad and I haven’t decided on an exact amount yet, but we’ll let you know.”

Me: “Well, it’s just, do you think the budget would be enough for me to get another set of Jasmine sheets if I find some?”

Mom: “That might be a bit expensive. But we can also look into ordering a set for you, maybe. Plus, you don’t need to go buying sheets at Disneyland.”

I didn’t pick up on the slip immediately and walked out. Then it clicked and I ran back into the room.

Me: “Wait, did you say Disneyland?”

Mom: *Pauses* “Maybe?”

Me: “Really?”

Mom: “Yes.”

Me: “Seriously? Yay!”

I ran in and gave her a hug.

Mom: “Okay, so I spilled the secret, but I need you to keep it from your brothers until we get there. Do you think you can keep the secret?”

Me: “Yeah! Yay!”

I ran off, very excited. I did manage to keep it a secret from my brothers, although I remember getting more and more excited the further into California we got. We had a lot of fun at the park and while I did get souvenirs, I didn’t get a sheet set.

My husband and I were friends with four other couples, all in our senior years, and would get together a couple of times a year at one of the houses to have a barbecue and catch up with each others’ news.

We would take our own barbecue food, and each would supply a box of homemade cakes to share around. Each of us had our specialty cakes, so we had a good selection to choose from.

One year, my specialty went down particularly well, especially with the husbands, so the wives all asked me for the recipe, which I happily gave them.

The next time we all met, guess what cakes the other four wives brought? Yes, they all made and brought my specialty!

I couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or annoyed.

While in a store with my wife, I head over to the electronics section to browse around and wait out a husband’s slow death of “I just need a few things”. There is a girl there that I am guessing is in high school since she has a high school sweatshirt on that’s the same color as the store’s colors. She is looking at cell phone cases when a middle-aged man walks up to her and asks her to get the key to a display case for the gaming consoles. I was not paying attention to either of them until I heard, “Excuse me.”

This girl is five foot nothing in a sweatshirt and jeans. The guy is close to six feet tall and dressed in business casual and is very confident in himself. He doesn’t even suspect how outmatched he is with this kid.

Girl: “I don’t work here.”

Man: “Then why are you behind the counter?”

Girl: “I am not behind the counter.”

Man: “You are by the counter straightening inventory, so you’d better help me or I will get your manager.”

I start to go over to help the kid out, but there is no need. The girl turns to face the man.

Girl: “I am looking for a specific case for my [phone], so are you going to help me or not?”

Man: “Wait, what? I don’t work here.”

Girl: “Neither do I.”

The man keeps demand something of the girl, and then demands something from him, and it ends the same way every time.

Man: “I don’t work here.”

Girl: “Neither do I.”

This goes on for a couple of minutes and the girl pulls out all the stops. The man will say something, and she comes back with a sick grandbaby, her son lost his job, her dad is dying of cancer, her mom was in an accident, her daughter is getting married, etc. She must have five parents and ten kids, and the whole time, this guy just keeps going. They threaten to have each other fired so many times it is head-spinning.

As he gets mad and moves closer to her:

Girl: “Six feet, or I will tell your manager you are violating your store’s distancing policy.”

He backs up a little.

Man: “I don’t work here.”

Girl: “Neither do I.”

That happens twice!

The woman working electronics comes out and asks what the problem is, and they both try to have each other fired. She tries to say that neither of them works here and finally says, “I don’t get paid enough for this stuff,” and leaves them to it. A manager comes up behind me and looks at the scene.

Manager: “Really?”

He finally tries to intervene but can’t get a word in edgewise. It ends finally with both of them saying at the exact same time, “I don’t work here.” “Neither do I.” Think Abbott and Costello, “Who’s On First?”

The man looks back and forth between the girl and the manager.

Manager: “Out of the three of us, I am the only one that works here. Now how can I help you?”

Girl: “Where are the [phone] cases?”

The manager points to an aisle.

Girl: *Pleasantly* “Thank you.”

She absolutely bounces over to the aisle without a care in the world. The manager turns back to the man.

Manager: “And you, sir?”

The man stammered for a minute and finally, sheepishly, explained what he needed.

I’m in a production of “Amadeus” for a local theatre and they have decided to help promote the show by having me and the actress playing Constanze be in a car for the State Fair parade. That morning, we get to the staging area to get ready for the parade. I have my costume, but I didn’t get into it at home, not wanting to wear it more than I have to or drive in an eighteenth-century outfit of brocade. They don’t really have any sort of costume changing area, just the bathroom of one of the stores for which we are using the parking lot.

So, having met up with Constanze and gathered my things, I head off to the bathroom… only to realize I have forgotten part of the costume. I head back, get it, and go off to the bathroom again… only to realize I have forgotten yet another part of the costume. I go back to get it. I tell Constanze as I pass her to go back to my car:

Me: “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.”

She laughs a bit since she, too, has a huge number of pieces for her costume, but she has managed to remember everything. Since her car was closer to the bathroom, she has agreed to let me store my street clothes, wig head, etc. in her car.

The parade goes by with me doing my Mozart laugh for a few miles and we get back to the staging area. I get changed back into my regular clothes, tell Stanzi that I’ll see her that evening for the show, and start toward my car with all of my clothes.

Then, I hear her calling me.

Constanze: “[MY NAME]! YOU FORGOT YOUR HEAD!”

I turn around to see her holding up my wig head.

Me: “IT WASN’T ATTACHED!”

I’m an intern at a nuclear power plant. The group I’m with is about to start some work.

Group Leader: “All right, guys! Let’s go make history!”

Group Member: “Uh… no. That’s the opposite of what we want to do.”