My friend was born in America but his family is from Saudi Arabia. His cousin, who is visiting our school, knows English but struggles with some words.
Cousin: “Can I have a thing of paper? I forgot how to say.”
Me: “You can say, ‘a piece of paper,’ or, ‘a sheet of paper.’”
Later that day…
Cousin: “Please can I have a piece of sheet?”
I am in the store picking up a couple of things. Unfortunately, I have a huge headache when this happens, to the point where I’m just kind of out of it. There are three types of carts: a mini one, which is obviously far easier for light shoppers to use, the regular-sized one, and a wide one for bulk shoppers. I am using the only mini one I could find in the cart bay.
After I pay, I come out to the cart bay to return my cart. I notice a female standing there who sees my cart and waits for me to get my stuff so she can take it. For some reason, I do not notice the man pulling a regular-sized cart from the bay, noticing my mini cart, and gently pushing the regular cart away to get mine as well. I do notice, however, when I remove my things and he grabs the end of the mini cart. I was planning on giving it to the woman who saw it first, and it takes me a moment to realize this.
I look up at him, and in a confused and slightly irritated tone, I speak up.
Me: “Excuse me, what are you doing? This woman obviously saw the cart first. I’m giving it to her.”
A heartbeat of silence passes between all three of us before the man and woman start laughing. My face contorts in confusion, which the woman notices, and she grabs the man’s hand.
Woman: “Oh, honey, it’s okay. He’s my husband.” *Chuckling* “But thank you very much for sticking up for me over a silly cart.”
I turn bright red and start stammering.
Me: “Oh, my God, I am sorry! I have a headache and I am so out of it; I am so sorry!”
They laugh lightheartedly and shake their heads.
Man: “Don’t be sorry; it’s okay.”
They then took the cart and walked into the store. Apparently, I made their day. Me, on the other hand, well… I’m sure I’ll lie in bed at three am in the future and my brain will suddenly remember this embarrassment.
Related:
Making A Cart-felt Plea
It is 2005 and I am volunteering as an Assistant Scoutmaster for a Boy Scout troop. While we are at a summer camp, I am walking with one of the eleven-year-old first-year scouts. I am nineteen but I guess at his age, that seems really old.
Scout: “Mr. [My Name], do you remember the moon landing?”
Me: “Uh… that happened seventeen years before I was born, [Scout].”
Scout: “Oh.”
My friends buy what looks like a silly board game simulating an escape from the Titanic and we sit down to play. To progress through the three levels of a ship, the players must land on specific spaces in each level. Each player also starts with a bellhop token that can be used to gain certain benefits and can be acquired by other players if they land on your space. The approximate playtime is ninety minutes. Simple, right?
Nope! Due to questionable game design and terrible luck with die rolls, in four hours, only three people have progressed to level three, two of whom have acquired all the bellhop tokens, and two players are stuck on level two. Then, the person who has the best chance of winning and ending this torment for us all lands on a square that sends them back to level one.
Player On Level One: “That’s it! I’m done!”
The player rolls high enough to move to a space on a game board next to a porthole.
Player On Level One: “I jump out the porthole.”
[Players On Level Two] also roll high enough to move to the side of the board.
Players On Level Two: “So do we!”
[Players On Level Three] don’t bother rolling.
Players On Level Three: “We lash our bellhops together into a raft and jump off the ship!”
And that’s how five stubborn adults rage-quit a children’s board game.
In July, both my wife and I contract the illness the health crisis is centered on, and we are taken to the local hospital. However, because I have complications, it is decided that I need to be transferred to a larger hospital with a pulmonologist available.
I am transferred by ambulance to the bigger hospital where there are staff waiting to admit me. I am on a stretcher with various medical staff around me. There is one nurse doing transfer paperwork for me.
Nurse: “So, do you prefer to be called Dave or David?”
This question has me puzzled.
Me: “My name is John!
Nurse: “Oops, I really must check the paperwork properly!”
