(Overheard conversation in the library between two grade-eight students from a class I’m covering.)

Kid #1: “I met my new neighbours yesterday. They’re from a place near Saudi Arabia that starts with a G.”

Kid #2: “Ghana?”

Kid #1: “Ghana? Oh, ya, that must be it!”

Me: “I think it’s Qatar. It’s pronounced with a G.”

Kid #1: “Are you sure it’s not Ghana? You’re not the geography teacher.”

Me: “Kid, if it’s Ghana I will not make you do your final exam.”

(It was Qatar by the way; the kid told me the next day.)

(Some backstory: Here were provide customer service for store credit cards. We have a website that allows customers to access their account and to make payments. For a payment to post the same day it has to be scheduled before 6:00 pm Eastern time. It is it currently 6:30 pm Eastern time. This customer is from California.)

Customer: “So, I was making my payment online and it gave me a weird message I don’t understand.”

Me: “Well, we do have a cut-off time for a same day payment online of 6:00 pm Eastern time. It is currently 6:30 pm Eastern time.”

Customer: “That’s what I don’t understand.”

Me: “The cut-off time? That’s the latest you can make a payment and have it post that same day.”

Customer: “No, I get that; it’s the other part, the Eastern time. What does that mean?”

Me: “Eastern time? Our cut-off time is based on the time in the Eastern time zone.”

Customer: “Yeah, what’s that? It’s 3:30 right now.”

Me: “Time zones? Uh, well, you see the Earth is round so different parts of the world are at a different time. It is 3:30 on the West Coast but on the East Coast it is currently 6:30.”

Customer: “Wow, so you’re saying it’s night time where you are?”

Me: “Yes.”

(I could hear the woman’s mind being blown over the phone.)

(My dad posts this on a hiking page for the local national park on Facebook:)

Dad: “Quick question. How far is it from mile marker 50 to mile marker 51?”

(Cue dozens of responses in the vein of “Seriously?” and “One mile.”)

Dad: “I wasn’t drunk, nor was I delusional, when I asked. Crazy? That’s for others to decide. It is approx 8/10ths of a mile between those two mile markers.”

(He then went on to explain that at one point, the road had been shortened by cutting out a loop in the road to create more parking for one of the hiking trails. Rather than move the next 55 mile markers by 2/10ths of a mile, they left that one short.)

(I have been living in Texas for about five years, whereas my coworker has lived here most of her life, only having moved away once for about ten years, then moving back. This is a conversation we had when she was trying to get information on a new client.)

Coworker: “Where is Texas Tech?”

Me: “Texas.”

Coworker: *while laughing* “I know that. Smart-a**.”

Me: “I’ll Google it for you.” *I pull it up* “It’s in Lubbock.”

Coworker: “That’s really far north. Isn’t it?”

Me: “I have no idea.”

Coworker: “How long have you lived in Texas?”

Me: “How long have you lived in Texas?”

(I am at a business conference. The dinner for the conference that night is at a restaurant. Because the conference is paying for drinks, they are carding at the door. I’m Mormon, and therefore don’t drink. I’m not familiar with how these types of places work — since I don’t drink, I don’t frequent them — and I do bear some responsibility for not knowing how carding procedures work. In line, I step up to him.)

Door Guy: “Do you have ID?”

Me: “I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “Doesn’t matter. The drinks are generally available in the layout, so everyone needs ID.”

Me: “Oh. I’m 25. Let me dig out my license.”

Door Guy: “You should have had it ready!”

Me: “I apologize. As I said, I don’t drink. I didn’t know you needed them for everyone.”

Door Guy: “You should have known!”

Me: “I’m sorry; I don’t drink, so I don’t know how this works.”

Door Guy: *scoffs* “Sure you don’t drink! You were hoping I’d let you through without ID because of that.”

Me: *showing him my license* “Here it is. See, I’m 25.”

Door Guy: “That’s a fake.”

Me: “No, it’s not.”

Door Guy: “Utah is the easiest state to fake their licenses. That’s a fake.”

Me: “Or I just live in Utah.”

Door Guy: “You tried to get out of showing ID, and then you give me the most faked state.”

Me: “I really am sorry that I didn’t have it ready. I didn’t know, because I don’t usually have this situation as I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “People don’t just not drink.”

Me: “It’s for religious reasons. I’m Mormon.”

Door Guy: “A likely story.”

Me: “No, really.”

(Not sure what else to do, I hold up my hand which has a CTR ring, a common Mormon jewelry. Though generally only worn by Mormons, there’s no reason that someone else couldn’t wear one. It’s a bit like a Jew wearing a Star of David. There’s no reason someone else couldn’t wear one, but there’s no reason they would. The door guy looks at my hand.)

Door Guy: “Oh, you really are. Come on in!”

(I’m still not sure why he doubted the valid ID, but wearing a ring? Proof!)