(I am ten. My grandfather has cancer, and is dying. I am facing the true scope of mortality for the first time, and am deeply upset. One night, I stay up sobbing because I’m so terrified of death. My mother is trying her best to comfort me, but it’s not really working. She’s just saying anything that pops into her head at this point.)

Mom: “Sweetie, it’s okay! It doesn’t happen until the very end of your life!”

Me: “Oh. Okay.”

(I then calmly lay down and went to sleep.)

(I have an unusual allergy that is very severe. I discovered in second grade that I was allergic to oil pastels, and have since realized that my allergy is airborne if people use the pastels around me. The unlikeliness of the allergy and the severity of it often lead people to believe it’s fake. However, this instance really takes the cake. Keep in mind that this person is a friend of mine that I have repeatedly talked to about my allergy.)

Me: “Man, I was really upset in physics today.”

Friend: “Why?”

Me: “Someone moved the pastel picture and set it on a counter next to my seat. I wish I knew who it was. I might have gotten some pastel on me!”

Friend: “Ha ha, yeah. That’d be pretty annoying.”

Me: “I mean, they might have just not known, but I’m still pretty frustrated. I would have put it back where it was, except, you know, I might have died.”

Friend: *pauses for a moment* “Oh, I get it! You mean like dying from being annoyed!”

Me: “No, I mean that, if left too long on my skin, my throat would close and I could die. Haven’t I told you this, like, three separate times?”

Friend: “Oh, yeah…”

(Boy, am I glad that he’s not in art class.)

(A female coworker has been going to the toilet frequently all day, for obvious reasons. One manager in our department has taken notice, and has been moaning about her every time she excuses herself.)

Manager: “The second she leaves, I’m confronting her. She’s obviously smoking.”

Me: “I can’t assure you, she isn’t.”

Manager: “All right, what is she doing, then?”

(Most of the department looks at him, including most of the men. He does a hand gesture which implies, “Well?”)

Me: *having lost my patience* “Well, firstly: she doesn’t smoke. And secondly: you know how women don’t have penises?”

Manager: *confused* “Yes?”

Me: “And how we ovulate once a month?”

Manager: *penny finally dropping* “Oh…” *walks away*

(A day later, the department manager brings me into her office with [Manager], to talk about how I was “unreasonably rude” to him. He has neglected to mention the topic, however. We start arguing.)

Department Manager: “Enough! I can’t understand a word either of you are saying. What is all of this even about?”

Me: “[Manager] didn’t know why [Coworker] has been going to the bathroom a lot.”

(She looks at him, bewildered.)

Department Manager: “Would you like me to draw you a picture?”

(He blushes and runs out of her office. After explaining a bit more to her, we both agree I could have handled the situation better, but she sees no reason to escalate it further unless [Manager] wants to — he doesn’t. Before I leave, she has this to say.)

Department Manager: “At every work do, he complains about how he’s never able to get a girlfriend. After this, I can understand why!”

(My mother has recently had both knees replaced, and is taking a while to heal. She’s able to walk, but when she knows she’ll be doing something that requires a lengthy amount of time on her feet, she prefers to use her personal motorized scooter. I have agreed to go shopping with her two months after her surgery, so I can push the cart for her. We have just finished checking out when she decides to visit the bathroom.)

Mom: “[My Name], sit in my chair while I’m gone.”

Me: “Why? I can watch the chair and the basket at the same time while sitting on the bench.”

Mom: “Just trust me. Sit on it. Otherwise, someone will try to take it.”

(Her chair doesn’t have a basket or the store’s logo anywhere on it, so it shouldn’t be mistaken for one of their carts, which is designed completely different from hers. However, I sit on it, and not even a minute goes by before I am approached.)

Woman: “I didn’t know lazy was a handicap. Get up; I need that cart.”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m not getting up. The store’s carts are at the front, with the buggies.”

Woman: “They’re all out. Get up. Looks like you’ve checked out already, anyway. Your fat a** can walk your buggy out of here.”

Me: “This is my mother’s personal scooter. F*** off.”

Woman: “B****, get your stupid, fat, lazy a** off! Before I get a manager!”

Me: “Okay, A: I don’t work here. B: This belongs to my mother. C: If we’re going to judge someone by looks alone, you seem to have walked around the store well enough by yourself to come all the way in from one side to the other, just to yell at me. You are not getting this chair!”

(My mother came out of the bathroom and, when I got up to let her sit back down, the other woman tried to sit in it. My mother yelled at her angrily, “Get out of my chair, you hag! I just had double knee replacement surgery!” It shocked the woman enough to hop out of the chair and scurry off. I still don’t understand why she was rude and trying to take a chair that didn’t belong to the store.)

(I heard someone tell this story on why they’re out of work. I don’t remember the exact words, so this is paraphrasing.)

Person: “He was sick, and was forced to work. His boss took him aside and proceeded to berate him. Because he was so sick, he threw up on his boss. After that he said, ‘That’s my resignation,’ and he quit.”