(My uncle has some work-related back pains for which his GP refers him to a physical therapist. The therapy he needs is pretty painful, so when he comes home from a session one day saying the therapist has gotten him good, his wife — my aunt — thinks nothing of it and goes out running errands. When she gets home after a few hours and calls to my uncle to help her with the groceries, she notices he’s moving very carefully, wincing, and not breathing well. When she asks what’s wrong, my uncle tells her his ribs on one side have been hurting bad since therapy, and it isn’t getting better despite taking some painkillers. My aunt gently prods his ribs, eliciting a yelp. Knowing my uncle is pretty tough, my aunt gets worried and pulls up his shirt, uncovering a HUGE blossoming bruise on one side of his back. My aunt freaks out and orders my uncle to get in the car NOW because they’re going to the hospital. On the way there, she gives my uncle the third degree: What did he do? Did he fall? Did he get into a fight? What is he hiding from her? My uncle swears nothing happened; he went to therapy and came back, his ribs have been hurting since, and that’s that. The doctor at the hospital takes one look at the bruise and orders an x-ray, which reveals several BROKEN ribs. The doctor also interrogates my uncle, but gets the same response: all he did was go to physical therapy for his back pains.)

ER Doctor: “Did the therapist work on your ribs as well?”

Uncle: “Well, yes. Wait, are you saying…?”

ER Doctor: “That you should get a different therapist? Yes.”

(My uncle made a full recovery and got a different therapist who cured his back pains. The therapist who broke his ribs is still in practice and also coaches a youth sports team. I was on that team for several years and now hate sports. The guy received a Royal Ribbon for his investment in youth sports.)

Friend: “Can I try something with you?”

Me: “What is it?”

(She grabs my arm and I pull back. I see something shiny in her hand and lean away from her as much as I can.)

Me: “What the h*** are you doing?!”

Friend: “I wanted to poke you with a needle.”

Me: “WHY?!”

Friend: “Because I read that gay people have an autonomic response that stops them bleeding.”

Me: “Where the h*** did you read that, 4chan?!”

Friend: “Yahoo.”

Me: “Well, it’s wrong. Completely wrong!”

(She tried to convince me to do it, but I flat out refused and moved to another seat. There were two other gay people in our lecture that we both knew about. I heard one of them yelp a few minutes later. I wish I was joking…)

(For the past few months, I have been having heavy periods and horrific pain, so bad that I ended up going to A&E twice in one week. Eventually, I get a gynaecology appointment, a month after my emergency trips, though at a hospital I have never been to. However, it is the earliest available date and I need it. After a few questions…)

Doctor: “Do you use birth control?”

Me: “No. I’ve never had sex. It causes me so much pain that I have to stop immediately. I can’t even have physical examinations, because the smallest equipment hurts so much.”

Doctor: “Is there any chance that you are pregnant?”

Me: “…”

(I’m now waiting for another appointment to pop up.)

(Our manager is taken sick at work and we have to call an ambulance. As a result, we’re closing early. Although we’ve put signs up, no one reads them, so I am standing at the door asking people not to come inside. Our shop is in the same building as a bookshop, which is remaining open.)

Me: “Sorry, guys, we’re closing early today, due to our manager being unwell.”

Customer: “I just want a hot chocolate.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we’re closing, and all the machines are being turned off.”

(As she is launching into a rant, the ambulance pulls up and paramedics go inside.)

Customer: “But I want a hot chocolate! No one else sells this hot chocolate! Can’t you just pour out some you’ve already made?”

Me: “We don’t have any made up right now; everything has been cleared away.”

(She looks at the sign, which says the bookshop is remaining open.)

Customer: “Where is [Bookshop] then?”

Me: “It’s just next door.”

(She peers through the door at the displays.)

Customer: “Oh. I thought you were trying to help me find another cafe. The least you could do is put a sign up.”

(She walked away in a huff, and people kept coming to the door and asking why we were closed, even whilst they could see the paramedics inside!)

(My little sister is sick and I’ve been asked to watch her. Her medicine has the effect of making the user a bit high. I put on one of her favorite shows and start texting my friends. Suddenly I hear the shatter of glass.)

Sister: “BEGONE YE WINDOW!”

(She had jumped through or glass door. She has a huge piece of glass stuck in her arm.)

Me: “Oh, my God! Stay still! Why the heck did you do that?!”

(She remains quiet as I pull out the glass shard and bandage her arm. She smiles brightly when I’m done.)

Sister: “Well, you know us werewolves. We can’t stand glass.”

Me: “…I think you need to lay down and stop watching YouTube for a while.”