(I am a very clumsy individual, and therefore fall down a lot. Since I fall so frequently, no one really pays attention to my trips, but I’ve had some really epic ones. I am walking down a flight of stairs, and I trip at the top. I proceed to have the slowest fall of my life. Everything is in slow motion as I roll down a flight of stairs. I reach out for the railing or people’s ankles, but everyone is just out of reach. Everyone stops and stares at me as I fall down. It isn’t until I am all the way on the ground level, laying on my back, that people realize that I wasn’t faking it.)

Random Student: “That was real?”

Me: “Yes, it was. Why would I fake falling down a flight of stairs?”

Random Student: “You just fell so slowly!”

(Hopefully, next time I fall down a flight of stairs, it’s not so slow, so I get help! I was all right, but was sore for a few days.)

(My brother is getting surgery since he broke his collarbone, and he requests to have a burger and chicken nuggets when he wakes. I go to get some near the end of the surgery.)

Cashier: “Hello. Welcome to [Fast Food Place]; how may I help you?

Me: “Hi, I would like a [burger], an order of five chicken nuggets, and a small fry.”

(The cashier nods and I pay and wait for my order. When they call my number, I am confused to find ten chicken nuggets squeezed into a five nugget box, as well as a large fry.)

Me: *goes back to cashier* “I think you may have confused my order and—” *giggling a little* “—there’s ten chicken nuggets in here and I ordered five.”

(I figure the fry is a mistake, but that the chicken nuggets mean someone is really stupid or really nice.)

Manager: *coming up behind the cashier* “Yes, I saw your hospital visitor tag, and you also seemed to look stressed, so I figured you were having a bad day and told them to give you extra. My best wishes to whoever is in the hospital. Have a good day, ma’am.”

(I smiled at them and thanked them numerous times before returning to my brother. He didn’t want the [burger] or chicken nuggets since he was feeling sick from the anaesthesia, but he ate every last fry and I shared the chicken nuggets with his nurse. Sometimes people do things for a reason and it’s not a mistake.)

(My mother passed away from cancer a few months ago. She and my six-year-old daughter were the best of friends, often getting into mischief together. Not long after, my daughter comes downstairs looking woebegone.)

Daughter: “Mummy, I don’t want to go to school today. I don’t feel well.”

Me: “Oh, sweetheart, that’s no good. What’s the matter?”

Daughter: “I’ve got cancer.”

Me: “You’ve got… how do you know, sweetie?”

Daughter: “I caught it off Grammie.”

Me: “Sweetie, cancer isn’t contagious. You can’t catch it off someone. Now look me in the eye and tell me honestly: do you really not feel well, or do you just not want to go to school?”

Daughter: “I… well… I don’t want to go to school.”

Me: “I thought so. Why did you say you had cancer?”

Daughter: “Because Grammie told me that the one good thing about having cancer meant she didn’t have to go anywhere if she didn’t feel like it. And I don’t feel like going to school!”

(Needless to say, my daughter and her “contagious cancer” were packed off to school as usual. She’s been “in remission” ever since!)

(My friend has taken ill, and has gotten a bit delirious as we are waiting for the ambulance. I have been rubbing her feet, and have felt her pulse on the top of her foot.)

Friend: *clutching at her chest, in a panicked voice* “[My Name], are you there?”

Me: “Yes, I’m here.”

Friend: “I can’t feel my heart!”

Me: “It’s all right; it’s there.”

Friend: “I can’t feel it; can you feel it? Put your hand here.”

(I don’t necessarily want to feel my friend’s chest.)

Me: “It’s all right; I felt it in your foot.”

Friend: “In my foot? Oh, good. I’m glad I didn’t lose it.”

(Since my mum is very progressive, I’ve been given a very in-depth Sex Ed talk, long before my school ever covers the topic. I’ve also been taught not to be embarrassed about it all, and to speak my mind if I feel unwell about anything. During the actual Sex Ed class in school, the very awkward teacher spends less than an hour giving us information, and then brings in some obviously sponsored “goodie bags” for all students; girls get a box full of tampons, pads, some acne treatment, and a razor, while boys also get razors and acne treatment, as well as deodorant and condoms.)

Me: “What does acne have to do with Sex Ed?”

Teacher: “We’ve discussed any kind of changes your body goes through during puberty, and obviously, acne is a big part of that.”

Me: “All right; that makes sense. But why do only boys get condoms?”

(By now, half the class is giggling.)

Male Classmate: “[My Name] wants condoms! Who you wanna f***, eh?”

Me: “We just now talked about how it’s important for both partners to care about safe sex! It’s not just the boys’ job to bring protection!”

Teacher: “All right, we’ve got some boxes for boys left over; you can have one if you want.”

(Cue “[My Name] wants condoms!” being chanted from random classmates.)

Me: “It’s not about ME wanting condoms; it’s about the fact that you just taught us one thing and are now doing the exact opposite! It doesn’t make sense!”

Teacher: “You do have a point. Next time I’ll make sure condoms are included in both boxes. Are you happy now?”

(The class went on normally after that, but I was “Condom Girl” for about a month. At the same time, a few classmates came to me to ask questions they were too embarrassed to ask in class. What I didn’t know myself, I later asked my mum and transferred the info. In a way, my mum gave “The Talk” to about half my school year, just because she taught me to speak up about safe sex. Years later, I’m still the most educated on the topic in my group of friends, and have had to explain quite a few basic things to already sexually active adults.)