(A few weeks ago, my 17-year-old son totaled his car. Today, I received an automated call from the dealership, reminding us that the car was past due for an oil change and tire rotation. I call them back to explain that the car has been totaled and that they need to remove our number from that system.)

Me: “Hi, I just received a call stating that we need to bring the car in for service.”

Dealership: “Okay, we can schedule you for next Tuesday. How’s 9:00?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, but the car was totaled in an accident. We don’t need service on it anymore.”

Dealership: “All cars need service, ma’am, to ensure they run properly and to keep your warranty valid.”

Me: “You’re not listening to me. The car was totaled. It’s dead. It doesn’t need service anymore.”

Dealership: “I can probably fit you in on Friday at 2:00, but you may need to wait.”

Me: “Again, you’re not listening. The car is dead. It was hauled off to the junkyard. It will never need servicing again. I’d like you to remove us from the calling list since we no longer own the car.”

Dealership: “You don’t own the car?”

Me: “Not anymore.”

Dealership: *long pause* “Who did you sell it to? We can arrange service for them.”

Me: *trying to remain calm* “We didn’t sell it. It was totaled in an accident. Do you know what ‘totaled’ means?”

Dealership: “I—”

Me: “It’s dead. It was in a fatal accident. The entire right side was smashed up and a wheel fell off. The insurance company officially totaled the car, and it’s now in a junkyard. Why is that so hard for you to understand? We no longer own the car and we don’t need to receive any more maintenance reminder calls.”

(She finally gets the message, and takes down my name and the vehicle type.)

Dealership: “Can I get your phone number in case someone needs to call you back?”

Me: “What for? The car’s dead. Stop calling us to schedule maintenance. There’s no need for anyone to call us back for anything.”

(I had never before been in a situation where I felt the desire to start quoting Monty Python’s Dead Parrot sketch, but if she couldn’t understand what it means to call a car dead or totaled, she certainly wouldn’t have understood if I started calling it an “ex-car.”)

(I’ve been having awful pains for months now. I keep bringing it up to my family doctor, who passes it off as period cramps, as I’m a twenty-something female. I finally talk him into looking into it more, and he says it might be a kidney stone. I get referred to a urologist, all while being told, “I still think it’s period cramps.” I go in for my first visit after taking an x-ray.)

New Doctor: “Okay, so, where is your pain at?”

Me: “It’s mostly on my right side, a little bit higher up.”

(He looks at where I’m pointing, then at some paperwork. He shuffles through it a bit.)

New Doctor: “Okay, yeah. You have a kidney stone. It’s a good-sized one, too. We’re going to get some more images of it to confirm size and position before we talk about how to deal with it. Any questions about that?”

Me: “I… don’t think so. You’re sure it’s a kidney stone?”

New Doctor: “Unless you have a frozen pea in your urinary tract, it’s a stone.”

(I ended up having surgery, and passed it all with no problem. My family doctor never blamed pain on period cramps again.)

Caller: “Is eight digits okay for my password?”

Me: “Yes, it only has to be six.”

Caller: “Is nine okay?”

Me: “Yes… It only has to be six.”

Caller: “Okay, I used all caps; is that okay?”

Me: “No, there needs to be at least one lower case, and one upper case.”

Caller: “Okay… I used all lowercase. That’s all right, then?”

Me: “No… There needs to be at least one lowercase and at least one uppercase letter.”

Caller: “Okay, but is all lowercase okay?”

Me: “Sir, no… Would you like me to just have a form mailed out to you?”

(At age 16, I am volunteering for the first time at a concession stand at a college football game to raise money for my church. Directly above the stand, a large sign says, “SNOW CONES $6 CASH ONLY.” Two guys in their twenties, apparently tipsy, come up to the stand.)

Me: “Welcome to [University] Stadium! How can I help you?”

Customer: “Do you have beer?”

Me: “Sorry, but we only sell snow cones.”

Customer: “What? Where can I get beer?”

Me: “No alcohol is sold in the stadium, sir.”

Customer: “You’re f****** kidding me! Since when?”

Me: “As long as I know of.”

Customer: “Are you sure? You don’t have beer?!”

Me: “Quite sure. Would you like a snow cone?”

Customer: “I guess so. How much?”

Me: “Six dollars.”

Customer: “That’s so much!” *looks through his wallet* “Can I have it for five?”

Me: “Sorry, we can’t change the prices.”

(The customer hands me a credit card.)

Me: “Sorry, but the stands on this level are cash only. However, credit cards are accepted at stands on the ground floor.”

Customer: *to his friend* “What the f***?” *they start walking away*

Me: “Sorry for the inconvenience. Enjoy the game!”

Customer: “Are you sure you don’t have beer?”

(I have a student I am seriously trying to help at school, but she has been very difficult so far. This is not because she is a bad person, but because she is lazy and doesn’t seem to understand basic concepts. In this case, I am taking care of the group while they work on a social studies evaluation.)

Me: *sees her paper* “[Student], sorry, you have a mistake here. Look. The instructions are to draw an X on the correct answer. So, on the question, ‘Which way does the Sun come out? East, South, or West?’ Just choose one.”

Student: *looks at her paper where she wrote “North” under the other options, then at me* “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, look, let me erase this. So, is it… East, South, or West?”

Student: *grabs her pencil slowly and writes “North” in the same place again*

Me: *wanting desperately to bang my head on the floor* “[Student], listen. Choose one. You don’t need to add options; just draw an X on one of these.”

(I erase “North” again.)

Student: “Yes.”

Me: “[Student], every other question you have drawn an X on, without problem. Just listen… I’ll give you a hint: the answer is not North.”

(I noticed the student seemed to be thinking, so I moved on to another kid. After a while, she called me because she didn’t understand another question. Out of curiosity, I checked the question that was driving me crazy. She wrote, “North.” She also failed that exam. Between me and another coworker, we managed to prepare her for third grade, but it took too much effort on our part, and she only just managed. We had her tested, but got no relevant result. I still worry about her sometimes.)

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