(I’m the customer in this story. I am with my girlfriend and her sister checking out one of the many Halloween stores that just opened up. I have purple and blue hair, a snapback on, and facial piercings, and my arm is around my girlfriend’s shoulders. An older woman approaches me.)

Woman: *says something I don’t catch*

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Woman: “Women’s restroom?”

Me: “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t work here.”

Woman: *walks off*

(I didn’t realize until she left that she must have thought that the fact that I was wearing a lanyard meant I was working. It was a Batman lanyard with my girlfriend’s car keys on it.)

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(My cousin and I are getting ready to go camping together. We both have vacation plans for after camping.)

Me: “Hey, are you packed?”

Cousin: “Yeah, I’ve been packed for a while now.”

Me: “No, I mean for camping.”

Cousin: “Oh, that. No. Are you?”

Me: “No, I can’t even find my suitcase.”

Cousin: “Didn’t you tell me yesterday that you packed for your other trip?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Cousin: “Maybe that’s why you can’t find it.”

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(A coworker and I are planning on seeing the “Doctor Who” Fiftieth Anniversary Special. She’s out of the office today but has given me her cell phone number so that we can finalize our arrangements.)

Me: “Hey, this is [My Name]! I’m buying tickets now: standard or 3D?”

(A few seconds later, I realize that I transposed two digits in the phone number. I text again to apologize.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry! I have the wrong number.”

Stranger: “No problem. Have fun at the movie. And go for standard. 3D just isn’t quite worth the extra cost.”

Me: “But it’s Doctor Who! Thanks.”

Stranger: “Oh, well, then! Definitely, 3D! Spare no expense for Doctor Who!”

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(I’m highly articulate, but not especially emotional. This sometimes causes problems where I am misunderstood. My roommate and good friend has recently related to me that she had been uncertain whether or not we were friends until one evening, when it came to her like a revelation.)

Roommate: “We had chatted for a while and hung out together. It wasn’t until that one night when you were off work earlier than I was, but you stayed after to talk to me until I was done working. Then I knew that we were friends.”

(This is a strange concept to me, as I had thought it was more obvious who I did and did not like. One day, I am asked to drive a mutual friend to run an errand. This is a new friend, and we laugh and talk about things that we have in common. I later talk to my roommate about the trip.)

Me: “I really like [New Friend]. We should hang out more.”

Roommate: “Oh, good. I was just talking with [New Friend] about that. It seems she had no idea you guys were friends until you took her to run that errand, and you had a good time.”

(I may start issuing cards that say, “Congratulations! We are friends now!”)

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(I work at a geology museum. A woman and her son, who looks about five, walk in. The boy is entranced by the mammoths, dinosaurs, and marine reptile skeletons on display. The mother looks unimpressed, and is on the phone for most of her stay. Since the building is kept at a pleasant temperature, she drops her heavy coat off with me at the front desk. Later, I spot her heading for the exit.)

Me: “I hope you had a good time at our museum. Did you have any questions before you go?”

Mother: “I’m not interested in your stupid dinosaurs.”

(She heads for the elevator, which is around a corner. I assume she has her child waiting there, since I can’t see him in the rest of the museum. Three hours later, I see her son wandering around the displays, looking lost. I rush over to him.)

Me: “Hey, buddy. What are you doing here?”

Son: *in the most heartbroken voice ever* “Have you seen Mommy? I fell asleep.”

Me: “I saw her a little while ago, bud. Why don’t you have a seat over here? Do you have your mom’s phone number, or a way to contact her?”

(Fortunately, he has a list of emergency contact numbers in a tiny wallet. I call the one labeled ‘Mom’ in blue crayon, after giving him some paper and colored pencils.)

Mother: “Who is this?!”

Me: “This is [My Name], from [Museum]. We have—”

Mother: “You d*** well better ship me my coat, you b****! That’s a $500 coat, and I’m already on the other side of the state!”

Me: “You also left your son here, ma’am. And I don’t have a box in his size.”

Mother: *after a brief pause* “You son of a b****! You should have told me I left my kid behind! It’s going to take me five f****** hours to get back there!”

(I decided to end the call, and instead called the police department. The mother stormed in a little over four hours later, long after the museum was supposed to be closed. She had a nice long conversation with child-care services. Her son gave me a hug and thanked me for staying with him. I still have his drawing of a plesiosaur.)

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