My goddaughter was eight at the time of this story. She was going for one of her scout badges, and it required that she run some sort of small commercial enterprise, like a bake sale or a lemonade stand.

She decides to be creative and make ‘hot coco-balls’. She buys chocolate molds, pours melted chocolate into them, fills them with cocoa powder (and sometimes marshmallows), and seals them. She then waits for them to dry, then decorates them with painted chocolate and sprinkles.

She’s been selling these balls, caramel apples, and cups of fresh milk from a stand. Her parents have asked me to take a look at her books for them because I’m an accountant, and her numbers don’t match up. 

The amount of cash she has brought in is much higher than her recorded sales, but her inventory hasn’t been dropping proportionally as though she were selling off the books. If this were a business, I’d suspect money laundering or that they were keeping a separate set of books for an illegal business in the basement. 

But I also notice another interesting detail: There are plenty of small bills in the till, and her parents have not reported frequently going to the bank to break larger bills. Most businesses quickly run out of small bills and need to break them. This gives me an idea of the likely cause.

So, I sit down with my goddaughter and ask very gently:

Me: “[Goddaughter], what are you doing when someone asks for change?”

Goddaughter: *Extremely sweetly.* “I say thank you for the tip, and smile at them until they stop asking.”

Mystery solved.

About two decades ago, in the mid-2000s, I acquired a young grey tabby tomcat named Max. He was about eight months old and infinitely curious. One thing he was especially curious about was the toilet.

I was young, bohemian, fresh out of college with a teaching degree, and had a beaded curtain as my bathroom door. I had no way to keep the cat out of the bathroom while I was trying to pee. The cat, for his part, thought it was fun getting in the way of my urine stream and forcing me to stop and start again.

Finally, I was fed up, and when the cat tried to get in my way, I didn’t stop peeing and just pissed all over the cat. He didn’t like that at all, and he ran off, splattering pee everywhere that I had to clean up later.

He never got in the way while I was peeing again.

Early the next morning, around 4 AM, two hours before my alarm to get ready for work (I taught math at a nearby grade school), I woke up to warm, wet fluid being sprayed all over my face. The cat, presumably in revenge, sprayed pee all over my face and my pillow.

I never peed on the cat again, either.

Two guys come in to pick up a MoneyGram, which we operate at a desk inside our larger store. One of them shows a California license.

Me: “What brings you all the way to Iowa?”

Customer: “I’m on the run from the law.”

I laugh at the joke, finish the transaction, and they leave. 

About ten minutes later, a man in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts cuts straight to the front of the line and sets a badge on the counter.

Marshall: “U.S. Marshal. I need to ask you something.”

Me: “Oh. Uh… okay.”

He asks about the guys picking up the MoneyGram. I tell him about the guy with the California ID.

Me: “He said he was on the run from the law.”

Marshall: “He actually told you that?!”

Me: “I thought he was joking!”

They pull me aside to meet with the store manager and explain they’ll be arresting the guys, who, as it happens, are still in the store.

Marshall: “We’ll get them as soon as they leave the store.”

Me: “Can I watch?”

Marshall: “Sure, why not.”

Manager: “Nope. Get your a** back to work.”

Sadly, I didn’t get to see anything, but it sure sounded dramatic!

CONTENT WARNING: Mention of animal death, medical gore.

I’m a vet tech. I took off work early one day to go meet up with some friends and acquaintances to celebrate my friend’s and his boyfriend’s engagement. Unfortunately, I was a bit later than planned getting out of work. I texted everyone as soon as I clocked out to let them know I’d be late. I should note here that they all know I work in vet med and that I took time off for the party.

After I got there, one acquaintance was lecturing me over and over and over about how I was late, how disrespectful and irresponsible it was, how it showed I don’t care, etc. She brought it up multiple times, even after people had changed the subject, and others (including the newly-engaged friend and his fiancée) had asked her to stop. She also had a history of lecturing me specifically for every perceived slight or mess-up. I finally hit my breaking point, interrupted her, and unloaded on her (not an exact quote, but the gist):

Me: “I would’ve loved nothing more than to be here on time. Unfortunately for everyone, we had an emergency come in right before I was supposed to leave. The patient had a seizure at home, fell on some construction equipment, and cut himself open. So I was busy holding this dog whose intestines had fully eviscerated through his abdomen, and who was actively seizing right up until he bled out and died in my arms.”

Me: “And of course I was completely soaked in his blood, so I couldn’t just change into the clothes I’d brought with me – I had to go home and shower before coming. I really, really, thought about just cancelling and going to sleep, but I still came because I said I would and I wanted to celebrate [friend and his fiancée] and spend time with friends.”

Me: “I said sorry when I texted I’d be late and again when I first got here. So, I’d appreciate it if you’d shut up and give me some f****** grace. God d***.”

She barely said a word to me the rest of the night and sent me an apology text the next day. I felt bad after the fact for going off on her and souring the mood for a bit, but I can’t deny that it was satisfying.

My sister and I were on a road trip from Illinois to Montana, and we made our first gas stop in Iowa. We freshened up and got some food for our first night camping, and when we got back in the truck, she put the keys in. We were about to get back underway when…

Sister: “Huh. The check engine light is on.”

She then put it in gear.

Sister: “Oh f***, it’s seized up!”

She tried some more, and she discovered that the steering was locked too.

Sister: *In defeat.* “Well, we’re f***ed. We live here now.”

Me: “Did… did you even turn the keys?”

She gives me this look…  and then realizes she forgot to turn the friggin’ ignition!

We laughed until we cried, and every couple of days, one of us asks if the other remembers when she forgot to start the truck and immediately gave up.