I work in a very share-and-share-alike-style office. We often bring in treats to share with the office, such as pies, muffins, cupcakes, etc. I’ve brought my fair share of things to share with the office, as well!

But… I really like cheesecake. And I find, during my break, a huge fourteen-inch cheesecake that’s on clearance for only $8. I buy it and put it in the work fridge, intending to take it home and share it with my family, who also like cheesecake.

The next thing I know, all of my coworkers are walking around with slices of cheesecake. I realize I forgot to put something that says, “Not for sharing,” on the cheesecake! I rush to the breakroom… and find that only one slice is left.

With a sigh, I eat it before anyone else can get to it.

Later, I hear someone asking around about it.

Coworker: “Who brought in the cheesecake?”

Me: “That was me.”

They handed me a thank-you card from most of the office for the cheesecake.

So… I’m frustrated, but simultaneously, it’s a somewhat warm, fuzzy feeling. I’m conflicted.

I’ve been sick for about a week and have gotten several scam calls during this period — all appearing to be from the same scam effort. As my condition declines, so too does my tolerance for bulls***, culminating in this call.

Scammer: “Hello, sir, this is Microsoft Tech Support. I’m calling to—”

Me: “Could I ask you to stop right there?”

Scammer: “Sir?”

I move the phone away from my mouth for a moment for a sneeze that leaves my ears ringing like a gunshot.

Scammer: “Gesundheit.”

Me: “Thank you. One question: are you allowed to hang up on someone if they’re being abusive?”

Scammer: “I… Yes, sir.”

Me: “Glad to hear it. Now, I know it’s a scam, and I’m sick of you f***ers wasting my time while I’m trying to R&R. How many of you guys do I have to call a**holes before you add me to the do-not-call list?”

Scammer: “…Good day, sir.” *click*

I stopped getting calls running that scam.

In Norway, we have something called the “russ celebration”. It’s to celebrate when we graduate high school and is generally just a bunch of young adults partying and behaving wildly.

While the celebrations have escalated wildly over the last couple of decades, costing enormous sums of money for decorated vehicles, stereo sets, and going to festivals, one of the longest-running traditions is that the “russ” have to participate in our Seventeenth of May parade; that’s our Constitution Day. That also means that, traditionally, the night before is the biggest party night. For our American readers, this whole thing kind of becomes like spring break and the Fourth of July all rolled up in one.

When I was a “russ”, I wasn’t drinking much; I was one of the people organizing the parties rather than getting hammered all the time. (The legal drinking age in Norway is eighteen.) Some of the guys teased me a bit over this, but I felt like I didn’t really need to be on the sauce all the time. Therefore, while we partied all through the night on the sixteenth of May, I stayed relatively sober while my classmates got drunker and drunker. At this point, some of them really started teasing, saying ironically how much of a shame it was that I had to organize things and leave the drinking to them.

On the morning of the seventeenth, just before the big parade was due to start, most of the guys were hungover, probably still drunk. Then, it occurred to them that in order to drive their special vehicles in the parade, they’d have to be sober!

Suddenly, the light drinker was very much sought-after as I could fulfil the role of stand-in designated driver.

I am working near our “touch” tide pool. A mother is there with her children.

Mother: *To me* “Would it be okay for my kid to pop one of the hermit crabs out of its shell so he can take the shell home?”

Me: “Uh… no, ma’am.”

Mother: “How disappointing.”

Me: “It would be even more disappointing for the crab!”

Me: “I don’t think I’ll be able to work on the site today; my dog just died.”

Client: “What’s that?”

Me: “My dog?”

Client: “You can just use my computer if you’d like.”

Me: “What? No, I need to go run an errand at the vet. My dog died.”

Client: “Oh! Hahahaha.”

Me: “…”

Client: “Sorry, I thought ‘DOG’ was just one of those techie acronyms you guys like to throw around. See you tomorrow.”