(I am a 20-year-old man. My girlfriend has been asking me to take a picture with Santa Claus at the mall. Keep in mind, she is a 21-year-old actress and is eagerly waiting for her job offer to perform on the Disney Cruise.)

Santa: “And what would you like for Christmas, young lady?”

Girlfriend: “A performing job on the Disney Cruise!”

Santa: “That’s quite original. What role would you play?”

Girlfriend: “Ariel, the mermaid!”

Santa: “How about you young man? What would you like for Christmas?”

Me: “To be honest… an Iphone.”

Santa: *sensing how excited my girlfriend is about her gift request* “Are you sure you wouldn’t want something else? Say… being her Prince Eric?”

Me: “Probably an iPhone–” *feeling a kick from my girlfriend* “–Prince Eric would be fantastic. I’d love that.”

Santa: “That’s better. Good luck to you young lady, and Merry Christmas!”

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(It’s Christmas season, so the mall is jam-packed. I’m driving away from the bank which is not attached to the mall, but uses the same roads as the rest of the mall. Ahead of me is a car with two young ladies. Ahead of them, in the intersection, is a long-suffering police officer. Because of the heavy seasonal traffic he’s directing cars. At the bank’s driveway, also due to the seasonal traffic, cars are only allowed to turn right. There is a sign that states this quite clearly.)

Young Lady Driver: *turns on left turn signal*

Police Officer: *shakes his head and gestures right*

Young Lady Driver: *gestures left*

Police Officer: *shakes his head, points to sign, and gestures right*

Young Lady Driver: *gestures left*

Police Officer: *shakes his head, gestures right, and starts looking incredibly tired*

Young Lady Driver: *angrily gestures left*

Me: *HOOOOOOOONK*

Young Lady Driver: *turns right*

Police Officer: *smiles and waves at me*

Me: *waves back and turns right*

(I have just turned two years old. My little brother was born about a month before. We are visiting Santa.)

Santa: “Hello, little girl! What do you want for Christmas?”

Me: “Do you have a penis?”

Santa: *to my mom* “Did she just ask what I think she did?”

Mom: “Her little brother was just born. She learned the difference between boys and girls. She wants to know if you’re a boy or a girl.”

Santa: “Oh! I’m a boy.”

(I am working on a till in the run-up to Christmas. I’m 20, but I look a bit younger. A customer and I have been chatting about her plans for the day ahead.)

Customer: “Do you work here full-time?”

Me: “No. I’m actually only on contract for eight hours per week, but I’m doing about thirty at the moment, with Christmas coming up.”

Customer: “Oh. I don’t know about all that. I say to my children, they’re about your age, I think you’re old enough to know by now—” *drops into a stage whisper* “—there’s no Father Christmas. Thank you. Have a nice day!”

(When the customer is gone, my supervisor comes over.)

Supervisor: “You look like you’re in shock. What happened?”

Me: “She told me Santa’s not real…”

(My family and I are in a candle shop in the local mall around Christmas time. I am about 14.)

Dad: “Hey, come and smell this candle!”

(I walk over to where he is standing, and sniff the candle he is holding in his hand. It has a rather sharp, rank smell to it, and I look at him with a rather disgusted look on my face.)

Dad: “Smells like pot doesn’t it?”

Me: “Yes, kind of interesting for a Christmas candle.”

Dad: “Wait. How do you know what it smells like?”

(I only know the smell because someone that rode my bus had some, and as I had never seen the stuff before, he offered to let me smell it.)

Me: “Well… wait, how do you know? That isn’t grass on that plate in the family photo album is it?”

Dad: “I don’t know what you are talking about!”