I have started a new job and am receiving logins for various computer programs. One requires me to provide answers to security questions in case I forget my password.

I pick a question: “What is your favourite colour?” I type, “Blue.”

“Your answer must be at least five characters.” 

So, for a question you’re supposed to give an answer to that you’ll remember, answers including “Red,” “Pink,” or “Blue” are not allowed. Other questions were “Mother’s maiden name” and “Favourite cousin” — let’s hope your favourite isn’t Jane or Max!

(As I pull up to the bowser at a petrol station, I notice a dark-haired woman in her 30s at the next bowser talking on her phone as she finishes filling up. When I finish and go to pay she is at the counter. There is another customer behind her, and then there is me.)

Attendant: *talking to [Customer #1]* “You are not allowed to use your phone when filling up or around the bowsers.”

Customer #1: “Oh, why not?”

Attendant: “It is dangerous, and if my boss sees you doing it, I can get in a lot of trouble, and so can you.”

Customer #1: “Why is it dangerous?”

(The attendant goes on to explain how a spark from the phone could cause an explosion, and there are signs at all the bowsers warning people not to use their phones. [Customer #1] suddenly sounds concerned and remorseful.)

Customer #1: “Oh, dear, I’m terribly sorry; I won’t do it again.”

(She then picks up her phone she had put on the counter — still connected to a call — puts it to her ear, and carries on with her conversation.)

Customer #1: “Did you hear that? Using a phone at the petrol station is dangerous!”

(She continued to talk on the phone as she got to her car and drove off. [Customer #2], the attendant, and I all looked at each other dumbfounded.)

Customer: “Hi, I was looking for some white jeans.”

Me: “Sure! We have these ones over here except they’re a little cropped. We did have more but they went on sale and we are sold out here at the moment.”

Customer: “Oh, no, these are too white.”

Me: “Uh, okay, I can show you other white pants we have, but they aren’t jeans.”

(Five minutes after showing all the white pants we have:)

Customer: “So, you don’t have any white jeans?”

Me: *mental facepalm*

Me: *picking up phone* “Hi, welcome to [Solar Installation Company]. I’m [My Name]; how may I direct your call?”

Caller: “Yes, well we got solar panels installed by you lot seven years ago, and now the [component] isn’t working, and it’s not fair that it’s out of warranty. Who can I speak to?!”

Me: *pause* “Miss, I’m very sorry, but the [component] is only covered by a five-year manufacturer’s warranty—”

Woman: “But it’s not fair! Can’t you do anything for me?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but no; it’s the standard warranty and practice for [component].”

Woman: “BUT IT’S NOT FAIR!”

Me: *head-desk and sighing*

My mum was on a train with my niece, her granddaughter, who was about six at time. A man got on who was wearing a medieval jester costume with a life-sized sword and shield. He was nice enough to let my mum take a photo while he posed, so I got to see myself how impressively realistic his costume was.

My mum is by nature an extremely friendly person and started chatting with him, and he enthusiastically told her about how he was a dragon slayer off to a renaissance fair.

During the time they talked, which was only around five or ten minutes, whenever my mum looked at my niece she was exactly the same: leaning right back in her seat, wide-eyed, silently staring at him, white as a ghost. Any attempt at engaging her was a lost cause for that train ride. You know those stories about children excited to meet someone from a fairy tale? Not this kid.

Mum later explained to me that she realised my niece was so shocked because suddenly all the stories that she’d been told through books, movies, and storytimes had just become true. There was a jester with a sword and shield catching the morning train and he was off to slay a dragon? There was going to be a whole fair of medieval people doing medieval things in Melbourne? She just couldn’t handle how real it had all become.

A couple of weeks later while with her again, my mum tried to explain, “You know that man was just dressed up to pretend and play? He wasn’t actually a dragon slayer.”

In the most despondent voice, she replied, “I don’t believe you.”