(In the days of travel agents, my father has to fly to Canada for business.)
Dad: “I asked you to book me on a flight to Vancouver, but you booked me to Toronto.”
Agent: “Couldn’t you just fly to Toronto and take a cab to Vancouver?”
Dad: “That’s on the other side of Canada. I’m actually closer to Vancouver now than I would be in Toronto.”
Agent: “Let me just change that ticket for you.”
(I’m a cashier at a store that is known for saving more money the more you shop. Just yesterday, I had a regular come in with her WIC checks. No big deal. I love doing WIC. It’s simple, and it makes a**holes behind them go to other registers. I’m on her final check before her EBT things, waiting for the printer to finish, when a coworker goes to the register behind mine for a roll of “paid for” stickers.)
Coworker: “Hey, how are you?”
Me: “Oh, same stuff, different day.”
(I laugh and turn back to my printer. I finally finish the transaction and hand my customer the receipt. She takes her three kids and goes to bag their things. As I’m ringing up my next customer, I hear:)
Customer: “When I was a cashier, I knew when to shut the f*** up and do my d*** job.”
(I’m holding back tears as I serve customer after customer, my retail smile hiding how much that hurt. I take pride in my work, as low as it is, and as it is I had a mild fever and a funeral to go to the day after. As they leave, I hear:)
Customer: “I can’t wait to call the d*** manager.”
(Yeah. She never called. Screw you. See if you even get my fake smile next time.)
(When I am a kid, my family is watching the Disney movie “The Swiss Family Robinson.”)
Me: “So, where are they from? They’re not English.”
Dad: “Maybe France?”
Mom: “Germany? Or are they Dutch?”
(It took us an embarrassingly long time to figure it out.)
(When I am around eight, the Girl Scout camp near my house offers horseback riding lessons. As I’ve been to day camps before and had a fairly good time riding, my parents sign me up and take me for months. At this point, I’ve just become proficient enough to try galloping at my last lesson, and I’m excited to try again. This time, the instructors put me on a different horse, a stallion who has just arrived at the stable. I’ve ridden various horses over the course of my lessons, so I’m not particularly concerned as we start the warmups. However, after a few laps, the horse begins to stop every so often. I have to nudge him to start walking again, but a few feet later, he stops again. Finally, I voice my concerns to one of the instructors.)
Me: “I don’t think this horse is listening to me.”
Instructor: “You’re not being forceful enough. You can’t let the horse guide you. You’re in charge.”
Me: “But none of the other horses I’ve ridden have done this.”
Instructor: “Just keep trying.”
(I agree, and we continue with the lesson. The horse cooperates a little better, though he still seems to be fighting me. When we reach the galloping portion, he suddenly takes off running towards the open stable doors. We’re about a mile outside of town in the woods, and it’s a dark, cool night. Out of panic, I scream. Just before the horse reaches the doors, the instructors manage to grab the horse’s reigns and stop him. They take me off the horse, calm him down, and put him back in his stall. Afterward, they start to scold me while I’m still crying out of fright.)
Instructor: “You should never yell while on a horse! It frightens them!”
(Eventually, my mother stepped in to defend me, but I was so scared I don’t remember what she said. After I calmed down, the instructors and my mom convinced me to get on another horse to finish the lesson in hopes that I wouldn’t be scared of horses. Unfortunately, I was no longer interested in lessons, especially not with people who wouldn’t listen when I said something was off about the horse.)
(I work at an amusement park. It just finished raining heavily. I’m all alone at a teacup ride — one of the few rides open since it is still storming — when a group of teens approaches me.)
Teen: “Hey, are you open?”
Me: “Yes.”
Teen: “Can we ride?”
Me: “No.”
Teen: “Why not?”
Me: “You’re too tall.”
Teen: “We’ll pay you?”
Me: “No.”
Teen: “We’ll buy you a pretzel?”
Me: “No.”
Teen: “She’ll sell you her body?”
Me: “…”
