I’m a substitute school bus driver, filling in for my full-time coworkers when they get ill, take a vacation, drive a field trip, or are absent for whatever reason. Most students don’t really care as long as I get them to where they’re supposed to go, and they simply get on without comment beyond perhaps, “Is this [Route]?”

One bright spring day, though, an elementary student got off the bus with a wave and a big, friendly smile.

Student: “Thanks for the ride! Your hair is so pretty! I love it!”

I smiled and thanked her.

Student: “You look like a Ghostbuster!”

Me: *Confused* “Th-thank… you?”

She nodded confidently.

Student: “It’s a compliment.”

I was too confused to ask for further clarification as she skipped down the road to her home.

I’m a white woman with dark, curly/wavy hair and a body type between Sigourney Weaver and Melissa McCarthy, so maybe she meant one of them? I’d be happy with either. I just hope she didn’t mean I look like Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray, or Harold Ramis.

I am an avid collector of “Transformers” figures. My best friend and roommate’s son, who is five, frequently comes down to the basement to gaze in wonder at the ever-growing robot army. Optimus Prime is his favorite character, and he knows exactly what Optimus normally looks like, so when he notices an Optimus figure I have that isn’t red, blue, and white as Optimus typically is, he becomes curious.

Roommate’s Son: “Why is that Optimus the wrong colors, and why are his eyes red?”

The figure he’s referring to is Optimus Prime from a series called “Transformers: Shattered Glass”, which effectively reversed the factions, so the Autobots were evil and the Decepticons were the heroes. As such, this particular Optimus Prime — an evil version of himself — is light gray and dark purple and has red eyes, whereas Optimus’s eyes are usually blue or occasionally yellow.

Me: “Because that Optimus is from a series where Optimus wasn’t a good guy.”

Roommate’s Son: *Suddenly distressed* “OPTIMUS PRIME WAS AN A**HOLE?!”

Back in the days of video rental stores, I had this exchange with a customer. A trailer for one of the many Iraq War movies was playing on some of the screens. The trailer included a scene where a prisoner was being waterboarded by some shady government types.

A customer was staring up at the trailer and then started speaking to me. My manager was standing next to me but didn’t immediately interact.

Customer: “I wonder if that kind of thing actually works?”

Me: “What kind of thing?”

Customer: “When they motorboat the prisoners to get them to talk.”

Me: “When they… what now?”

Customer: “When they motorboat the prisoners to get them to talk. You know, like that.” *Points at the TV*

Me: “That’s… not what that is called.”

Customer: “What did I say?”

Me: “Motorboating.”

Customer: “What was I supposed to say?”

Me: “Waterboarding.”

Customer: “What’s the difference?”

Me: “Well, one is torture, and one is… not.”

Manager: “But both can suffocate you if you do it for too long!”

I’m in a sports bar, and playing on one of the screens is a show called “Toughman Contest.” The premise is novice amateur boxers competing against each to test their skills.

One of the contestants is a Black man in magnificent physical shape with amazing brute strength, plowing his opponents over like a tank and scoring knockouts in the first minute. It’s amazing that boxing promoters aren’t beating this guy’s door down!

A trio of guys is standing next to me, watching as well. One of them speaks up.

Guy: “Bulls***! Put the [racist slur] up against an in-shape and well-trained white guy and let’s see how long he’d last! Guarantee you, it’d be over by the second round!”

Me: “How about you step in the ring with him, call him that to his face, and see how long you’d last?!”

Other Patron: *Chiming in* “Guarantee you, it’d be over by the second punch!“

Other patrons glared at the guy. It quickly became obvious that they’d just made a frosty environment for themselves; they took the cue to quietly slink over to a table in the back and shut up for the rest of the time they were there.

I work at Disneyland Paris’s Disney store. I’m on a Wednesday morning shift in the off-peak season. A grown man enters the store and walks around the store while showing signs of distress or frustration.

Me: “Can I help you find what you’re looking for, sir?”

Customer: *Rudely* “I want a Shrek [toy], and you’d better fetch it quickly! I’m [some kind of important Disney person]!”

Me: *Gently* “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t get you a Shrek toy because Shrek isn’t licensed under Disney.”

The dude gets visibly angry and treats me like I am an idiot.

Customer: “It’s an animated movie; therefore, it’s Disney!”

Me: “Sir, Disney isn’t the only studio to make animated movies. Shrek comes from Dreamworks.” *Trying to jog his memory* “Did you see the Disney logo and castle at the beginning of Shrek?”

This was my mistake.

Customer: “OF COURSE, I DID!”

It took two team leaders and a manager to explain to him that he wouldn’t find Shrek anywhere around here and his best shot was at the nearby mall.

I’ve never seen a grown-up man so erratic and angry for such a silly reason. He was fuming!