(My colleague is a highly educated man about twice my age and works as a guide/educator in several prestigious museums, including a family-friendly house dedicated to nature and natural sciences, where the following occurs. Two young mothers let their toddlers run around wildly in an exhibition space while chatting. One of the mothers starts handing out bananas to the kids.)

Colleague: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but eating is not permitted here.”

Visitor: “I thought you were supposed to be a family-friendly museum. Am I supposed to let the poor kids go hungry?”

Colleague: “Of course not, ma’am. We have a nice, large picnic area where you’ll surely be much more comfortable. There you can also warm up milk or food, if necessary. Let me show you where it is.”

Visitor: “Why can’t you just let them finish their bananas here?”

(My colleague points to a very small child holding a half-eaten banana like a pen, smearing it all over a white wall.)

Colleague: “That’s why.”

(Instead of leaving the area, the very same lady grabs her kid, takes out a blanket and a diaper.)

Colleague: *in a much sterner tone* “If you wish to diaper your baby, I must insist on you using the specially designated room, ma’am, JUST OVER THERE.” *points to the other end of the hall* “There is such a thing as odour nuisance.”

(This time she yields and begrudgingly takes her stuff and the kid to the baby care room. After a few minutes she comes out and ostentatiously chucks the dirty diaper in a waste basket just outside the washrooms. The place, of course, starts to reek.)

Colleague: *in a perfectly calm tone* “What kind of pigsty did YOU escape from, madam?!”

(Whereupon they stormed off, never to be seen again…)

(Due to the weather, I am calling people who had pre-registered to come to watch the Geminid Meteor Shower at the nature center. One of the gentlemen tries to be optimistic about it.)

Gentleman: “What if we got enough people together and had them blow all at once to get rid of the clouds?”

Me: “Well, I’d hate to have someone pass out from all the blowing.”

(I work in the gift shop at one of William Shakespeare’s houses, and we get a lot of very silly questions from customers.)

Customer: “Excuse me, did Shakespeare write The Wind in the Willows?”

Me: “…No, they didn’t have motor cars in the 17th century, I’m afraid. They weren’t invented until the last 1800s.”

Customer: *considers it for a second* “Hmm… Yeah, I’m not sure about that. Can you look it up for me?”

Me: *Googles it* “The Wind in the Willows was written by Kenneth Grahame in 1908.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, it’s not too far in the future from Shakespeare’s stuff, is it?”

Me: “Madam, Shakespeare died in 1616.”

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(I volunteer in a children’s education room at one of the big DC museums. One of our most popular features is a human skeleton replica. Everyone is drawn to Mr. Bones, but my favorite encounter involved a mother and a six-year-old boy.)

Mom: “Look, it’s a human skeleton!”

Kid: *scornfully, like of course his mother should know this* “Nah, that’s a zombie!”

Tourist: “Hi. You guys still give guided tours every half hour, right?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. We don’t have guided tours.”

Tourist: “What? You used to!”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, but we don’t.”

Tourist: “You used to have guided tours every half hour! You had then the last time I was here!”

Me: “I’ve been here six years, and we’ve never done that. How long ago were you here?”

Tourist: “Well, I guess it was… 22 years ago.”