(There is a black and white sample photo of four teenage boys hanging in the lobby of our studio. It’s supposed to look like a recreation of a photo from a Beatles shoot, and a lot of customers really like it and make comments about it. A mother and her six-year-old little boy are in the studio, and the mother is asking about pricing and what we can do for their photo session when they do decide to come in to get pictures done. Meanwhile, the little boy is staring at the “Beatles” photo, before he turns to me and speaks up.)

Little Boy: “Are those the monkeys?”

(At first it doesn’t occur to me what the little boy is talking about. I think he means actual monkeys. Apparently, his mother thinks the same, too.)

Mother: “Those boys don’t look anything like monkeys.”

Little Boy: *starts singing* “‘Hey, hey, we’re The Monkees!'”

(I am trying very hard not to fall over laughing, and his mother looks even more confused, because she has no idea what he is talking about.)

Mother: “What are you going on about?”

Little Boy: “They’re just monkeying around, Mom.”

Mother: *shakes her head and turns back to me* “He watches way too much TV.”

Me: “At least he’s watching some of the classics. My mom would love his taste in music!”

(I finished answering her questions, and she thanked me, promising to be back when they have time to get their photos taken. As they were leaving, I overheard the little boy trying to explain to his mother who the Monkees were. Really made my day.)

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(It’s 1997. I work with a 19-year-old who thinks she knows everything about music. Puff Daddy’s “I’ll Be Missing You” is playing on the office radio. As the song ends:)

Coworker: “I love that song.”

Me: “Really? Come here for a second.”

(I play “Every Breath You Take” by the music group The Police.)

Coworker: *listening* “Ugh! I can’t believe someone is already sampling Puff Daddy’s work! That’s so lame! Why can’t they come up with their own music?!”

Me: “Uh, The Police wrote that song… in 1983. I’ll let you borrow my album if you have a record player.”

(She refused to believe that Puff Daddy sampled anything and wouldn’t look at any proof shown to her.)

Coworker: “Do you like musicals?”

Me: “I listened to nothing but Hamilton for eight months.”

Coworker: “Wow. Okay.”

(An “ABBA” song comes on in the shop, and I quietly sing along while paying.)

Cashier: “You like ABBA?”

Me: “I do.”

Cashier: *staring at my driving licence* “When did they break up?”

Me: “’83, I think.”

Cashier: “Well, you can’t like them. You were born in ‘89.”

Me: *staring at his t-shirt* “When were you born?”

Cashier: “1998.”

Me: “And you like Nirvana?”

(He blushed and finished my purchase. You’ve got to love hypocrites.)

(We are at a local town hall for a New Year’s party. The DJ comes in and starts to get all set up. He looks and acts frustrated. From the sounds of it this was a last minute thing his boss tossed his way. He grumbles and groans but gets set up fairly quickly. He grabs the mic.)

DJ: “Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3. Everyone hear me?”

(We cheer and holler.)

DJ: “Okay, folks, let’s get this party started; the more you drink the more fun we have!”

(There was dead silence. One of the party coordinators ran up to him and whispered something to let him know that this was an Alcoholics Anonymous party. There was no alcohol. The DJ did apologize, and then ran outside, cell phone in hand. Those near the door could hear him yelling at someone on the phone for not telling him it was an AA party. The rest of the night went smoothly and we all had fun.)