If You Wanna Be My Lover, You Gotta Get With My Jams

, , , , , , , | | Friendly | June 27, 2019

I’m driving to work, and the turn arrow I need turns red just as I pull up. I’m annoyed, as this is a major intersection, and it’ll be at least two minutes before the arrow changes.

However, at that instant, the radio changes to “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls. Knowing how long the light is, I crank the volume, roll down my windows, and rock out. About a minute in, I glance at the car on my left: the driver looks at me with pure judgment. I ignore them and look over at the big rig on my right.

The driver is also rocking out, and I realize he’s also jamming to the Spice Girls. We make eye contact and exchange thumbs-up before going our separate ways.

For Her Nothing Else Matters

, , , , | | Learning | May 14, 2019

I worked in an English language preschool as a teacher’s assistant.

There was a five-year-old little girl with blonde hair, who always had pink clothes on, and she was a little shy and very polite.

One day, in our after-school club, one of the teachers put a CD on and a song by Metallica started playing. The little girl calmly walked into the middle of the room and started head-banging. Not only were the staff laughing out loud, the other kids were also amazed.

She was doing what she had seen her older brother do, her mom later explained.

DJ Hobo In The House!

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 13, 2019

(My friend and I are eating lunch outside. I am sitting leaning against a concrete pillar while he sits opposite me against a wall. I am just about done when I hear snippets of a strange, rambling voice behind me.)

Voice: “Yeah, I’m… money… fo dis… real man… yeah…”

(I look at my friend who is watching whatever is going on with a look that is equal parts bafflement and horror. I piece together the incoherent blather and his face and come to the conclusion that a confused, homeless person has somehow snuck onto our campus and is currently harassing students for money. Not wanting to deal with that hassle, I quickly finish my food and stand up so that we can head indoors, pointedly not turning around, to avoid making eye contact.)

Friend: *immediately once we were indoors* “Did you see that?!”

Me: “I heard it. I figured it was some crazed, homeless guy bothering students.”

Friend: “What? No! It was that blond chick trying to rap!”

(I turn around and see a blond girl that neither of us knows, but she is hard to ignore, as she loudly speaks like a “gangsta.” She is in the middle of a small group of people bobbing back and forth with her hand to her mouth as if holding a microphone.)

Me: “Good God, her free-styling was so awful I assumed it was a half-drunk hobo seeking pocket change from teenagers.”

This Caller Has Been Band

, , , , , | Working | March 6, 2019

I am in my university’s marching band and am in the middle of an indoor practice. There are close to four hundred of us in the band so it can get pretty loud.

I have my phone out on my music stand and notice that an unfamiliar number, similar to ones that have been telemarketers in the past, is calling me in the middle of a song.

During a rest, I hit the answer button, and then go back to playing my part. After a few seconds on the line, the telemarketer hangs up.

Singalongs Make Everything Better

, , , , , , | Hopeless | March 1, 2019

During one of my summer breaks while attending college, I take a job as a summer camp counselor. Part of our weekly program involves performing a short play near the end of the week, and I volunteer to be one of the main characters. All goes well until I catch a bad cold. All the coughing I end up doing hurts my throat and makes my voice sound gravelly. I thankfully am not assigned a group of kids that week, but I don’t have anyone to replace me in the play. I rest my voice up as best I can, and even find a funny in-character reason to explain the way I sound. It works, right up until I have to sing a small solo. When I try to sing, absolutely no sound comes out of my mouth. I start to panic a bit, but the other counselors are quick to pick up on what is happening.

Every counselor in the audience knows this song, because of how much they’ve seen the play. So, when my voice fails me, the song only gets a couple bars in before the counselors all start singing my part for me! They don’t hesitate to cover the other bits of singing my character does, either. I swear it’s something straight out of a feel-good high school movie! Ten years later, and thinking about it still makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

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