(This is back when my late husband is three or four years old. His family goes to another state to a well-known amusement park as a treat. While his parents’ backs are turned, he runs away. Being only four years old, my late husband is as fearless as our three-year-old daughter is now. When his mother finds out he was missing, they have security and many employees look for him, while she is beside herself, scared that her son is missing, or worse, kidnapped. They finally find him by one of the attractions, and while she is so mad at him, she can’t help but cry and hug him, prompting questions from him, and a silly answer.)

Husband: “Mama, why are you crying?”

Mother: “I was so scared!”

Husband: “But why were you scared? I’m okay!”

Mother: “We didn’t know where you were!”

Husband: “But, Mama! I knew where I was the whole time!”

(From what I understand, his entire family laughed so hard he didn’t get into trouble for that, but they have never gone back to that park since. When this was told to me, my reaction went from shock to laughing so hard I fell off the chair onto the floor, and my husband laughed right along with me. Knowing the memories of him like that makes me smile from time to time. Then, I have to remember I have his mini-me.)

(I work in clothing retail in a small chain store. Most calls get redirected to my department, shoes, since the only other department with people in the immediate area is mens’. I’m also in the middle of a transaction when I get this call.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. This is the shoe department. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Ugh, I need someone from salon.”

Me: “Okay, may I put you on hold for a moment?”

Caller: “No, I need to speak to someone in the salon.”

Me: *thinking she didn’t hear me* “Okay, may I put you on hold for a moment?”

Caller: *huffs* “No! I don’t want to be put on hold!”

Me: *pauses* “Oh, well, I have to put you on hold for a moment to redirect you to the salon department.”

Caller: “Ugh! I don’t want to be put on hold! I just want to speak to someone in the salon!”

Me: *pauses to think* “I can put the phone down and go right over to the salon and get someone to come over to this phone.”

Caller: “No! I don’t want to be put on hold! I’ve been waiting all day!”

Me: *giving up* “Okay, is there anything I can do for you?”

Caller: “No! I need someone from salon!”

(My supervisor walks up and overhears what I’ve been saying.)

Supervisor: *to me* “No, you have to put them on hold.”

Me: *mouthing* “I know.” *into phone* “Well, I need to put you on hold for a moment, or I can just place the phone down and grab someone from salon.”

Supervisor: *to me* “No, you don’t need to do that.”

Caller: “No! I’m not going to be put on hold again, wait for 20 minutes, and get disconnected again!”

Me: “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do for you, then?”

Caller: “I need to talk to someone in salon.”

Me: *tries from the beginning* “Okay, may I put you on hold for a moment?”

Caller: “No! I don’t want to be put on hold!”

Me: “Well, I have to put you on hold to—”

Caller: “Ugh! Fine, just put me on hold!”

Me: “Okay, one moment please.”

Caller: “Ugh! You’re so rude!”

(The salon picks up within a minutes and, when asked, the client seemed to be reasonably pleasant.)

(I work at an amusement park. I am working at a pitching game when a guest comes up to me. I wear skirts to work, as I find them more comfortable.)

Me: “Hi, sir. How are you today?”

Guest: “So, they put you at this game because you are a girl, and guys will play it just to show off.”

Me: “…”

Guest: “It’s not like you know anything about baseball.”

Me: “Actually, my brother plays baseball, and I’ve been watching his games for the past 13 years.”

Guest: “But you’re a girl. How much do you really know about sports? Not like you play them, or anything. After all, you likely only learned to cook, clean, and take care of a house.”

Me: *blank stare*

Guest: “What? Girls who wear skirts to work are always super religious and traditional.”

This story is part of our Women’s Equality Day roundup!

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(A customer walks up to the register with a cookbook.)

Customer: “Can you please tell me how many recipes are in this cookbook?”

Me: “Um…”

(I look at the book and don’t see a specific number anywhere, so I point to the table of contents.)

Me: “This many.”

Customer: “Okay.” *proceeds to count out the number of recipes in the cookbook*

(I am at a restaurant with my dad. He’s in his 60s, and not an unintelligent person, but he never did well in school, and he frequently asks me how to spell certain words. He also has a very… unusual sense of humor.)

Dad: “[My Name], how do you spell ‘sausage’?”

Me: “S-A-U-S-A-G-E.”

Dad: “Thank you. I’m texting my friend Jim the Sausage Man.”

(He went on texting as if that was a totally normal thing to say.)