(I am on the boardwalk, walking. There are designated lanes for bikers, runners, et cetera. Suddenly, a teenage girl comes riding next to me on purple light-up Heelies sneakers, going the wrong way in the biking lane.)

Teenage Girl: *screaming* “WEAR HEELIES TO ESCAPE YOUR FEELIES!”

Girl’s Mother: *running after her* “God d*** it, Tay. How come you always act like a hyperactive child on drugs?”

Teenage Girl: “Yeah, my brain is weird. Anyway, it saddens me to think that most turtles will never know the sweet taste of a bagel. Feelings are hard. Bagels don’t have feelings. Why can’t I be a bagel?”

(I later saw the same family at my hotel, and I can confirm that this girl always acted like this. Once she skateboarded into the continental breakfast screaming about how she was emo now, while wearing pastel blue and pony hair clips. I last saw her telling a long-winded story to an old lady about her hermit crabs named Shmi Skywalker and Breha Organa.)

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Customer: “What is in your gold margarita?”

(I tell her and she orders one. Five minutes later…)

Customer: “This has a very rustic taste to it.”

Me: “You don’t like it?”

Customer: “It’s like… rustic.”

Me: “Is it too sour? Or too sweet?”

Customer: “It’s very rustic.”

(We go around and around like this until I determine what she means to say is “metallic.”)

Customer: “Drink it and see what I mean. Get a straw.”

Me: “I’m not going to do that, sorry. I’ll make you a new one or something different though.”

(I am visibly pregnant, I should add.)

Customer: “Honey, it’s not going to kill you. You should be tasting every drink you send out. Your baby will be fine. Get a straw.”

Me: “I will make you a new margarita.”

Customer: “Taste it first. We gotta work something out here because I can’t drink rustic things.”

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(I am at my choir lesson. Our director is trying to get us to say, “Pah-rah-gah-te”. We are saying it “Pay-ruh-gah-te”.)

Director: “Everyone say, ‘pah-rah-gah.'”

Us: “Pay-ruh-gah.”

Director: “No! Say, um, ‘Uh muh gahd.'”

Us: “Uh muh gahd.”

Director: “Pah-rah-gah.”

Us: “Pah-rah-gah.”

Director: “Perfect! Now, start singing.”

(We sing the song, with each paragate perfect. This is why he is my favorite director.)

(I work in the video games department of a large toy store. We are doing a promotion for one of the Spider-Man movies. They hire an actor who dresses up as Spider-Man and gives out autographs. I sneak an autograph from him in during my lunch break and the actor goes home in the afternoon. After ringing up the last customer, a young boy comes up to the register with his dad. He has a Spider-Man jacket and a t-shirt.)

Dad: “Hey, we’re here to see Spider-Man. Do you know where he is?”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry, but he left an hour ago.”

(Immediately the boy looks sad and the dad smiles apologetically to his son.)

Dad: “I’m so sorry, [Son]. Maybe we’ll see him next time?”

(By now, the son is about to cry. I see the autograph under my register and quickly come up with a story.)

Me: “Oh, [Son], right? Spider-Man told me all about you! He had a lot of crime to fight today but he told me to give this to you. He’s very proud of you and he wished he could have met his biggest fan in person! I’m really glad I found you!”

(I gave him the autograph and his eyes lit up. They thanked me repeatedly while I rung up their purchase and I watched the boy leave with an extra skip in his step. I never liked working in retail but this was one of my favorites. I was more than happy to brighten his day!)

(I work at a movie theater and always volunteer to work Thanksgiving so I can get Christmas off. Every year without fail:)

Customer: “Oh, I am so sorry that you have to work on Thanksgiving! I can’t believe you’re actually working!”

Me: “Because people like YOU are here to see movies. If you feel so bad, go home.”

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