(My two nieces — aged little and littler — and a friend of mine are over. Unfortunately, [Niece #1] has a stomach bug, so no dairy. Before my friend came over, my mother told me to get a “surprise” for [Niece #2] while [Niece #1] snuggled and watched cat videos with her. The surprise was yogurt. A few hours later, [Niece #1] is feeling more energetic after a nap and decides to hang out with me and my friend. After a while, she decides she’s hungry:)

Niece #1: “[My Name], I want a surprise like you gave [Niece #2]. I’m hungry.”

Me: “Uh, hold on a second, sweetie.”

(I text my mother and ask what I can give [Niece #1]. After waiting for a couple moments, [Niece #1] starts waving a wand.)

Friend: “Oh, are you trying to turn [My Name] into something?”

Niece #1: “No.”

Me: “What about a frog? Can you turn me into a frog? I want to be a frog.”

Niece #1: “No! I’m not trying to turn you into something. I’m… I’m trying to turn you into the kitchen!”

(Note, I am female.)

Me: “Oh, is that where I belong?”

Niece #1: “Yeah.”

(Luckily, after the laughing stopped I got the all-clear to give her a popsicle.)

(I’ve bought some old home movies on VHS tapes over to my mum and step-dad’s so he can transfer them to DVD. My sister and eight-year-old nephew happen to be visiting at the same time.)

Nephew: *looking at the tapes* “Hey, what’s that?”

Me: “They’re videos; Grandpa is going to put them onto DVD for us.”

Nephew: “What’s a video?”

Me: “Before DVDs were invented, movies came out on video.”

Nephew: “Oh, my God. There was something before DVDs?”

Me: *laughing* “Yep, and before videos, there were eight-tracks.”

Nephew: “Wow, that’s trippy.”

Me: “You know that before mp3s, there were CDs, right?”

Nephew: “Yep, when Mum got rid of hers, me and [Nieces] used them for frisbees.”

Me: “Well, before CDs, there were cassettes. I think Grandpa might even have some, along with a Walkman. We could see if we can find them.”

(He readily agreed, and we found some old cassettes and Walkmen, along with our old super Nintendo and games. Everything still worked. After hooking the gaming system up to an old TV, my nephew and I spent the rest of the day reliving my childhood. While it made me feel incredibly old — I’m 32 — it was a great day reliving the past and showing him things that had been lost to the younger generation.)

(I get into work to find out that a customer that I had problems with a month ago had stopped in. This customer tried to rent on account that had an ID check required, and we couldn’t get ahold of the person on the account. I let her rent that one time because she had little children with her, but I told her that to rent again she either needs to bring an ID to set up her own account, or she needs to make sure the person gives us a call or is reachable. This time, I am informed that she was in by my employee and from a note from another customer. When we informed her why we couldn’t rent to her, she became very aggressive. She called my employee names and even threatened to be back for her. I get the “a-ok” from a district manager to kick her out of the store.)

Me: “Hi! Did you find everything okay today?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Great! What is the number on the account?”

Customer: “DONALD TRUMP!”

Me: “I’m sorry? I need the number for the account.”

Customer: “Donald Trump!”

Me: *laughs* “I’m sorry, what is the number?”

(She tells me the number, but it is a number she bullied a previous employee to change to. We deleted that number due to the fact that she isn’t the account holder and doesn’t have the right to use it.)

Me: “I’m sorry, it looks like it isn’t coming up.”

Customer: “Whaaaat? That’s weeeirdd.”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry about that. What is the name on the account?”

Customer: “[Account Name].”

Me: “Great! I found it! It looks like I need to see a photo ID.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t have one.”

Me: “No worries, I just need to give the account holder a call to make sure it’s okay. Do you know her number?”

Customer: *tells me number*

(As I am beginning to dial it, she starts to rant about how poorly the two other girls have treated her the last two days. She proceeds to call them names to my face, and then finishes it up with, “Not like you give a s***.” While I was all for humoring her to see if maybe she had just been having a bad day before and took it out on my employees, I stop what I am doing and put down the phone.)

Me: “I’m sorry, is your name [Customer]?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “All right, well, I’m really sorry, but this store is no longer going to be able to rent to you. I had customers leave notes and call here earlier today about how you brought a very negative experience to them, and we take a positive atmosphere here very seriously. If you want, I can give you the district manager’s email and you can talk with her about resolving the situation. Until then, you will not be allowed back in the store.”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me, my niece and I just walked here in the cold at nine pm at night, and we can’t rent movies?”

Me: “Yes, I’m sorry. Normally, I’d inform you to have a photo ID to set up your own account, but because I had customers complain, I have to ask you never to return.”

Customer: *picks up her niece* “What do we think of this mean lady?”

Niece: *three years old* “You’re a [slur].”

Me: “Okey dokey. Well, here is the email. You know what you need to do.”

(My family is English, but my younger brother married an American and moved to the States. Their kids talk really fast, and with their accents, I sometimes have no idea what they are saying. This is particularly true when they are younger. One of my visits is when my nephew is about six, and he is really into The Avengers. As soon as I arrive from the airport, he takes me into his room to show me his Avengers decor, including a wall decal.)

Nephew: *pointing* “This is Iron Man, and Captain America, and Hulk, and Hot Guy…”

Me: “Who is that?”

Nephew: “Hot Guy.”

Me: “Hot Guy?”

Nephew: “No. Hot Guy.”

Me: “Hot Guy?”

Nephew: “No! Hot Guy!”

(By this point, I am thoroughly confused and know that I am missing something. In my head, I am agreeing with him that the actor is indeed very good looking, but am struggling to get around the idea that a six-year-old boy recognises this.)

Me: “Say it again, but slower this time.”

Nephew: *very slowly, as if explaining something to an idiot* “Haaawwwwkeyyyyeeee.”

(In my defence, I was horribly jet-lagged.)

(It’s Christmas Day and we are at the in-laws’ house. My brother- and sister-in-law turn up with just the younger of their two sons.)

Mother-In-Law: “Where’s [Older Son]? Is he sick?”

Brother-In-Law: “No, it’s worse than being sick; he’s on call and was called in for an emergency.”

Mother-In-Law: “What sort of emergency?”

Brother-In-Law: “The plumbing kind.”

(Later, [Nephew] stops in to say hello on his way between jobs. I go in for a hug but he backs off.)

Nephew: “Don’t touch me! Um… Sorry, that came out wrong. Please don’t touch me; I’m covered in s***.”