The Matrix came out when my brother and I were children, and my family loved it. Even though it was violent, even my conservative mother approved, so we watched it constantly. One day, my brother and I were watching TV by ourselves when Bound came on. We didn’t really get the plot, and this was a heavily edited, made-for-TV version, but we were entranced by the cinematography. 

Later, on our bi-monthly Blockbuster run, we begged my mom to rent Bound, telling her it was just like The Matrix and that she would love it. We had to really wear her down to convince her, but finally, she relented.

We sat down as a family together and… Wow, we didn’t remember these scenes in the version we’d watched. My mom turned it off very quickly and yelled at my brother for exposing me to it, assuming I hadn’t watched it on TV at all and was just parroting him. Neither of us could convince her otherwise. My brother was grounded for a week.

I am the idiot in this story. 

I had just finished leading a rather active Cub Scout meeting, and I was ready to go home and put my feet up. It was 8:30 at night and I was done for the day. I went out to the car, opened the driver’s side door, and tossed my Scout stuff into the passenger seat. When I pushed the start button, though, nothing happened. I got a “key disabled” message, and couldn’t get it to work at all. I called my older son to bring me another set of keys, figuring that the battery had run out in the key fob or something. 

I sat there in the car, reading stuff on my phone, idly noting that the car was even more of a mess than usual and that I was going to have to get on the kids about that. After ten minutes, my son pulled up in our second car and looked out the window at me with a puzzled look. I got out of the car to grab the keys from him when he spoke up: “Mom? That’s not your car…”

I turned around to find that I had, indeed, gotten into a random SUV that was in the space I usually parked in, that was approximately the same size as my car. It wasn’t even the same make of car, nor the same color. I have no idea why I thought that was my car, other than the fact that it opened when I tried the door. I quickly dashed over to my own car, profoundly grateful that the actual owner hadn’t come out, which would have been an awkward conversation.

I am in an Honors Physics Class doing a project. The project is blowing up a balloon to a certain circumference, then taping it onto a straw that has a string running through. The end of the balloon cannot be tied for we release the balloon and watch it zoom across the string, then calculate distance, etc. Eventually, we are required to change a variable and add mass to the balloon, which means taping these round discs onto the balloon. Every time we attempt this, the balloon deflates and the tape unsticks, meaning the discs slid off.

I take one of my hair bands and suggest we temporarily tie the end of the balloon with the hair tie so it stays inflated. However, I can not put it on as the balloon’s entrance is covered in my classmate’s saliva — I’m already prepared to throw the hair tie away, since I have plenty more. I hand it to him and get the discs and tape ready.

He blows it up.

He awkwardly stretches the hair tie and puts it on over the end… and then stretches it again and tries to bring it over the inflated balloon. It deflates while he tries to wrap it around the middle of the balloon.

He repeats this three times with me growing even more increasingly confused before I realize that he probably has no idea how to tie a hair tie. I end up borrowing a glove and tying it up, while he stands there with his face beet red.

I feel bad for the guy; I was trying not to laugh but my smile was obvious.

I was shopping at a craft store after working at my hospital job. I was wearing scrubs and a hospital name badge.

A customer still came up to me to ask if I worked there!

I am a widow and almost forty, but I look younger and many people assume I’m still in my late twenties.

I have a very physical job, doing freight in a grocery store in a very small town; there are lots of patriarchal world views out this way. 

A few months back, an elderly man was shopping right as we opened, about an hour before my shift was over. He gave me this slightly offended look while I was sweating my life away, putting heavy things on the shelf. 

Then, he asked, “What does your husband think of you doing this job?” 

I said, “I don’t know; let me ask”. Then, I bent down and yelled at the floor, “Hey, [Husband], what do you think of me doing this job?” and cocked my head to one side as if listening. After a few seconds, I stood up straight, looked the customer in the eye, and said, “I don’t think he minds.” The horrified look I received was priceless.

I’ve seen him a few times since and he just gets so embarrassed with himself when I greet him. And I make a point to smile really big and be super chipper, because that only gets him more flustered. 

I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks, after all. Specifically manners.