(I have just gotten home from working a twelve hour shift and am about to lie down and go to sleep when my older sister barges in, screaming.)

Older Sister: “[My Name], get to the garden NOW! Mom and [Younger Sister] need your help!”

(Tired and confused, I walk outside and find my mom freaking out and my younger sister sitting on the hill beside the garden.)

Me: “Uh… what’s going on?”

Younger Sister: “My foot got stuck in a hole.”

(I look down, and sure enough her left leg is stuck in a muddy hole up to her knee.)

Me: “How did that happen?”

Younger Sister: “I think this was from where Dad tore down that old greenhouse.”

Mom: “CALL 911!”

(I shook my head and headed over the tool shed to grab a shovel. It took roughly ten minutes to dig my sister’s foot out, all while repeatedly telling my Mom “no, we do not need the fire department.” I was not going to cut off my sister’s foot with the shovel all while my older sister paced behind us nervously — and while my younger sister was laughing her head off.)

I am meeting a friend at the movies and arrive before she does. Since I’m early, I buy my ticket but just wait in the lobby so we can go into the theater together. I’m not a very “fidgety” person, so I tend to sit or stand very still whenever I’m not actually doing anything. I have been sitting for a while in my car and know I will be sitting in a movie for a couple of hours, so I just stand to the side instead of sitting on one of the available chairs.

I watch other customers coming in, and eventually a mom and her two little girls come inside. They are waiting on someone as well, and one of the girls, who is probably six or seven, is running around while waiting. She’s not being wild or causing trouble, just very energetic. She stops and looks at the various cardboard cutouts of movie characters that are positioned around the lobby, and then she comes up to me and pauses.

I smile and give her a little wave, and she gasps and runs back to her mom. Just then, a man walks inside and over to join them, and the girl exclaims, “Daddy, I thought that lady over there was a poster!”

I’m flattered she thought I looked good enough to be an actress!

(I used to work in a hotel. We were never allowed to give out guest’s room numbers without checking with the guest first. One of our agents allowed a guests’ friends to get the room number and a key because they wanted to surprise them. Needless to say, the guests were livid to get to their room and have their friends there without their permission. They ended up getting their room comped and we all got read the riot act by our manager. Fast forward to present. A commercial comes on the TV. It’s a wife calling a husband from her business trip and says how much she misses him and the dog. The song “I’m Gonna Be (Five Hundred Miles)” comes on and we see the husband loading the car for a road trip with the dog. The wife comes to her room, puts in her key card, and opens the door. The dog comes running up to her and the husband is in the room.)

Me: “Wow, somebody’s going to get in trouble for letting him in the room.”

Husband: “Really? That’s what you got from that?”

Me: “Well, what did you get out of it?”

Husband: “How did he manage to sneak the dog in the room?”

(We’ve been married for thirty years and the romantic gesture of the moment escaped both of us!)

(I naturally have very blond hair. It’s been this way since I was a little girl, and I’ve never dyed or bleached it or anything of the sort. I am at a locally well-known grocery store picking up a few things for dinner, and the woman behind the counter strikes up a conversation with me.)

Clerk: “I really do love working here. It’s a lot of fun.”

Me: “I bet it is. I remember applying here a few years ago, but I never really heard back from the manager after the interview.”

Clerk: “Well, that makes sense.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Clerk: “Well, the store doesn’t generally hire anyone with unnatural hair colors.”

Me: *stares*

Clerk: *hands me my bags* “You have a wonderful day, then!”

Me: *walks away, both confused and offended*

(While at work on my register, an old man comes through my line.)

Me: “Do you have your [Store] card?”

Man: “A [Store] card? I don’t have anything. My wife died.”