This takes place over a decade and should be a cautionary tale of why to never be friends just to be nice. I decide to go back to school a few years after round one, so I’m in my early-mid 20s. It just so happens that the son of one of my mom’s friends is also going back to school, same college and campus.

Mom: “Is it okay if I give him your number? He’s having a hard time making friends because he’s socially awkward. Autism.”

Me: “Sure, as long as he knows it’s just to be friends!”

Mom: “Of course!”

I meet the guy (who I’ll call Creep since that’s what he turned into) on campus in a very well-lit, well-travelled common area.

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name]. Nice to meet you.”

Creep: “Your boobs are much bigger in real life! Oh, sorry, that’s the autism!”

Me: “…Never do that again.”

Creep: “Yeah, it makes me say things.”

Me: “No, it doesn’t. I have autistic friends. It can mean you miss social cues, not say inappropriate things.”

Creep: “Oops. So, are you seeing anyone?”

Me: “Yes, and we’re very much committed. I’m not interested in dating. In fact, we’re hoping to get engaged once I’m done school and both have full time jobs.”

Creep: “I bet I can be a much better provider! Just give me a chance!”

Me: “Good-bye!”

So ends that lovely meeting.

I tell my mother, who talks to her friend, and after much negotiating, I agree to give him another chance. But talking about my body and boyfriend is off limits.

Creep: “So, what do you do for fun?”

Me: “Mostly draw and write.”

I go into a brief synopsis of a story I’ve been writing for years.

Creep: “Oh. So, it’s a lame girl-power, castle, and magic story.”

Me: “EXCUSE ME?!”

Creep: “Well, that’s the boxes it checked. I can probably guess the ending of the main bad girl going straight and marrying her antagonistic male equivalent? So cliché!”

Me: “Well… Yes… But you’re totally missing the in-between! [Boyfriend] and I have been doing a lot of careful lore building and multi-generations of heroes.”

Creep: “Oh, so he encourages this. I guess he would. You know, if you give me a chance, I could support you to let you write something original and creative.”

Me: “You insult my work and want a chance?!” *I have a very naturally loud voice, so it carries, and people are now looking.* “Not a chance! Goodbye!”

Round two of the mothers smoothing things over. I’m yet again sweet-talked into a third chance, but my limit is closing in.

Me: “Oh shoot, I forgot my textbook. I’ll see if [Boyfriend] can drop it off.”

Creep: “What do you see in that guy?!”

Me: “He’s sweet, he’s supportive, he’s seen me at my lowest, and cares about me for me.”

Creep: “And what does he do for a living?”

Me: “We’ve been over this. He’s working part-time until he can get into his field.”

Creep: “In IT! I’m going into Engineering! I can pay for way nicer things!”

Me: “You can’t buy me.”

I get up to meet my boyfriend as he drops off my textbook.

Creep: “He shouldn’t even be here! He’s not a student! This is trespassing!”

My boyfriend just looks him up and down, hands me the textbook, and walks away.

Creep: “See, he was intimidated by me!”

Me: “No, he doesn’t see you as even worth his time. Bye!”

Things go silent, with the occasional text message. I don’t block because I want proof if things escalate. And boy, do they:

Creep: “I’m coming over to your place.”

Me: “What?! No, you are not! You don’t even know where I live!”

Creep: “Oh, Mom told me. Please, I have nowhere else to go! I’m shivering at the bus stop!”

Cue me immediately calling my mom, who explains he was kicked out for trying to harm his mother and was placed in a mental hold. I then call the hospital.

Me: “[Creep] is standing at the bus stop right now on the way to me! I do not want him here!”

Doctor: “That’s not a very supportive attitude for a girlfriend.”

Me: “I AM NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND! He is a STALKER!”

Doctor: “Well, that’s not the story he told us.”

Me: “Let me make it perfectly clear: He. Is. NOT. My. Boyfriend! Never has been, never will be! If he shows up, I will be calling the police and suing the hospital for allowing someone who tried to harm his MOTHER near his stalking victim!”

Doctor: “…We’ll send an orderly out to get him.”

Now I block him and don’t see him around the school.

Fast forward a few years, I find out that he’s better medicated, but still don’t unblock him. He finds me on Facebook about two years later.

Creep: “So, now that I’m better and have more control over my autism, can I have a chance?”

Me: “NO! I am ENGAGED! Never going to happen!”

Creep: “You’ll regret it! You’ll get to the altar, realize I’m the one, and run off to find me! It happens in movies and TV all the time!”

Me: “…You think a FICTIONAL plot will make me change my mind?! No! Blocked!”

I blocked him, and his parents are invited to the wedding as a favour to my mom. His mom comes up to me towards the end of the night.

His Mom: “I’m so sorry about [Creep]! He’s truly waiting at home for you! And we found out that he doesn’t even have autism.”

Me: “…Say what?”

His Mom: “It turns out that he faked it! All the symptoms! Turns out that he has [different disorder that’s known for manipulation].”

Me: “No kidding…”

Moving forward another two years, I’m at work in a hotel when in walks [Creep].

Me: “Hi, [Creep]… Do you need anything?”

Creep: “Well, maybe a room. I got kicked out again. I could use some company, too.”

Me: “Nope, fully booked!”

Creep: “Is [Boyfriend] still around?”

Me: “Husband now, and yes, he is! He’s actually on his way to pick me up! Gets me at the end of every shift!”

Creep: “Oh… Too bad… Maybe I’ll see you around…”

I promptly put him on the ‘Do Not Rent’ list, because I’m not even taking that chance!

After not too deep digging, my mom told his mom where I worked, which led to a conversation of never ever ever tell her anything about where I worked or lived! At this point, we’re now a decade on from when this all started, and I see a Facebook notification through Creep’s mom’s post.

Creep: “Engaged! To the best girl I could give the best life to, after having my heart cruelly smashed in the past!”

Didn’t even respond to it. I’m now debating also blocking his mom, or just leaving him to this girl to deal with!

I worked in the dairy department of a grocery store. A customer comes over to me, holding two of the same brand and type of milk cartons.

Customer: “What’s the difference between milk and lait?”

Me: “In Ontario, products are written in English on one side and in French on the other.”

Customer: “…so?”

Me: “Lait is French for milk.”

Customer: “That’s not right! You don’t know and you’re just making stuff up!”

I don’t know why this customer is suddenly upset, but I see a simple solution.

Me: “Ma’am, turn one of the cartons around.”

She looks angrily at me, but obliges by turning one of the cartons around. Now she can see that both say ‘Milk.’

Customer: “How did you do that?!”

Me: “I didn’t do anything. You did that.”

Customer: “Oh, is it like, if I pour from one side it’s milk, and if I pour from the other side, it’s lait?”

Me: “They’re both milk, ma’am. It’s the same regardless of which side of the carton you tear open.”

Customer: “Oh… okay. So they swirled the milk and the lait together? Like half and half?”

Me: “You know what? Sure.”

Customer: “Okay I get it now.”

I work at a furniture store. Early on in 2020 (when the world was going crazy) when stores like us were seeing delays in product arrivals unlike we’ve seen before, we called a customer to let them know their order was being delayed by the manufacturer. My coworker spoke to them first:

Customer: “We have renovations being done and this needs to be on time. I want a discount.”

Coworker: “Unfortunately, we cannot offer discounts because the manufacturer delayed the items.”

Customer: “The delays are over and there’s no excuse for this. I want to talk to the store manager.”

My coworker transferred the call to me (I’m not the store manager but since we don’t have one at this time, I’m taking those calls). Our phone system has a transfer button that she hits and inputs my extension. I’m three meters away so I already know what’s going on and watch her transfer.

I explain everything the same as my coworker, which of course didn’t make her happy, but we eventually got her off the phone.

She then emails our regional manager saying that of course we were rude to her and she wanted compensation. Thankfully, he didn’t give in.

In her email, she says that the first person she spoke with slammed the phone down when transferring her. This is of course impossible as it’s a button press. The most they would hear a click.

Also, a few weeks later when their furniture was ready for delivery, they couldn’t take it yet. Their renovations have been delayed as the builders don’t have the materials to finish it.

I used to work in a flea market selling produce. Our booth was right beside some automatic sliding glass doors that went outside.

I was helping a customer with a purchase and some other guy walked up, triggered the doors to open, stood there and stared, then came back towards me and interrupted us. At this point, the doors had closed again, and the conversation went like this.

Customer: “Hey are these the doors to go outside?”

Me: “Sir, the doors are glass correct?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “And you’ve looked through them?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “Oh, well, in that case, no those don’t go outside. That’s the bathroom.”

The lady I was helping started laughing.

My grandfather and uncle owned that produce business, so I was able to get away with saying that.

Before this last year, my little sister, now twenty, had only ever been on one plane in her life: a little four-seater Cessna that our pilot uncle once used to commute across Oregon, and that only once when she was about seven.

However, every single one of the rest of our siblings and parents have gone on multiple cross-country or international trips by air over the course of our lives. We’ve teased her in the past about how non-traveled she is. 

That changed, last year as she went on four separate trips over the course of six months, all flying solo and all non-stop flights between Portland International Airport (PDX) and her destination.

Naturally, at our latest family gathering, she had to set the record straight on us.

Sister: “All right, let it be known that you can no longer tease me about not having travel experience! Because guess who’s now been on eight passenger planes in the last six months? This girl!”

The family laughs and applauds.

Sister: “And how many of you have been off the ground lately? That’s right, no one! And [Brother], that hang-gliding trip doesn’t count.”

My brother pretends to pout at this, but suddenly, I have a brainwave and begin to laugh.

Me: “[Sister], you can’t claim to be well-traveled until you’ve gone someplace other than Ontario.”

Sister: “I’m sorry?”

Me: “Come on. Every flight you’ve ever been on has been between PDX and Ontario. You’ve got to broaden your horizons a bit.”

Sister: “I’ve only been to Ontario twice: the two times I flew to Toronto to see [Long-Distance Boyfriend].”

Me: “Right…”

Sister: “The other two flights were to California for [Best Friend]’s wedding and baby shower.”

Me: “And where does [Best Friend] live?”

Our parents have caught on at this point and are cracking up.

Sister: “Riverside.”

Me: “Yeah, she lives in Riverside, but what airport did you fly into?”

Sister: “Ontar— Oh, come on! Really?!”

At this point, we’re all laughing, but it takes [Brother] an extra five seconds before he gets the biggest “Whoa, waaaaait a second” look on his face that makes us laugh even harder.

Yes, my sister flew to Ontario International Airport in Ontario, California, twice as well as to Toronto Pearson International Airport in Ontario, Canada, twice. But it doesn’t end there.

As we’re recovering from this comedic revelation, [Sister] has a lightbulb moment and points a finger at me in victory. 

Sister: “Wait! Remember [Uncle]’s little Cessna he used to have? And that time he flew me and [Other Sister] out to his ranch in Eastern Oregon when we were little? Ha! I have been on another flight! So there!”

I had actually completely forgotten about that particular trip, but the second she mentioned it, not only did I remember, but in that moment, I saw the universe align so incredibly perfectly in a way I will likely never see again. That moment might be the only time in my life that I actually thought I was going to pass out from laughter. Our parents are likewise dying on their side of the table.

Sister: “What’s so funny?”

Me: “Where… Where did [Uncle] live?”

Sister: “Eastern Oregon somewhere, I dunno. Baker City or something.”

Mom: “He lived in Ontario, you knucklehead! [Uncle] was a flight instructor at Ontario Municipal Airport!”

At this, the whole family lost it as [Sister] just put her head in her hands in defeat.

My “well-traveled” little sister is planning another flight to Toronto this summer to visit her long-distance boyfriend, and we are on strict orders not to tease her about it, or she just might not come back. I like the guy, so I might be okay with that. And if she hasn’t told him this story already, I am going to for sure.