(I work as a teaching assistant in a special education classroom. Every year, the students in each grade have a “field day,” which includes a number of games and activities held outside on the playground for most of the day. My students have theirs a week earlier than the others in their grade, to prevent them from becoming overwhelmed, and so that we can modify activities if needed. This takes place the morning of our field day, as parents are dropping their children off. I am outside setting up some of the equipment.)

Woman: *approaching me* “Oh, are the kids doing something special today?”

Me: “I’m just setting up for the special education students’ field day.”

Woman: “That’s great! My son loves field day; I’m sure he’ll have a great time today.”

Me: *thinking it’s odd that I haven’t seen her before* “Sorry, who is your son? I teach the special education kids; I’m sure I know him.”

Woman: “[Son] isn’t ‘special’! Why would you say that?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I must have misunderstood. Today is only field day for my students, so he won’t be participating yet.”

Woman: “Then where do I sign him up?”

Me: “You don’t. His class will have theirs next week.”

Woman: “No, no, he wants to do it today. I’ll write a note.”

Me: “Ma’am, this really is only for the special education students.”

Woman: “I know. Don’t worry; it’s okay with me.”

Me: “Well, that’s fine, but it doesn’t matter. Your son will have to wait until his class’s turn.”

Woman: “Of course he won’t. He’d rather play with the special kids, anyway. He hates losing.”

Me: *getting irritated* “My kids are very intelligent and capable. And anyway, he is not a part of their field day today. I’d like to finish setting up now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Woman: “Don’t be stupid; they’re not over here. You don’t have to lie like that. I know what they’re like. They would love to have a normal child pay attention to them! If you won’t help me, I’ll talk to the principal.”

Me: *fuming at this point* “You do that.”

(To no one’s surprise, the principal told her that her child would have to wait for his class’s field day. I later found out that she pulled her kid out of school early that day and attempted to send him into the playground with my students. Luckily, the security officer made it very clear that if she did not leave on her own, he would be escorting her out.)

(I work part-time at a diner and I also babysit — not at the same time, obviously! One day while I’m working, I notice two boys I babysit, aged six and eight respectively, that live with their father in another town and spend their weekends with their mother.)

Me: “Hi, guys. Where’s your mother?”

Eight-Year-Old: “Shopping with her friends.”

Six-Year-Old: “She said you’ll watch over us.”

(I knew the mother was a little off but this takes the cake.)

Me: *sigh* “You little rascals go sit in a booth. I’ll bring you some snacks after I call your father, okay?”

(The boys nod and head to a booth within my visual area. I tell my boss what happened and then call the father.)

Me: “Hello, Mr. [Father], sorry to bother you at work, but your ex-wife dropped off your sons at my workplace while she went shopping.”

Father: “WHAT?! Oh, that woman’s going to get a piece of my mind.”

(I heard the phone being slammed and some muffled swearing. He arrived 45 minutes later to pick up the boys. They no longer spent their weekends with their mother after that.)

(My dad and I butt heads about my job regularly. This is because he wants me to have a passion for technology and be a computer programmer. He doesn’t understand how I can be happy having a decent day job at a law firm and side jobs as a professional editor and published author. Most recently, he has encouraged me to quit my job so I can get a degree in computer science. I’m about to leave for a week in Los Angeles. Dad is my ride to the airport.)

Dad: “So, where are you going?”

Me: “Los Angeles. I’ll be back on Saturday.”

Dad: “I thought you were going to Seattle.”

Me: “I am in July. And if you remember [High School Best Friend], we’re going to New York City in November.”

Dad: “And work will let you do it?”

Me: “Of course. I have the time off saved.”

(And they’re giving me paid vacation, so yeah. This week lounging on the beach is earning me my paycheck.)

Dad: *thoughtful* “You know, for a bum, you do pretty well for yourself.”

(He doesn’t understand why we’re not particularly close.)

(My wife, my dad, and I are looking at the cats up for adoption at a pet supply store, but we absolutely don’t want to adopt, as we all have too many cats already. My dad has a sense of humor that can be very confusing to those who don’t know him well. An employee walks up to us.)

Employee: “Are you guys looking to adopt a friend today?”

Dad: “Get behind me, Satan.”

(The employee was stunned, and my wife and I were equal parts horrified and amused. My dad acted as if this was a perfectly cordial thing to say. We checked out and left the store. Outside, we explained to him that the employee did not get his joke, so he bought a blank greeting card from the shop next door and wrote, “Sorry I called you Satan,” on the front. I didn’t get to see the employee’s face when my dad gave him the card, but somehow I doubt it made him any less confused.)

(I’m a cashier, ringing up a woman’s groceries. Her young son comes up and puts some broccoli on the belt for me to scan.)

Mom: “How many times do I have to tell you that broccoli is bad for you?! Put it back!”