(My sister, my mom, and I are on a walk. We bump into one of my mum’s friends.)

Friend: *to sister* “So how old are you?”

Sister: “I’m three and then I’m four and then I’m five and then I’m six!”

(I work at an alligator reservation and am currently manning the food counter.)

Me: “Hello, what would you like?”

Customer: *about mid 70s* “Do you serve alligator?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we save them, not hunt them for food.”

Customer: “WHAT? WHY THE H*** WOULDN’T YOU?! I suppose I’ll have to catch them myself.”

Next Customer: *taps her on the shoulder and rolls up his sleeve revealing long scar* “I wouldn’t suggest it…”

(Happy to say he got a free meal and got to hold a baby gator!)

(My friend and I often make up stories and tell them to each other just for entertainment. It is around seven pm, so both of us have to be home in about an hour. We’ve been talking about some random stuff a few minutes before, but now my friend has started to tell me her story, in which a character is haunted by a hallucination of her mirror reflection telling her to commit suicide.)

Friend: *imitating the reflection’s low, scary voice* “There’s just a little time left…”

Me: *mumbling to myself, thinking that she’s talking about how much time we have before we have to go home* “But, we still seem to have a whole hour left…”

Friend: *continuing with the story* “You only have to wait a little bit…”

Me: “But look, we can still do a load of things in an hour…”

Friend: *not having heard my mumbling* “It won’t even hurt much…”

Me: “Oh! Wait, so were you talking about the story all this time?”

Friend: “And what did you think, that I was trying to kill you?”

(I look considerably younger than I really am and get into a lot of weird or embarrassing situations because of that. I’m reading at the park when I’m approached by a bunch of teenagers who can’t be more than 15 or 16. It’s obvious that the leader of the group is trying to hit on me.)

Me: “Okay, how old are you exactly?”

Teenager: “15. How old are you?”

Me: “How old do you think I am?”

Teenager: “16? Maybe 17?”

Me: “Try 23.”

Teenager: “Oh… wow.”

(They all awkwardly shuffled away and finally left me alone. To all those people who tell me that it’s a blessing that I look so young, you’ve probably never been a legal adult who was hit on by a kid that can’t even drive!)

(I’m about 10 years old and have taken my younger brother to the park. I’m just sitting on the swings waiting for him to finish playing. I’m wearing ripped jeans (it is the early 1990s) and very tatty shoes. A younger girl comes up, huffs at me, and sticks her hands on her hips.)

Girl: “Huh! Why don’t you sew up your jeans?”

Me: “It’s the fashion.”

Girl: “Hmm! Why don’t you sew up your shoes?”

Me: “Why don’t you sew up your mouth?”