We are taking a high-level international language exam.

Exam Overseer: *Reading out the rules.* “As you have been warned, all use of digital devices is strictly prohibited. Breaking this rule will result in your exam result being invalidated. If you have any questions, you may raise your hand, and a member of the staff will approach you. The staff are not allowed to answer questions regarding the content of the exam.”

At this point, a cat nonchalantly wanders into the classroom.

Students: *Various exclamations of:* “Look! A kitty! Over there!”

Staff Member: “Oh… She must have gotten curious about all the people coming here on a Sunday…”

Exam Overseer: *Without breaking pace or changing his intonation.* “The cat lives here and is part of the staff. She will not give any hints regarding the exam either.”

Student: “Hey, kitty! Over here! Ps-ps-ps!”

Exam Overseer: “There is no use calling to her. The cat will choose one deserving of her presence as she pleases.”

As we begin the test, the cat wanders between the desks, surveying her new servants. Eventually, I am honored to have her settle next to my chair.

The ban on electronic devices feels extremely restricting now that we’re sharing space with a kitty we’re not allowed to take photos of.

After two hours, we go on a short break. As we file back into the classroom, the exam overseer goes to his seat… only to find it occupied by the cat.

Exam Overseer: “Oh… Well.”

He proceeds to stand for the entire hour-long listening section. When I was leaving the classroom after the exam finished, the cat was still sleeping undisturbed in his chair.

I am blind and have a guide dog. My husband and I go into a liquor store.

Clerk: “NO DOGS!”

Husband: “That’s her guide dog. She’s blind.”

Clerk: “No. Dogs.”

Husband: “He’s literally the most commonly recognised service dog.”

Me: “He’s legally allowed in the store. Call your manager if you need to verify.”

We continue into the store while I hear the clerk paging a manager. The manager finds us and says:

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry. That’s obviously a service dog. You are fine. I explained it to the clerk.”

Me: “That’s okay. Everyone needs to learn sometime.”

We find what we want and head for the cash register. Neither of us looks under fifty years old.

Clerk: “I can’t sell that to you.”

Husband: “Why?”

Clerk: “Because I need to see a license for everyone, and IF she is really blind, she doesn’t have one.”

Me: “No, but I do have a state ID. You can use that.”

Clerk: “It has to be a license.”

Husband: “Call your manager now.”

Clerk: “Nope. I’m refusing service.”

Another customer overhears this and finds the manager. He comes up, gets the explanation of the problem, and seems confused.

Manager: “Have you been refusing to sell to people with state IDs instead of licenses?”

Clerk: “Only a driver’s license is valid.”

Manager: “No, only state IDs or federal IDs are valid. Driving is not necessary, just being 21 or older.”

Clerk: “You are going to get me fined for not getting proper ID! I’m not selling to a blind woman who can’t drive.”

The manager took a moment to reboot his brain. Then he sent the clerk to take out the trash and took over the register. He assured me that there was going to be a lot of retraining in his future. As he’s bagging up our purchase, I hear him mumbling.

Manager: “I guess I should just be glad he didn’t insist the dog was underage and didn’t have a driver’s license.”

Mum: “I just met the neighbours. They seem nice. They have two boys and a dog.”

Me: “What are their names?”

Mum: “I forgot their names, actually, except the dog!”

Me: “Ha. So typical of you. What’s the dog called?”

Mum: “Hamlet.”

Me: “Is he a Great Dane?”

Mum: “…no? Why?”

Me: “Never mind.”

Dad: *Penny dropping.* “Ha!”

Mum: “What is it? What am I not getting? Is it a dad joke?”

Dad: “More like a dead dad joke.”

I’m a veterinarian. A worried woman comes in with her dog.

Woman: “My dog hasn’t eaten for two days.”

I begin with the basics.

Me: “Any vomiting? Diarrhea? Is he acting sluggish?”

Woman: *Shakes her head.* “No. He’s acting totally normal. He just won’t eat.”

Me: “Did you switch his food or anything?”

Woman: *Hesitates.* “Well… I did open a new bag of food.”

I ask to take a look. She’s smart: she thought it might be the food, so she brought the bag in, just in case I knew to look for a subtle change in ingredients or something.

Me: “This is his usual brand?”

Woman: “Yes. He likes the beef.”

On closer inspection, I notice she’s picked up chicken flavor instead of beef. The bags are nearly identical, just one word changed.

Meanwhile, the dog is sitting there, tail wagging, looking perfectly happy. No signs of dehydration.  

The diagnosis was clear: hunger strike.

I arrive at work to find my manager standing in front of the glass panel that’s next to my office door. He has his face pressed against the glass and his hands cupped around his eyes as if he’s trying to spy something in the darkness of the unlit interior.

Me: “Uh, good morning [Manager]?”

My manager jumps and whirls around, exhaling in relief when he sees me.

Manager: “Oh, it’s just you. Sorry. Uh, yeah, uh, I actually meant to call you and say you might want to work from home today. We’ve, um, got a bit of a situation here.”

Me: “A situation? What happened?”

My manager jerks his head back to the glass window as something audibly thumps against it. I look over and behold, there’s a bat, a legit winged sky-puppy, flying around my office, occasionally ramming into the windows as it tries fruitlessly to escape.

Manager: “It was on the reception desk when I got in. I… erm… shooed it over to your office cause it’s the closest one. I’ve called animal control, but they’re taking their d*** time getting here!”

I watch as the bat continues madly flying around my workspace, occasionally retreating behind the potted plant I keep in the corner for a rest before resuming its attempts to find a way out of its predicament. My manager continually freaks out every time it gets near the door.

Me: “How…how did it get in here? We’re on the fifth floor, in the middle of the floor, and all the doors require keycards!”

Manager: “I don’t know! I just want it gone!”

Animal control finally showed up an hour later, after most of the staff had turned up and gotten to behold the spectacle of our unexpected visitor destroying my workspace.  

Thankfully, the bat was safely caught and removed without harm (aside from my coworkers wanting pictures of it in the handler’s hands) and I got to spend the rest of the morning cleaning up my desk and scrubbing the ‘parting gift’ from what was technically my first client (at least that’s what my coworkers joked it was) off the windowsill.