I’m selling collectable Pokémon cards at one of the various Comic-Cons. A boy, maybe ten or so, sees one of my rare cards and starts ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ over it.

Boy: “Wow, you have [Collectable]!”

Me: “Yes, it’s definitely one of the rarer ones!”

Boy’s Mom: “Can you give it to him?”

Me: “Yes, for $100.”

Boy’s Mom: “What! But he’s only ten!”

Me: “So?”

Boy’s Mom: “What do you mean, so?! He’s a child! That’s a child’s toy! You should let him have it if you’re a decent person!”

Me: “No.”

Boy’s Mom: “What do you mean, no?!”

Me: “You seem to be having trouble comprehending, ma’am, so let me explain. This is what is commonly known as a store. A store has items that are sold for money. Customers hand over said money and walk away with the item. I hope that clears things up for you.”

Boy’s Mom: “You are an obscene and indecent little man, and I pray that you go to Hell!”

Me: “I will, later! I’m playing the new Diablo game!”

The boy takes his mom’s hand and starts to lead her away.

Boy: “Mom, you promised. This is why I always come with Dad…”

My friend’s little cousin (six years old) is giving us all Pokémon names. When he gets to my biggest friend, he just says:

Cousin: “And you can be Pokémon Stadium!”

We all burst out laughing.

Friend: “I love how he skipped Snorlax or Wailord and just went straight for the whole frickin’ stadium!”

Cousin: “Because [Big Friend] is big and strong and likes to play Pokémon with me!”

Big Friend: “Yeah, man! I’m big, strong, and dependable!”

[Big Friend] sticks his tongue out at us.

Big Friend: “Y’all thought it was a burn! Kids know stuff, man!”

He turns back to the little cousin.

Big Friend: “Get out your Pokémon cards, little dude. Let’s leave these losers!”

I was playing on my Nintendo DS on the subway when I caught a random connection. I looked up to see if I could spot the other person with a DS, and I wound up locking eyes with this incredibly intense little boy who was seated a few benches away from me.

Kid: “DO YOU HAVE POKEMON?!”

I did, in fact, have Pokemon. With that, our fate was sealed. There’s this thing in the Pokemon games where if you meet the gaze of another trainer on your journey, then you must do battle. I had just experienced this in real life.

He destroyed me. All level 100s. I felt like I was an extra in a d*** anime doing battle with the protagonist.

His mom was wearing headphones but took them out as the train was approaching. She looked down at her son’s DS and sighed, obviously familiar with her son’s game and what certain screens mean.

Mom: “Oh, [Kid], I told you it’s okay to destroy strangers in your little game but not on the subway. They have anger issues.”

Most people in our team work remotely two or three days of the week. Of course, we’re still available for impromptu Zoom calls and meetings.

I’m physically present in the office today, and my manager asks to talk to me.

Manager: “So, someone complained that you were wearing a sweater on the Zoom call last week.”

Me: “A sweater? I remember what I was wearing; it didn’t have anything offensive on it.”

Manager: “No, no, I remember that it was a plain sweater. They complained that it wasn’t business attire.”

Me: “For scheduled meetings, I am always wearing a work shirt, even at home. That was an impromptu team meeting that I had five minutes’ notice for. I’d rather spend those five minutes getting my talking points for the meeting together instead of running upstairs to change my shirt.”

Manager: “Look, I just think it’s an easy fix to just… be prepared and wear a business shirt. At least from the waist up.”

Me: “Got it.”

For the next couple of weeks, the only meetings are the scheduled ones, so I am in proper business attire for those. Then, after three weeks, there’s another impromptu team meeting called, and everyone gets on it.

Manager: “[My Name], what are the comparable numbers on [older report]?”

Me: “Oh, that’s in last year’s file. Let me go get that as I have it printed out.”

I stand up and reveal my bright yellow Pikachu Pokémon pajama pants. I get the report, and the meeting proceeds as normal. My manager asks me to stay on after the call.

Manager: “Interesting pants.”

Me: “You said to keep it professional from the waist up!”

Manager: “I did… I did. You’re good. If that same person complains again, I’ll tell them to calm down a little.”

The next week in the office, the manager tells me that the same person did indeed complain. I respond that I also have gray Pokémon pants (featuring the Pokémon Machamp, for those who want to know) if they feel that would be a more professional color.

Manager: “I told them to just consider it lucky you were wearing pants at all… Also, where are you getting these Pokémon pants? They look really comfy!”

I’ve been collecting Pokémon trading cards since I was a kid. I started at age ten and now I am thirty-five, so my collection is pretty big.

I’m attending a Pokémon convention and am volunteering as a ‘trainer’ – I introduce new players to the game (adults and kids) and have a couple of games with them. Even though there are sixteen of us volunteering it’s quite busy so when a kid comes up to me for a game with his tired-looking mother, I try to be efficient and polite.

The introduction to the game is fun, and the kid is a quick study. His mom has already been buying him some cards here and there, but this is the first time he’s learned how to play. 

After our game, I decide to gift this kid one of my common low-value Charizard cards from my collection box. They’re sat next to one of the rarer holographic versions of the card.

Me: *Handing over the common card.* “Here you go, kid. Thanks for a good game.”

Kid: *Eyes landing on the holographic card.* “Oooh! What’s that one!”

I explain what the card is and what makes it special.

Kid: “Can I buy it from you?”

Me: “Ha, it’s not for sale. Also, it’s kinda expensive.”

Suddenly the kid’s mom chimes in.

Mother: “I’ll give you $5 for it.”

Me: “It’s not for sale, ma’am. If you like I can show you where you can buy it online if you’d like to buy it for him?”

I bring up the card on eBay. I do this as I know the mom is going to overreact when she sees just how much these rarer cards go for, but since I am not selling it she can direct her reaction to eBay or the world in general, and not to me.

Mother: *Looking at my phone.* “That price is ridiculous!”

Me: “I know, ma’am, but that’s how much they go for.”

Mother: “It’s a piece of card!”

Me: “Maybe so, but there’s a big market for them. Some cards go for tens of thousands.”

Mother: “That’s disgusting! So sad! You’re a grown man playing cards with kids!”

Kid: “Mom, it’s okay. He gave me a card and I—”

Mother: “—I will buy that card for $10 and frankly that’s already too much for a s***ty piece of card!”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s not for sale.”

Mother: “Where is your manager?”

Me: “I’m a volunteer.”

Mother: “I’m still going to get you fired!”

I sigh and call over one of the convention floor managers. The mother voices her complaint.

Manager: “So ma’am, our volunteer here gave up his time to teach your child how to play, and even gifted him a card, and you’re complaining because he won’t sell something that’s not for sale?”

Mother: “Well when you put it like that you make me sound like a b****!”

We both stare at her.

Kid: “Mom, can we go, please?”

Mother: “Fine! But I’ll never be coming back to one of these things again!”

I don’t know who looked more relieved when she said that, me or her poor kid.