I’m outside in my store’s garden center. I am the only cashier out there — and sometimes the only employee out there at all. I have a small line, but it’s nothing too serious until the woman I’m serving speaks up.

Woman: “You need to call security. The woman behind me has been stealing.”

Startled, I look to the woman behind her, who thrusts her cart forward abruptly, nearly hitting the woman who called her a thief.

Woman: “Can I have six feet distance, please?! That is not six feet!”

Of course, I want to report her if she’s been stealing, but because I haven’t caught her at it, I can’t. The two women begin arguing as I continue to ring the woman out, and I try to figure out if it would actually make things worse to call a manager. I’m worried things may get physical.

Finally, I finish ringing the woman out, but instead of leaving, she merely moves forward enough for the “thief” to push her cart up to the register. Now I’m VERY worried, as I consider a physical confrontation almost inevitable, but I’m still scared of “involving” myself by acting to stop them.

They continue to snap at each other for a few minutes, and then both give each other a haughty glare before falling silent. I continue ringing out the second woman quietly, nearly having an anxiety attack, when the first woman turns around again and holds her purse out to her adversary.

Woman: “Did you want to use my card, mom?”

I almost broke down right then. I’d been terrified that I’d have to intervene in a fight, assuming I didn’t start it myself by calling a manager on them, and it had been a joke the whole time! Once I’d calmed down — long after they had gone — I was furious.

I sold an item on social media, only to be let down and ignored. It was annoying but not the first or last time that would happen. The odd thing was that the buyer came back to me and (without apologising) told me she did actually want the item and asked if she could have it.

No sooner did I say yes than she suddenly stopped answering my messages. I blocked her and moved on.

A week later, I got another message: new person, same pattern. I checked out her profile; it was a friend of the first woman. I blocked her and moved on.

Three more of her friends did the same thing. I blocked all of them. It didn’t bother me as much as confuse me how anyone had so little going on in their lives that this was entertaining.

Then, I thought of a plan. I got another message; it was another one of her friends.

Customer: “Is this available?”

Me: “Yes, it is. In fact, due to the number of time-wasters, it’s free if you can collect.”

I heard nothing all day. I thought they hadn’t taken the bait. Then…

Customer: “It’s for my friend. She says she wants it.”

Me: “Okay, great. The address is [address].”

Customer: “I thought you were in [Area]?”

There’s no way she could know this unless she spoke to the first woman.

Me: “Oh, yes, but I was selling it because we moved house. We are no longer in [Area].”

Customer: “Okay, I will have to get back to you.”

I heard nothing for two days, and then:

Customer: “Okay, she will have it. I want to come today.”

Me: “Sure thing, any time after six. Just follow your satnav and ask for me when you get to the gate.”

There was only one way to get to the address through a long, muddy, single-lane road with no lights and lots of brambles. At the end of the road was a little-known military testing site. I doubt they gave them a friendly reception as they don’t appreciate people wandering up.

I blocked the last woman and donated the items to a local charity. I’ve never heard anything since.

During our Easter break in my sixth-grade year, my grandmother finds an orphaned squirrel kit and watches it for a couple of days before she can find a place that can properly care for it.

Upon going back to school, I tell a girl that I am semi-friends with about it. I don’t recall how or why this happens, but I decide to mess with her and manage to convince her that squirrels lay eggs. Looking back, I realize this was kind of mean, but I was eleven and figured she was most likely pretending to believe me or that she’d bring it up to someone like her parents who would set her straight in the off chance she wasn’t. I promptly forget about our conversation within a few days since she doesn’t bring it up again.

Fast forward about a month, we’re learning about the major animal classifications and we’re on the section about mammals. 

Teacher: “With the exceptions of the platypus and echidna, mammals do not lay eggs, but instead give birth to live young… Yes, [Girl]?”

Girl: “What about squirrels?”

At this point, I kind of freeze in horror as I realize what’s happening.

Teacher: “Squirrels?”

Girl: “Yeah, [My Name] told me they lay eggs, too!”

Of course, now the room’s attention shifts from her to me, and I’m barely able to squeak out a response.

Me: “I didn’t think you actually believed me!”

Poor [Girl] looked utterly mortified, and our teacher looked like she wanted to retire right then and there. [Girl] didn’t talk to me for the rest of the time we attended school together. I can’t say that I blame her.

I’ve been staying with a friend in Cardiff and have just arrived at the station to catch my train home. An international rugby match has recently finished, and the traffic caused by this meant it took longer than anticipated to get to the station, and I’m in real danger of missing my train. As such, I am sprinting full pelt through the concourse, carrying my overnight bag over my shoulder.

As I run, I approach a group of rugby fans walking in the opposite direction. One of them, evidently thinking they’re about to pull the prank of the century, jumps out in front of me, yelling, “Boo!”

There’s absolutely no way I can stop in time, and I barrel straight into the hapless moron, sending him flying. I lose my balance, too, but somehow maintain my forward momentum, turn my stumble into a roll, get back to my feet, and continue on my way.

Behind me, I hear my wannabe roadblock protesting that I’ve hurt him, but one of his friends, laughing, tells him off for being a d**k and says that it was his own d*** fault.

I’m finishing up drinks and calling them out to customers.

Me: *Reading the name written on the cup* “I’m… I’m not reading that, I—” *huge sigh*

I slam the drink down with the most disappointed voice I can muster.

Me: “Daddy. I have a drink here for Daddy.”