(My school has recently installed a proper fire alarm system, and naturally, the pranksters love to set it off. It is quite insane; we have alarms every day, sometimes even several times a day. After a while, we get used to it. This particular day is like any other. We are sitting in the class when the alarm starts blaring. No one even blinks; the teacher just raises her voice to be heard over the noise.)

Teacher: *after a few minutes* “This is taking oddly long this time. [Student], go see what’s going on.”

(The student leaves the classroom, but returns very quickly.)

Student: “The hallway is full of smoke! I think this is a real alarm!”

(Luckily, it turned out to have been just one trash can that someone had thrown a cigarette butt into, which was swiftly dealt with by the janitors. However, we weren’t the only class to have had a non-reaction to the alarm; some didn’t even learn about the smoke until later in the day. It was a chilling realisation that had there been an actual fire, everyone in the building could’ve easily died because we didn’t associate the alarms with danger anymore. The prank alarms stopped abruptly after that day.)

(I respond to a few of those infamous “nice house for rent at an unreasonably low price” ads, thinking at worst they’re obvious scams and no harm done, or at best I’ve found the deal of the century. I get various replies to my emails of inquiry, all obvious scams. What I notice, though, is how many of them are using the same story: “I’m a Christian missionary going on a two-year missions trip to Africa, and I want to find a nice Christian family to take care of my house while I’m gone. I’ve already left, so please just send me a $100 good-faith deposit and I’ll send you the keys and let you look around. We can exchange paperwork afterwards if you like the place.” I decide to amuse myself in an email exchange.)

Me: “You’re going on a missions trip to Africa, too? Hallelujah! I’ve recently been in contact with [Other Scammer who replied to my emails] about their house also for rent. Do you know each other?”

Scammer: “Yes, we all know each other; we are on the same mission trip.”

Me: “That’s amazing. How many of you are going?”

Scammer: “There are twelve people going. Please send the good faith deposit and I will send you the keys.”

Me: “What about [Yet Another Scammer with the same scam]?”

Scammer: “Yes, we are all friends and are here in Africa together. Here is a link where you can send the good faith deposit.”

Me: “Well, I think it’s wonderful how so many of you are together doing the Lord’s work. It’s too bad all of you had to leave so quickly and none of you could find renters for these nice houses.”

Scammer: “Well, we leave very quickly. Please let me know if you have other questions.”

Me: “Thank you; I do. What are the names of the streets their houses are on?”

Scammer: “I do not understand and do not know about their houses; that is their responsibility. Please send the $100 so I can send you the keys. I know you will love my house.”

Me: “Well, you’re all there together, so can you ask them? Let me know if it’ll take time to reach them if they’re not right next to you; I can wait. I don’t even need both street names. Just one. Name one of the streets their houses are on. And if you can manage that, I’ll throw in a $10,000 donation to your mission trip, whether or not I go with your house.”

(I never heard back.)

(I have a job in which I am paired with a colleague and sent to various neighborhoods around town. If our assignments are close enough to the office, we walk. For a while, I am paired with a guy who is nice enough but has a few odd personality quirks. Sometimes, the only way for me to avoid getting mad at him is to play some harmless practical jokes. We are walking back to the office one evening after an assignment that went longer than expected. It is dark, and the street we are on is mostly deserted.)

Colleague: “I’m going to walk with my eyes closed!”

Me: “Why?”

Colleague: “Just for fun.”

(He mostly closes his eyes, but I can tell he is keeping one open just a tiny bit.)

Me: “Hey, watch out for that big rock!”

Colleague: “What? Where?”

(He opens his eyes and looks around, almost falling over while trying to avoid tripping over a rock that isn’t there.)

Colleague: “Hey! There’s no rock! You tricked me!”

Me: “Well, maybe you shouldn’t walk with your eyes closed, then.”

Colleague: “Hmph!”

(He closes his eyes again. I wait a minute or two.)

Me: “Oh, look! A dollar on the sidewalk!”

Colleague: “It’s mine!”

(He darts forward a few steps, searching the ground. When he realizes there is no dollar, he glares at me. I laughs.)

Colleague: “Jerk.”

Me: *laughing*

(And he closes his eyes again!)

Colleague: “I’m not going to let you trick me again. I don’t care what you say; I’m not falling for it.”

(I try warning him about another nonexistent rock, but it doesn’t work. He gets a smug look on his face. I get another idea.)

Me: “Good evening, ma’am. Lovely time for a walk, isn’t it?”

(My colleague opens his eyes and looks around, trying to figure out who I am talking to. There is nobody on the sidewalk except us, but until I burst out laughing, he is convinced that I am talking to someone.)

Colleague: “That’s it. I’m requesting a transfer.”

My maternal grandfather had an accident with a power tool when he was younger, leaving him with three partial fingers. His pinky was the shortest, ending at the first knuckle, his ring finger was cut off between the knuckles, and his middle finger at the last knuckle.

One thing he loved to do was wait until a kid was watching him, then start picking his nose with his index finger. After a while he’d switch to his next finger, then the next, watching the kid’s eyes get wider and wider. If you didn’t know he was missing parts of his fingers, it looked like he was shoving them farther and farther up his nose. He would finally move on to his pinky stub, making it look like he had an entire finger shoved up his nostril, while the kid’s eyes bugged out of their head.

(We hire a bunch of college kids to fill in during the summertime when people are on vacation. It isn’t that big a deal; they just have to run down the script, and if that doesn’t take care of the problem, they transfer the customer to the next level. One of the guys is something special. He is studying computer science and he, “doesn’t need no script to help people.” I am eager to put that to the test. I create an outage report for a customer area in our training system and create a customer in that area that I can be. Then, I am able to live every support tech’s dream: I can be the a**hole customer to a smart-a** know-it-all.)

New Guy: “Welcome to [ISP] Tech Support. My name—”

Me: *yelling* “DON’T GIVE ME THAT CRAP; MY INTERNET ISN’T WORKING!”

New Guy: “Yes, what lights are on on your router?”

Me: *louder* “Don’t talk that technobabble with me, sonny. Fix my Internet!”

New Guy: “I can only help you if you tell me—”

Me: *even louder* “Sonny, listen: you fix my Internet or you’ll be sorry!”

New Guy: “So, what lights are on?”

Me: “Huh? One is on and one is flashing every now and then.”

New Guy: “Ah, yes, so we’re getting a signal.”

Me: “I DON’T WANT NO STUPID SIGNAL; I WANT MY INTERNET!”

(By now, the floor outside is filling with coworkers who want to see what the commotion is about.)

New Guy: “Could you reboot the router for me?”

Me: *huffing* “Fine!” *rebooting PC* “What now?”

New Guy: “No, not the computer, the—”

Me: *back to yelling* “What did I tell you before? Don’t do that technobabble with me; just fix my d*** Internet!”

(I let him suffer for another minute, and since I’m getting kinda hoarse from yelling constantly, I eventually take him off the hook, not without him muttering that “nobody can help that stupid git.” He hands the headset to a female coworker.)

Coworker: “Welcome to [ISP] Tech Support. This—”

Me: *yelling* “MY INTERNET ISN’T WORKING!”

Coworker: “Yes, sir, may I have your name?”

Me: “[Fake Name]! NOW FIX MY INTERNET! Stupid woman probably doesn’t know jack s*** about the whole crap, anyway. Why do they even try…”

Coworker: *mutes me while looking up the relevant info*

(I keep rambling while I can’t help but grin inwardly. By now I have to gesture to the coworkers on the floor to shut up their laughter.)

Coworker: *unmutes* “Sir? There’s an outage in your area. Your Internet will return in about three hours. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

(And then, Mr. I-Study-Computer-Science says the magical words that make the floor resound with laughter:)

New Guy: “Oh, c’mon. No customer is that stupid!”