(I start working in retail when I am 25. I’ve always looked younger than I am, but after about a year of working in the store, I have a conversation with a customer I doubt I’ll ever forget. At the end of the transaction:)

Customer: “You should quit and go back to school.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You should quit this useless job and go back to school so you can do something with your life.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve already graduated from high school.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me; you need to go back and finish so you can do something useful instead of this.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m 26. I’ve graduated from high school. I’ve done a year and a half at university. I worked in child care for six and a half years. I switched to retail for something different.”

Customer: “There’s no way you’re 26; go back to school and stop making up stories.”

(I happen to have my license in my pocket that day, so I take it out and show her my date of birth.)

Me: “Ma’am, as you can see, I’m 26, nearly 27. I graduated from high school a decade ago this November.”

Customer: “I still don’t believe you.”

Me: “You don’t have to. Have a nice day.”

Customer: “Hey, do you have any thigh cookbooks?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “You know, thigh cookbooks, for thigh cooking.”

Me: “My apologies. Do you mean thigh, as in, chicken thighs?”

Customer: “No no, the Asian cooking.”

Me: “Oh! Thai! Right this way…”

(Our company has brought in a new policy to force staff to sign up customers to their loyalty card; we have to meet a specific number each week or face disciplinary action. As a supervisor, I often bring up things I see as issues with my manager.)

Me: *to my manager* “What’s to stop people from adding fake names just to get their quota?”

Manager: “Why do you always do that?”

Me: “Do what?’

Manager: “You always see the worst in things, like last week when I wanted to remove the security code from the door to the staff area and you told me that someone could get in there and steal from the staff lockers.”

Me: “I’m only bringing up things that I can see that could be a problem.”

Manager: “I just can’t believe that you think like that; I don’t think I can trust you.” *walks off*

(Fast forward a few weeks:)

Manager: “Oh, my God, did you hear that there’s been quite a few staff in other stores who have been fired because they were putting in fake names for [loyalty card]? I wonder why no one thought of that in the first place.”

(I am AFAB — assigned female at birth — and go by she/they pronouns. I am spending the day with a genderfluid AFAB friend. We’re on a popular shopping street in Brisbane and are waiting for the lights to change before crossing to the bus station. On the other side of the street, a man is standing on a literal soapbox, quoting Bible verses about sin and how everyone around him will be condemned to Hell.)

Friend: “Gimme your hand.”

(We cross the street hand in hand, and the man grows louder as he sees us pass by.)

Friend: “Hang on.”

(They stopped on the sidewalk and kissed me on the cheek, right in front of the man. Someone actually audibly gasped, and another person tried to hand them a Jesus pamphlet. We walked the rest of the way to the bus hand in hand.)

My sister is getting married. As her fiancé was raised Catholic, they’re having a Catholic wedding. Our side of the family is Christian, too, but we’re not familiar with Catholic rites or services, being a variety of other denominations. In addition, most of the friends of the bride and groom aren’t religious and so also aren’t familiar with Catholic practises.

Regardless of our inexperience, everything goes smoothly and my sister and her fiancé exchange vows and rings. The priest then invites my now brother-in-law to kiss his wife.

Awaiting the classic “I now pronounce you husband and wife” line which isn’t actually used, the guests don’t quite realise that this is the big moment and there are a few heartbeats of silence.

“There’s usually a big cheer right about here,” the priest prompts, and we all start clapping.

“We’d better try that again!” the priest jokes, inviting my brother-in-law to kiss his wife again.

This time we raise the roof with claps, cheers, and laughter!