(I am a customer in line at a grocery store, standing behind two Japanese girls. The employee bagging their groceries is clearly mentally challenged and her work is a little slow, but neat. The girls smile as they start saying rude things about her in their native tongue.)

Rude Girl #1: *in Japanese* “God, what’s wrong with this girl? She’s taking forever.”

Rude Girl #2: *in Japanese* “I don’t know. Maybe she’s a friend of the manager or something. I mean, look at her, smiling like an idiot.”

(They laugh, and I’ve had enough. I’m not totally fluent in Japanese, but I know enough.)

Me: *in Japanese* “She may not know what you’re saying, but I do. I won’t hurt her feelings by telling her so, but I think you both should be quiet right about now.”

(I smiled sweetly at the pair. Both girls went pale and shut up, not saying another word as they took their bags and left. The employee thanked me for what I did, since she had an inkling as to what was going on, and her smile made my day.)

(I work at a company that makes big rockets — the kind that put satellites into orbit. One of my coworkers, a slacker, drops a large wrench onto one, damaging it so badly it is scrapped. Cost: $6,000,000. He is given a month’s unpaid suspension as punishment, but the union argues “poor training,” resulting in full back pay. A year later, he leaves the building while pressurizing another, more complete rocket. A bulkhead collapses, resulting in a second scrapping. Cost this time: $12,000,000! This time the company finds a way to get rid of him. They call him to HR, along with his union steward.)

HR: “I’d like you to read through your original employment application, and tell me if there are any errors.”

Slacker: “Uh, no, it looks fine.”

HR: “Okay, just to be sure, you didn’t make any mistakes filling it out?”

Slacker: “No, everything is accurate.”

HR: “Thank you. You’re fired. It seems you lied about a felony conviction.”

Slacker: *looks pleadingly at union steward*

Union Steward: *shrugs*

(My dad and I have ordered pizza for takeout and are waiting to pick it up when a man comes in and goes straight to the cashier.)

Customer: “Excuse me. I ordered a vegetarian pizza with marinara sauce but no tomatoes, and it came with tomatoes on it.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get that fixed for you right away.”

Customer: “No, no, no. It’s no problem really but I just want to tell you that tomatoes can be an allergen. Now, I’m not allergic, but some people might be, so just be careful next time.”

(The man then leaves the shop.)

Me: *to my dad* “You know, if I was allergic to tomatoes, I probably wouldn’t be ordering a pizza with marinara sauce on it.”

(A while back I briefly looked at a book on the “New Fiction” wall in a bookstore and decided I didn’t really want to get it. Fast forward a few months. I can’t get that book out of my mind. I go to the bookstore in search of it and have to ask one of the cashiers for help.)

Me: “I have possibly an impossible question.”

Cashier: “All right. Well, shoot, and I’ll see if I can help you out.”

Me: “Okay. A while ago I came in and saw a book, but the thing is I can’t remember what the name was, who it was by, or what it looked like. All I know is that it was on the ‘New Fiction’ wall and it was about a cat.”

Cashier: “Hmm… Yeah, that’s tough. Well, do you know when you saw it? I can search up keywords on the computer, but a date would be more helpful.”

Me: “I feel so bad. I have no idea when I saw it. A few months ago, maybe? Definitely before September last year.”

Cashier: “Um… Okay. Let’s try looking up from January to now and put a few keywords in. Let’s go with cats and fiction… All right, it looks like we’ve got twelve books that came up.”

Me: “Well, that’s a lot less than I had thought would come up.”

Cashier: *after cancelling out ten books that were about cat training and behavior* “How about this one? [Book] is about a cat who used to live with a lady, but one day the lady never returned. Instead, her daughter came and picked her up, along with packing up all her mother’s belongings, and now the cat has to try and fit into her new lifestyle.”

Me: “Wow. Yes, that’s it. You are wonderful. Thank you so much!”

(I’m driving home from the grocery store at around 2:00 pm and I am about to pull into a left turn lane. This is a really busy street. A bunch of cars in front of me get a green light and are about to start going. One car throws their door open and drops a tiny kitten out onto the middle of the road in front of my car. I stop my car, blocking the lane, throw on my hazards, and hop out. Yes, I realize it’s incredibly dangerous, and a really poorly thought-out move.)

Me: “Here, kitty.”

(As I make noises to call the cat, a woman on the other side of the street calls out to me.)

Woman: “Is that your baby?”

Me: “No! Someone just threw it on to the road.”

Woman: “If it comes this way, I’ll grab it.”

(I am able to run, grab the kitten, and wrap it in my sweater, but not without getting scratched and bitten. It calms down, and I’m able to get strapped in before any other cars come by in my lane and before the light turns green. I head home and wake my husband up.)

Me: *crying and talking fast* “Babe, I was driving home and someone dropped a kitten out of their car in front of me. I’ll totally take it to the humane society since we said we didn’t want more pets. But I’m upset and I need you.”

Husband: *calming me down* “Looks like we have a new member of the family.”

(It’s been three weeks. The vet says he’s perfectly healthy. He’s fully acclimated to our other three cats and our kids. He’s the sweetest little love bug. Thanks to the jerk who threw a kitten out of their car, we now have an amazing new member of the family.)