(I run and independent coffee shop on a very busy city centre street. We are known for our hearty and healthy food as well as home-baking and decent coffee. We also have a pretty strict “no outside food” policy. Our stuff is so good, so why would we let people bring their own stuff in? One day I arrive to find we have no water. I call the water board and they say that a pipe has burst in the area but that they are fixing it. The water, however, has been turned off in the area… maybe a mile radius. I put signs up saying explaining this and apologising, but we are still able to serve food, just no hot drinks or tap water. A couple come in for breakfast and see the signs, but I still explain the situation. She orders orange juice with her breakfast. He, however, doesn’t seem to get it.)

Man: “Just a filter coffee, please!”

Me: “I’m really sorry but due to the no water thing, I can only do cold drinks.”

Man “Oh, right. So… just a tea?”

Me: “Again, no water. I have bottles of iced tea?”

Man: *scoffing* “So you’re saying that your coffee shop has no coffee?!”

Me: “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. No water, in a mile wide radius. Really sorry about this but they are working on the burst pipe!”

Man: “Well, there’s a [Huge International Coffee Chain] on the corner. Can I go and get one of their coffees and bring it back?”

Me: *knowing they have no water either but still trying to be polite and nice* “Sure thing. If they are able to make coffee, you’re welcome to bring it back.”

(The man left, quite smugly, only to return moments later, empty handed. Apparently they had no water either. Something about a burst pipe in the area…)

Related:
H2-Slow To Realize, Part 2
H2-Slow To Realize

(I am in the car with my three-and-a-half-year-old son on our way home from the toy shop. He picked out a stuffed tiger. It should be noted that he occasionally forgets what he named his toys.)

Me: “That’s a very cool tiger. What will you name him?”

Son: “Mummy, it’s a girl!”

Me: “Okay, she still needs a name.” *trying to think of something he can remember* “How about Fluffy?”

Son: “No.”

Me: “Stripes?”

Son: “No.”

Me: “What about Ginger?”

Son: “I don’t like those names!”

Me: “So what will you call her?”

Son: “Georgia Wagstaff!”

(I have no idea where he heard those names but two years later the tiger is still named Georgia Wagstaff and he still plays with her.)

Patron: “Do you have any non-dairy ice cream?”

Me: “Yes, we do. At the bottom.”

Patron: “Why are they all the way down there? It makes you look anti-vegan.”

Me: “Because that’s where our desserts are…”

(My family has an unwritten rule to never talk about my trans identity. They aren’t transphobic or anything; it’s just they don’t see it as a problem and support my transition fully. One member of the family, though, never seems to get the memo: my aunt from Ireland. She is transphobic, homophobic, and basically sees LGBT as a sign of a crumbling society that worships the devil, etc. She and my uncle are visiting, and sadly the topic shifts to my being trans.)

Aunt: “Have you found yourself a man yet to straighten you out?”

Me: “Well, since I’m a gay trans man, I don’t think finding a man will help much.”

(She pretended not to hear and lambasted my entire existence for the rest of the evening. When my dad asked her to leave, she guilt tripped him by asking what would their mother think of him throwing out his poor younger sister. For the rest of the week, she called me by my old female name, and bought me a present before leaving: a large collection of makeup and vouchers for lip injections. I told her she probably needed them more than I do, and she swore she would never visit again. Fingers crossed.)

(I got my dad a Nintendo 3DS for Christmas, as he was playing around with my brain training game and he wanted one for himself. He also occasionally helps himself to my games. I’m fine with it as long as he doesn’t delete my saves. Recently he has been on it every time I’ve seen him, and he’s so engrossed he doesn’t really do anything else. I’m tempted to ask him, but I decide to let him enjoy his gaming. Finally one evening he asks me:)

Dad: “How many of these things do I have to kill until I can move on? It keeps saying I’m moving levels but nothing happens.”

(I take the console and realise he’s playing Bravely Default. He is still in the starting zone. I check his character’s levels. He has only got the first character unlocked, and it’s level is quite high.)

Me: “My God, Dad. He’s level 22!”

Dad: “Is that good?”

Me: “Well, I was only like level five when I got the airship.”

Dad: “So, is that good?”

Me: “Yeah, I guess.”

Dad: “So what do I do?”

Me: “You see the little bubble with the exclamation mark in it? You just go to that and it should progress the story.”

Dad: “Oh, so it isn’t like Mario?”

Me: “No, this is an RPG.”

Dad: “Oh, I wanted something like Mario. I guess I shouldn’t play it.”

Me: “Have you been enjoying it?”

Dad: “Yeah!”

Me: “Then keep playing it!”

(I haven’t been able to touch the game since…)