(My parents are age-appropriate but frank about sex education when I am growing up, and as such, I grow up using the proper names for parts of the reproductive system. Every Monday in kindergarten we focus on a different letter of the alphabet, practice their sounds, and name words that start with the letter in question. The teacher writes the words down to help with basic reading. Naturally, one week we get to the letter V.)

Teacher: “Who can think of a word that begins with V?”

(I raise my hand and she calls on me.)

Five-Year-Old Me: “Vagina!”

Teacher: *after just a second of hesitation, and with hardly a reaction* “Very good, yes. Anyone else?”

(I was a little disappointed when she didn’t write down my word but moved on from it quickly. Kudos to my teacher for handling it as she did. I was told years later, though, that she called my mother later that afternoon and they both had a huge laugh over it.)

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(I am part of my school’s film club, and we are on the last leg of shooting our first official short film. It’s cold, and we’ve been shooting for fourteen hours so everyone’s exhausted, but we still need these last couple of scenes, so we’re putting up with it. We can’t afford to pay our cast and crew, so we decide to buy pizza for everyone. My friend calls in the order.)

Friend: “Hi. I’d like three large [specialty pizzas] for delivery to [address], please.”

Employee: “You said [address]?”

Friend: “Yes. We’re filming a movie out at the park next to the aquarium.”

Employee: “Okay, got it. Your order will arrive in about forty minutes.”

(More than an hour later, it still hasn’t arrived, so I call the store, thinking the address threw them off.)

Me: “Hey. I just wanted to check on the status of our order.”

Employee: “Oh… Oh, I see. I’m so sorry, but your driver was in a car accident and had to go to the hospital. Would you like me to refund your order, or—“

Me: “Oh, my gosh. Is he okay?”

Employee: “Yeah, he’ll be fine. It was a minor accident. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

(I was shocked at how eager he seemed to quell my supposed fury, though having worked in food and bev before I could kind of understand. We just sent one of the crew to pick up a fresh order to appease the ravenous actors. I called the store the next day, and it turned out the delivery person was T-boned by a drunk driver, but thankfully escaped with barely a scratch.)

(I’m at one of the largest, most popular dining halls on campus. It’s not unusual for younger kids — siblings visiting or professor’s children — to be there, as well. I am going to grab something from the salad bar when I see a girl, probably around seven, trying to reach one of the glasses for a drink. There aren’t that many left and they are all pushed to the back of the counter, and she’s struggling to reach one. I walk over and grab one for her.)

Me: “Here, hun.”

Girl: “Thanks!”

(A minute later, while I’m still close by to her as she fills her glass, I see who I assume to be her father walk up to her. He sees the glass at her hand and looks over at the pile of glasses, which are obviously out of her grasp.)

Man: “Oh, did a grownup get that for you?”

Girl: *shaking her head and pointing to me* “No, she did.”

(The girl’s dad and I made eye contact and we both laughed. I guess at twenty I still wasn’t a grownup!)

(It’s the week before spring break. I have a ton of work due over the next few days and I am stressing quite a bit. It’s Tuesday night, around 1:30 am, and one of my three roommates leaves for twenty minutes and comes back into the dorm with a guy in tow. I’m sitting on the couch writing a paper and eating M&Ms out of a large jug my mother bought me as a random gift a few weeks ago.)

Guy: *looks at the candy, then back up at me* “It’s like that, huh?”

(I have no idea what he means, but I shrug and say sure. This isn’t the first time she’s brought a random dude in at ungodly hours and I don’t have time to have a conversation. As the evening goes on, it’s apparent that he doesn’t plan on leaving for the night. Come 3:30, he’s still in the room I share with my roommate — we live in a two-bedroom, apartment-style dorm, two girls to each room — and they’re LOUD, laughing, making noises and watching TV. There is no way I am going to be able to sleep with a random dude in my room and with so much noise, but I don’t feel like starting a fight at 3:00 am, so I quietly grab a pillow and blanket from my bed and sleep on the couch. The guy doesn’t leave until almost 6:00 am on Wednesday morning. My roommate all but ignores me until 11:00 pm the next day, but has no problem loudly complaining to another roommate about my behavior last night. I wasn’t rude when retrieving the pillow and blanket, and I never once complained about them, so I am confused as to why I am the bad guy. I shrug it off. I want to say something, but being in an active fight with my roommate sounds more like an annoyance than a solution so I ignore her.)

Roommate: *icily and not making eye contact* “[Guy] apologizes that you felt you had to sleep on the couch last night.” *emphasis on “apologizes”*

(She then rolled over to play on her phone, and the silence between us was deafening. I had somehow offended her by quietly retreating to the couch to sleep, but the fact that she brought a guy in, without warning, from 2:00 to 6:00 am on Wednesday morning was fine? I think I’m going to put in for a room change.)

(I am walking a family of two around my department, trying to help them get the correct products to paint their kitchen. When it comes to color choices:)

Adult Grandson: “Meemaw, she needs you to choose the color you want.”

Meemaw: “Shoot, I don’t care! You choose; you’re going to live longer than me, anyway!”

Adult Grandson: “Meemaw, I’m colorblind!”

(In the end, Meemaw chose the yellow, and I ended up choosing the brown for the cabinets. Hope they like it!)