(When my brother is sixteen he is just starting to fill out, but still looks gangly and breakable. However, having been into sports since he was three and having two older siblings who are rough on him, he’s a lot tougher than he looks. He’s playing soccer, and one of the guys on the other team is being an absolute terror but is good enough to hide his cheating from the referees. This frustrates everyone on my brother’s team, as well as the refs since they can’t kick him out if they can’t catch him. Eventually, my brother’s coach decides to place my brother opposite him. To the surprise of absolutely no one — we are all very involved in the soccer community, and all of the refs and a majority of the players and coaches in our age range know us, at least by reputation, if not personally — the first time that kid tries this with my brother, he is laid out flat. My brother doesn’t bother to hide what he is doing and is given a yellow card. The opposing coach pulls his player. Standing near the team benches, my mom is in a good position to hear the player and the coach talking about it. For context, a yellow card is a warning and a red card is an ejection from the game. Two yellows automatically add up to a red.)

Player: “I’m fine, Coach! I can still play!”

Coach: “You’re not going back out this game.”

Player: “C’mon, he’s already got a yellow. I’ll be fine.”

Coach: *exasperated* “Exactly! He’s already got a yellow! On the next hit, he’s leaving the field, anyway. He has no more reason to hold back! If I put you back on that field, you’re leaving it on a stretcher!”

(Exactly right, Coach. Exactly right. The player sat out the rest of the game and my brother carried the record of his yellow with pride. The player was a lot less vicious after that, now that the idea for how to be rid of him for good was planted. My brother was far from the only one willing to sit out two games if it came to it.)

(I’m not particularly interested in sports, while my boyfriend happens to be an athletic trainer. I have just brought him some fast food to a men’s lacrosse game he is working.)

Boyfriend: “So, do you understand how lacrosse is played?”

Me: “Sure! These boys have to score by handling their shafts while running down the field cradling the balls!”

Boyfriend: “…”

Me: “…”

Boyfriend: “…”

Me: *smiles sweetly*

Boyfriend: “Butthead.”

(My dad is the president of the baseball league and as such, I spend a lot of time at the baseball field. I often work in our snack shacks. I’m with my younger sister’s friend, working when this happens. An older woman comes up with a young boy who I assume is her grandson.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “One minute!”

(She then spends five minutes pointing out each of our snack options to her grandson and then telling him he won’t like them without consulting him. He then meekly says he wants pretzels. The lady rolls her eyes.)

Customer: “Fine.” *she grabs a bag*

Me: “That will be a dollar, please.”

(The lady starts laughing, half hysterically, half mocking. She stops and realizes I’m not joking.)

Customer: “I know you people want money, but fifty cents would be enough!”

(She pays and storms off.)

Sister’s Friend: “What just happened?”

Me: “H*** if I know.”

(For reference, we bought our snacks in bulk. Pretzels ended up costing us about fifty cents per bag. This insane lady didn’t understand that we were selling the pretzels cheap compared to actual stores.)

(My high school choir works concessions for home games and I usually take cash from the customers and hand back change. While I do get flirted with a bit, especially by the younger, drunk customers, this one just takes the cake. I take his order and hand back his change.)

Drunk Customer: “So, what are you doing after this?”

Me: “Going home.”

Drunk Customer: “Not going to tailgate some?”

Me: “No, especially since I’m not old enough.”

Drunk Customer: “Okay. Wait, how old is not old enough?”

(At this point, I drop the polite customer service voice I’d been using and speak as if to a small child.)

Me: “I’m. Not. Legal.”

Drunk Customer: “Oh. OH! Sorry, I’m a little drunk.”

(Yeah, I noticed that.)

(My friend invites me to a sports day held by his work, mainly because I have a car so I can drive him up. As it is the middle of summer, I pack a small cooler with some drinks for us, and I throw in a package of “freezie pops,” as well. We meet up with some other friends who also work there, and we are sharing the freezie pops between us when a woman walks up, followed by two kids.)

Woman: “Where did you get those?” *pointing at the freezie pops*

Me: “Oh, we actually brought them ourselves, since we figured it would be so hot. Do–”

Woman: *cutting me off* “We’ll take four.”

Me: *pausing, then plastering on a big smile* “Sorry, we only brought enough for us.”

(At that, the woman makes to lunge at the cooler, but I block her path with my body.)

Me: “Ex-cuse you!”

(She huffs, then stomps away as her kids begin whining about not getting freezie pops.)

Me: *opening up the cooler to reveal the dozen or so freezie pops we have left* “So, anyone want seconds?”

(Seriously, I’d been about to offer that woman some, but not with that kind of attitude. It’d be one thing if she asked nicely, but with just that demand, there was no way I was giving her squat.)