(I’m chatting with someone at a sports club, who also is one of my classmates at school. With us is a younger girl. We’re discussing the merits of turning sixteen.)

Me: “Well, I’ll be able to get married with my parent’s consent.”

Younger Girl: “Why? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Me: “No, but—”

Classmate: “Yeah, she’s still in her ‘hates boys’ phase.”

Me: “Not really; it’s more of a permanent phase—”

Classmate: “She’s been in it since, like, year seven!”

Me: *looking her in the eye* “Actually, it’s more of a condition—”

Classmate: *goes on about how funny it is that I ‘hate’ boys*

Me: “…You really don’t get what I’m telling you, do you?”

(I overhear two customers, and mistake them as part of the same conversation.)

Customer #1: “What’s intersex?”

Customer #2: “It’s when you take money out of an ATM!”

(I am 11 years old and whilst my mother plays netball, I score games at the sports centre for a few dollars a game. I sit on a row of chairs on the sideline, and often players or their family members sit beside me. The 50+ year-old mother of one player often sits right next to me to make sure I’m scoring correctly as her daughter plays. She is not particularly nice, and to top it off has dreadful halitosis. I complain to my mother about this.)

Me: “… and her breath is terrible.”

Mum: “Well, honey, when a woman reaches a certain age, her insides start to rot. When this happens you can smell it on her breath.”

Me: “Oh, okay…”

(I didn’t realise until years later this wasn’t the case and was just my mother’s way of being funny.)

(We go to a temporary ice rink that is set up every year in a local city. I can’t skate but my sister and boyfriend can. We decide to go so they can skate and I can attempt to. In the beginning I let them skate around while I get my balance and try on my own, holding the handrail around the side. Making my way round I come across a young boy, about 5-6 years old, holding the handrail, crying and looking quite lost.)

Me: “Are you okay?”

Boy: “I fell down. I hurt my head. I feel sick.”

(I quickly realise he could have a concussion.)

Me: “Where’s your mummy?”

(The boy points to a group of women at the entrance of the rink. Chatting amongst themselves paying little to no attention to anything happening on the rink. I call my boyfriend over and get him to grab one of the safety guys on the rink to come get the kid and lead him off the ice. I continue on my way round and get close enough to the group of women to hear this.)

Boy: “Mum, my head really hurts.”

Mother: *clearly worried, taking his skates off* “I know, darling. We’re going to go see the doctor so he can make you feel all better.”

(After she leaves.)

Other Mother: “I don’t know why she was in such a rush. Didn’t even answer my question before she just ran off. He’d only gotten a little bump. Some ibuprofen and he’d be fine.”

Boyfriend: *who is now next to me* “Stupid b****. Hope someone hits her in the head with a massive block of ice and gives her a concussion so she can see what it feels like.”

(Lady, we felt sorry for your daughter we saw leave with you.)

(One of our club volunteers, a courteous man of age, has lately been awarded a ribbon for his efforts. We read about it in a local newspaper while we all sit around.)

Volunteer: “It’s really better if you hear them saying it.”

Me: “Uh, okay. Certainly.”

Volunteer: “Here…” *fumbles with his smartphone*

Phone: *WHACK!*

Me: “…Haha, what’s that on your phone?”

Volunteer: *doesn’t answer, fumbles more*

Phone: *WHACK!*

Me: “You’re sure your phone is all right, hey?”

Volunteer: “Yeah, yeah…”

(He then hands me the phone, and for two minutes, we see and hear the video of the speech. Directly after it, the phone plays a short video of a woman getting some private parts slapped in her face… going with this ‘whack!’ sound.)

Everyone: *awkward stare*

Someone: “Sooo… [My Name]… How was your holiday?”