(I’m outside at my college on the morning of September 12, 2001, before class. We are in the United States.)
Girl: *to a friend* “Look, like, I get, like, it’s a big deal, or whatever, but I don’t know why even MTV has to talk about it. Why do I have to miss TRL because of some stupid planes?”
(I am the opening cashier in the store one morning. It has been kind of quiet and I am in a good mood. A customer approaches my register with three cans of paint and visible frustration. We go through the usual schtick and he says:)
Customer: “I just want you to know I’m going to [Paint Store] after this.”
Me: “Oh? Was there something you couldn’t find?”
Customer: “I wanted ten cans of this paint and you only had nine. So, I wanted to tell you that you’ve missed out and I’m taking my business elsewhere.”
(A head cashier has been listening. She gives him an apology as I finish the transaction. The customer leaves. Once he’s gone:)
Me: “I came in here looking for ten cans of paint and you had nine. So, I’ll take three, and then buy the other seven at a more expensive place. It doesn’t make sense, but I’m frustrated and therefore someone has to suffer. Joke’s on me, though, cause it’ll be me who suffers.”
(The head cashier and I shared a quick laugh. I get being upset that you couldn’t get everything you wanted, but why screw yourself over like that?)
(I have injured my right wrist. It’s wrapped, and my arm is in a sling to avoid any further strain. Due to previous sports injuries, I have already taught myself to write with my left hand, but it’s much slower than with my right. Today, we not only have a written test in my ASL class, but a substitute administering it. I am struggling to complete the test in time.)
Classmate: *finishes and goes to turn in his test, whispers* “Mrs. [Substitute Teacher]?”
Substitute Teacher: “Yes?”
Classmate: “[My Name]—” *points at me* “—hurt her arm and can’t write well. Could we step out in the hall, so I can help her write?”
Substitute Teacher: “Absolutely not! You’re just going to cheat.”
Classmate: “Even if I wanted to, she doesn’t need my help.” *taps the gradebook on the teacher’s desk* “Check for yourself. She has the highest grade in the class.”
Substitute Teacher: *looks up to see the whole class nodding, while I blush a million shades of red* “Go sit down.”
(A few minutes pass, during which time she actually does open the gradebook. She calls us both up.)
Substitute Teacher: “Fine. You two can go out in the hall. But I WILL be checking on you, and I will leave a note for your teacher. She could fail you if she thinks this is cheating.”
Me: *knowing the teacher and her views, I’m not worried* “Thank you.”
Classmate: *takes my test paper and leads the way outside* “Question 12?”
Me: “Thanks, [Classmate]. I really appreciate this.”
Classmate: “No problem. When I was on crutches, you were always the first to help. And besides, now I don’t have to wait to find out what I got wrong. Now, number 12?”
(Thanks to him, I finished the test in plenty of time, and aced it. He had only missed one, about the history of Gallaudet University, but the teacher gave him extra credit for helping me, so it evened out.)
(A young male customer in baggy clothes shuffles into the drugstore where I work and walks up to me.)
Customer: “Uh, yeah, uh… do you guys have any condiments?”
(I lead him to the condiment aisle and gesture to the ketchup and mustard.)
Customer: “Uh, no, uh… that’s not what I wanted… you got any, you know, rubber gloves?”
(By this point, I have a fairly good idea of what he’s looking for, but I diligently lead him to the cleaning supply aisle and point out the rubber gloves with a smile.)
Customer: “Uh, nah, I’m looking for… you know…”
Me: “Sir, do you mean CONDOMS?”
Customer: “YEAH!”
(I hope he used them properly; he wasn’t ready to reproduce.)
Me: “That will be $2.50, sir.”
Customer: “This should cover it.”
Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t pay with a copies of a dollar bill. They’re not even in color.”
