(My brother is interning at a baseball stadium where his jobs mainly consist of doing promotional events. A mother with a young son approach him. This event occurred on a Saturday.)

Brother: “How may I help you?”

Mother: “You need to shoot off fireworks on Saturday!”

Brother: *trying to be helpful* “We usually only use the fireworks on Friday for the-”

Mother: “Well, YOU need to have fireworks on Saturday!”

Brother: “Next Friday we will be having the firework promotion again if you would like to attend.”

Mother: “My son wants fireworks! Get it done!” *storms off*

(I work security at a popular football stadium. My job is to check bags and make sure people don’t try to smuggle any weapons into the stadium. A fan is entering through my gate and I see a rather large pocket-knife clipped to his back pocket.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but you can’t bring that knife into the stadium.”

Fan: “Why not? I brought it in last weekend and no one seemed to care.”

Me: “Sir, I’m not going to let you into the stadium if you have a weapon with you. You can either give it to me and you will not get it back, or you can take it back to your car and keep it, but I cannot let you in. If you decide to walk into the stadium, I will have those nice state troopers behind me escort you out, but you cannot bring that in.”

Fan: “Why can’t I bring in a pocket knife?”

Me: “Well, sir, for two reasons. One: it’s for your safety and everyone else’s safety. Two: we have fifty highly-trained state troopers with high-caliber pistols that could potentially blow a hole clear through your chest. So, my question to you is, why do you need a pocket knife?”

Fan: *looking shocked about what I have just told him, he turns around* “I think I’ll just take it to my truck.”

Me: “Thank you for your cooperation, sir.”

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name]! How’s it going?”

Me: “Pretty good, but my watch broke. I’m really ticked!”

Coworker: *starts laughing*

Me: *confused… slow realization* “That… wasn’t on purpose.”

(My boyfriend got us tickets to a race. While he’s scouting out the seats, I see a stand serving spiked hot chocolate.)

Me: “Hi! One spiked hot chocolate, please!”

Server: “Coming right up!”

(She begins making the drink, and starts to make small talk.)

Server: “So, who’s your driver?”

Me: *taken aback* “Err, my boyfriend?”

(She looks at me in confusion, then laughs, realizing I thought she was asking who my designated driver was.)

Server: “No, no, sweetie. I mean for the race.”

Me: *blushing furiously* “Oh! I don’t follow NASCAR; I’m here with my boyfriend.”

Server: “That’s okay. It’s still fun to sit and talk and watch them drive. Enjoy your hot chocolate!”

Me: “Thanks!”

(For the record, my boyfriend’s driver won!)

(My dad and I are going to a sporting event where a bubble machine is present, and some of them float into the parking lot. This happens when we see a large one. Note: there is a pair of girls who I can only assume were sisters.)

Dad: “Look at that bubble”

Girl: *runs across and pops large bubble*

Dad: “Look at that ex-bubble.”

Me: *to girl, in high pitched voice* “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!?”

Girl: *failing to hold back laughter* “I couldn’t help it.”

Me: “What did that poor, innocent bubble ever do to you?”

Dad: “It was a large bubble, just asking to be popped.”