(I’m one of the few female patrons of my local comic shop, and while the staff is awesome, the other patrons can be less so. I’ve just paid for my comics when the guy ahead of me pipes up.)

Customer: “Arrow? That’s not a real comic book. You need someone to tell you about real comics.”

Me: “Who’s Zatanna?”

Customer: “Who?”

Me: “Zatanna Zatara. Who is she?”

Customer: “I don’t know—”

Me: “She’s a magician, an extremely powerful logomancer, arguably the most powerful person in the DCU, and my favorite comic character. Sadly, she’s only ever appeared in an episode of Batman TAS and a couple of minor spots in Justice League, so only serious comic geeks know about her. And you didn’t buy anything but Marvel tie-ins.”

(My parents are an interesting pair. My dad loves mythology and folklore, while my mom has a soft spot for anything that involves cars. My little sister and I are helping Dad with the shopping.)

Dad: “Let’s see… Eggs, milk, your grandmother’s favorite cookies… Did I forget anything, Calypso?”

Me: “No, I don’t think so. Everything on the list is crossed out.”

Customer: *behind us* “What kind of name is that? Are you some sort of f****** hippie? Couldn’t you give her a normal name?”

Dad: “With all due respect, please mind your own business. Mercedes, sweetheart, can you help me put our things on the belt?”

Sister: “Okay!”

Customer: “Are you one of those annoying posh types? Naming your kids after a car.”

Dad: “It was a name long before it was a car. My mother-in-law loves The Count Of Monte Cristo.”

(The customer kept going like that at the smallest of things. We see him sometimes when we go shopping, but he just gives us the evil eye and doesn’t say a word.)

(I’m standing in the queue at a popular supermarket chain. It’s busy, and I’ve got my four-year-old daughter with me in her pushchair. She’s clutching a pack of kids drinks I’m about to buy her, and she asks me if she can have one, to which I reply, “Wait until we’ve paid for them,” which she accepts and goes back to sitting there quietly. Her pushchair is a special-needs one, so it takes up more room than the average pushchair, and as we are backing up against one of the shelves and there are a fair few people behind me, I leave a small gap in front of me so people can get through. Then, a woman comes and stands in the gap in front of me, and the following exchange happens:)

Me: “Excuse me, the queue is back here.”

Customer: *ignores me*

Me: “Hey, I’m talking to you, woman in the green t-shirt who is pretending she can’t hear me.”

Customer: *turning round* “Oh, I’ve only got one thing and I’ve got to get back to work. Let me go in front of you.” *I only have two things myself*

Me: “Here’s the thing. I’ve just been telling my daughter that she needs to be patient until she can have her drink because we haven’t paid for them yet, and she’s been sitting here quietly waiting. If I let you go in front of me, what kind of message does that send her?”

Customer: “Well, I’m not moving. What are you going to do about it?”

Me: *loudly* “Well, there’s nothing I can do, if you are okay with having worse manners than a four-year-old.”

(At this point everyone in the queue was staring at her and giving her dirty looks. She looked embarrassed and slumped off to the back of the queue, muttering to herself.)

My roommate and I are exploring a Florida theme park with lots of country-themed pavilions. In the Norway pavilion, we discover a little building holding an exhibit on “Gods of the Vikings.” Being big mythology nerds, we happily enter and are checking out the artifacts and stories of Odin, Freya, Thor, and Loki when another group comes in behind us.

The next thing we hear is an incredibly bubbly and excited voice saying, “Oh, wow! So Marvel didn’t just make these guys up!”

We exchange a single horrified look and nope right on out of there.

(My local gym has swimming lessons for kids, as well as an exercise area for adults. I’ve dropped off my daughter at her class and have gone to work out on the treadmill for a while. About ten minutes later…)

Gym Employee: “Excuse me; you need to come with me.”

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Gym Employee: “Your daughter is very ill. You shouldn’t have brought her here, and you need to come get her, right now!“

Me: “Oh, boy. Okay, I’m coming.”

(I hop off treadmill, thinking this is odd, as she seemed fine when I left her. The employee and I arrive at the pool… where I see my daughter happily enjoying her lesson, looking as healthy as can be.)

Me: “Um… She doesn’t look ill to me.”

Gym Employee: “She’s very ill, and you need to take her home!” *grabs the hand of a little girl that I’ve never seen before and drags her up to me*

Me: “Um… That’s not my kid.”

Supervisor: “[Employee], I told you that the mother’s name was [Name]. Did you bother to ask this lady what her name is?”

Gym Employee: “Well, no, but you said that she was in the gym.”

Supervisor: “And how many women were in the gym?”

Gym Employee: “…”

Supervisor: “Go back and find the right one. This time, ask her what her name is!”