I play a certain zombie-killing video game that’s a decade old but still crazy popular. While playing online with a bunch of others that I assume are in their early twenties, I mention that the map the characters are running through is cool and reminds me of the Circles of Hell in Dante’s Inferno.
The response?
“Never heard of that game.”
I had no comeback.
My mom once told me that when she and my dad had just married and gotten their first telephone, she’d get calls from an elderly lady who wanted to speak to Dolores. She was very friendly, and even when my mom repeatedly told her there was no Dolores, she still insisted my mom was Dolores.
My mom got used to it after a while. At least once or twice a week this old lady would call to talk to Dolores. Every call started with, “Hello, Dolores! How are you?” And she ignored every attempt to explain to her that she had the wrong number. So, eventually, my mom didn’t even try anymore. She even grew quite fond of the lady and indulged her.
She never found out who that lady really was, as she only stated her first name, and she never told anything that’d helped to pinpoint where she called from. She talked about her daily routines, her cat, the garden, and other random stuff. Often she’d reminisce about past experiences she had shared with Dolores. She also sounded very old and a little shaky and could only talk for about ten or fifteen minutes tops before she got too tired to go on.
She also only called on Tuesdays and/or Thursdays, always at the same time — around eight pm. After a while, my mom had grown so fond of her that she insisted on being home at that time just so she wouldn’t miss a call.
The whole thing lasted for about a year, and then the calls eventually stopped. My mom thinks the old woman was lonely, and from the things she told my mom, it seemed that Dolores was a childhood friend of hers. We think she either went to a retirement home or died and that’s why the calls stopped.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Dolores had also died long before the old woman started to call. Maybe that woman had dementia and really believed my mom was Dolores, or maybe she knew that there was no Dolores but since my mom was so friendly she’d decided to call anyway just to have someone to talk to.
My mom felt really sad when no more calls came. She still thinks of that lady now and then and wonders who she was and what happened to her. As for me, I’m really happy that I have a mom who’s so compassionate and friendly, even to strangers. I try to be like her.
I was on a business trip to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and one morning I was down in the hotel restaurant having breakfast. I was sitting at a table by myself when this group of four or five little old ladies came in and sat down nearby.
One of them came over to me and started asking me something, but she was speaking Chinese, which I don’t understand. She was gesturing at one of the chairs, so at first, I assumed she was asking if she could take it over to her table, and I tried to gesture back and say, “Please go ahead.”
But then she brought out her cell phone and started miming taking a photo, and I realized she must want me to take a picture of her and her friends!
I nodded yes and was about to get up and go over to their table when, suddenly, the lady handed her phone to her friend, pulled out a chair to sit down next to me, and started posing for the camera! And she and all her friends proceeded to take turns getting a photo with me.
I was incredibly confused but just smiled and went along with it. Then they thanked me and went back to their table.
I’ve never been told I look particularly like any celebrity, and I’m definitely not the kind of exotic “foreign”-looking white person that might get a lot of attention in Asia — I was certainly not the only non-Asian person in that hotel! — but I can only assume they must have mistaken me for… someone.
I definitely got a kick out of the thought that, for whatever reason, meeting me made these little old ladies’ day!
A few coworkers and I are grabbing a coffee from the on-site coffee shop. I’m first in line.
Me: “Can I get a flat white. [Coworker #1], what do you want?”
Coworker #1: “Oh, thanks, a latte.”
I motion to [Coworker #2].
Coworker #2: “Black coffee, thanks!”
Some Random Guy: “I’ll have a cappuccino.”
We all look at him; I shake my head at the cashier.
Cashier: “Okay, sir, I will get yours in a second.”
I pay for ours and move around to the collection point. The random guy goes to follow.
Cashier: “Err… excuse me, sir, you need to pay for your coffee.”
Some Random Guy: “Oh, he’s paid.” *Gestures to me*
Cashier: “He didn’t. You need to pay for your coffee.”
The guy puts his hands on his hips.
Some Random Guy: “Well, I don’t want it, then.”
Cashier: “Sure.* *To the other worker* “Cancel the cappuccino.”
He stood there, hands on his hips, staring at me and then the cashier, furious. He was still there when we collected our coffees and left.
We all laughed about it and it became the running joke to “not forget the cappuccino” when we go out.
Related:
Cappuccino-No-No, Part 3
Cappuccino-No-No, Part 2
Cappuccino-No-No
When I was about five years old, my parents took my three siblings and me to the state fair. At some point, I slipped away from the group. My mom noticed almost immediately but couldn’t find me. Cue panicked yelling of my name, and my dad asking a vendor to get security immediately.
Earlier in the day, my mom had bought us Disney pennants with our names on them. A man heard the yelling, looked down, and spotted a hysterically crying child holding a pennant with the name being called.
He crouched down and asked me to lift my flag as high as I could. I did so, and he picked me up and lifted me over the crowd.
Man: “[My Name]’s mom! [My Name]’s dad!”
The crowd cleared the way to my parents, some of them joining the call. My parents spun around and saw me now half-giggling, half-crying, being held like Simba, and ran to me. My parents thanked the man profusely, and those pennants were packed anytime we went to an outdoor event.
Related:
Shopping Follows The Circle Of Life
