When I am fourteen and my sister is ten, our family has a very busy day scheduled. We start at my sister’s soccer tournament, then we go to my orchestra competition, and we leave from there to go to our family reunion, hosted at my grandfather’s house. My grandfather is a former Chief Of Police.

As we are en route to the reunion, everyone is starting to get cranky, including our parents. Mom and Dad start arguing over who was supposed to bring the food for the potluck, as it has been forgotten. Dad, irritated, begins to speed by quite a bit.

When we get pulled over, he is going seventy-five mph in an active construction zone that is also a school zone. That school must be hosting a sporting event, as the light is on. The inside of the car feels like it’s humming with tension as we await the officer with the window down.

Officer: “Sir, do you know how fast you were going?”

Dad: “I’m afraid I wasn’t looking.”

At this point, Mom starts to bend over from the passenger’s seat to better see the officer.

Officer: “Well, I clocked you going a bit north of seventy, and that’s—”

Mom: “Wait, is that [First Name]? [First Name] [Surname]?”

Officer: “Um, yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

Mom: “It’s [Mom] [Maiden Name]! [Dad], girls, this is who I used to babysit! The kid who’d always tattle to my daddy if I tried to sneak out! Boy, Daddy always said you’d make a great cop. Guess you went and did it, huh? How’re [Family Members]?”

The officer goes to the other side of the car to talk to my mom. She was his babysitter every day after school and all day during breaks for six years when she was in high school and college, and his brother and my aunt dated seriously for quite some time. As they seem to be running out of small-town gossip to catch up on, my mom continues.

Mom: “Oh, and I can tell my momma and daddy you said hi if you want. Heck, I could stop off at your parents’ place across the street, since they’re still there! See if your mom won’t still make a batch of snickerdoodles, since my doofus husband here left the potato salad at home.”

Officer: “Oh, is this the big [Family Surname] reunion? Too bad I’m on the evening shift and can’t stop by. I better let y’all get going, though. Wouldn’t want to make old Chief [Grandfather] upset!”

He gets back in his patrol car and leaves. He never even took my dad’s license and registration from him.

After we have driven — at the speed limit — in very subdued but tense silence for about five minutes, Mom finally speaks in a low, somewhat strangled voice.

Mom: “If he’d ticketed you to the full extent, in [City]? You’d have your license suspended. And probably about five grand owed. Don’t do that again.”

It has been twenty years, and I have not seen my dad speed once since that evening.

My client is a residential and commercial painter with years of experience but no marketing history. In order to create a website for him, I give him a “homework” list of details to compile so that I can compose his bio, also include pictures of his previous works, areas of service and expertise, etc.

Two weeks go by and I email asking about his progress. Another week passes and he finally replies simply stating:

Client: “Here’s a link to my competitor. Just use what he has.”

This was a few years before the health crisis. My office has all the usual modern things such as Outlook and Zoom, and most importantly, the ability to schedule meetings by viewing others’ availability.

We were performing our year-end process. My coworker, who has been with the company for fifteen years, was in charge of one particular section — the same section she has had for all those fifteen years.

A few weeks after year-end, I was checking off the final items, and I asked her if she had held a recap meeting with the people in her section — about thirty people. You know, what went well, what could be improved, etc. We do this every year to try to make next year better.

Me: “Have you held a recap session yet?”

Coworker: “Welllllll, I tried to!”

Me: “What do you mean, you tried?”

Coworker: “Wellllll, I sent an email to everyone asking them to send me some dates and times they were available for this meeting, but no one responded!”

Me: “Really. You sent an email to thirty people asking them to send you dates and times they were available. I wouldn’t have responded, either. What were you hoping for? They’d all send the same date and time?”

Coworker: “WELLLL…”

Me: “Why didn’t you just use Outlook?”

Coworker: “I tried, but I couldn’t find a good time.”

Me: “Okayyyy, why don’t you break the section into groups and have more than one meeting?”

The whole thing was rather astounding. I have no idea what she’s been doing for the past fifteen years.

I am currently walking with a knee brace and an ankle brace. Sometimes I use a cane when the pain gets too bad. This happens while I am waiting for a (notoriously unreliable) elevator to get to one of my classes on the third floor. A chipper lady from administration walks up to me.

Lady: “You know, here at [College], we’re promoting health this month!”

Me: *Not really paying attention* “That’s great.”

Lady: “You know, taking the stairs would be a lot healthier for you! You could lose some weight!”

I stare pointedly at my immobilized leg and cane.

Me: “Ma’am?”

She walked away. I don’t think she even noticed. Lady, if I could take the stairs, I would!

I work as a receptionist in a hair salon. As part of my job, I have to book appointments. We have to get detailed information about what the client wants to get done to make sure we book for the appropriate amount of time. This scenario plays out several times a week as I am booking appointments over the phone.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Salon]. How can I help you?”

Client: “I’d like to book an appointment for color.”

Me: “Okay, and color-wise, what are you specifically looking to get done?”

Client: “I want to get my hair colored.”

Me: “Right, but what specific type of color are you wanting?”

Client: “Color! I want my hair colored!“

Me: “Okay, so highlights, balayage, all over color…?”

Client: “Ugh, highlights.”

I will never understand how people can’t figure out that we need specifics, especially after I ask specifically what they want. It never fails.