My sister kept threatening to show a video to me if I kept leaving the toilet seat up. She claimed it would make sure I always keep it down. I had ignored her up until this point.

Finally, she cornered me. I rolled my eyes as she got out The Video.

I had never been more horrified. The video was of a science experiment where they put special water in the toilet that would glow under a blacklight. They flushed the toilet, in a huge bathroom, with the seat up. When they turned on the blacklight, it’s like the room was covered in stars. The toilet water got EVERYWHERE.

I didn’t want to watch more, but I couldn’t look away. They flushed with the seat and lid down. The spatter was contained to the floor surrounding the toilet.

And that is how I became afraid of toilets. I pull the release and run as fast as I can. You were right, sister. I’ll never leave it up again.

(This happens when I am in fifth grade. At my school, we keep our textbooks in cubbies in the back of the classroom unless we are taking them home to do homework. We also rotate classes with two other classes. My teacher teaches math, and two other teachers teach my class history and science, and we move classrooms. I was out sick one day, and when I come in the next day and go to get my book, my math textbook is no longer in my cubby.)

Me: “[Teacher], my math book isn’t here.”

Teacher: “Are you sure that you didn’t leave it at home?”

Me: “I’m sure.”

Teacher: “Well… we have a spare. Use that one for now, and look around the classroom. When you go home, try to find your math book and bring it in. Otherwise, you’ll have to pay for it before you can go to sixth grade.”

(I don’t find my math book at home or in any of the cubbies at school, and all the other students in all three rotation classes deny seeing it. I’m worried, because the math books had been bought that year and would therefore be pricey to pay for. Finally, on the second-to-last-day of school, my mom relents and writes a check for the book. During class, I turn in the rest of my textbooks.)

Teacher: “[My Name], did you ever find your math book?”

Me: “No. I have the check; I’ll give it to you at the end of class.”

(A student from the science rotation class comes in holding a math book in their hands.)

Student: “Hi, [Teacher]… I had two math books. One at home; one in my cubby. I just used them both all year, but this one has [Teacher] and [My Name] written inside the cover.”

Teacher: “[Student], are you telling me that I blamed [My Name] all year for losing her math book when really you ‘borrowed’ it, pretended you didn’t, and never gave it back because you didn’t want to carry your book between school and your house?”

Student: “Yes… I’m sorry.”

Teacher: “Sorry is not enough. Sit down here. Here’s a piece of paper and a pencil. You’re going to write [My Name] an apology letter.”

(He did sit down next to me and write me the apology, though I felt very embarrassed by this. On the other hand, it was very satisfying to rip the check up and tell my parents the book had been found and we didn’t have to pay!)

(I have been living in Texas for about five years, whereas my coworker has lived here most of her life, only having moved away once for about ten years, then moving back. This is a conversation we had when she was trying to get information on a new client.)

Coworker: “Where is Texas Tech?”

Me: “Texas.”

Coworker: *while laughing* “I know that. Smart-a**.”

Me: “I’ll Google it for you.” *I pull it up* “It’s in Lubbock.”

Coworker: “That’s really far north. Isn’t it?”

Me: “I have no idea.”

Coworker: “How long have you lived in Texas?”

Me: “How long have you lived in Texas?”

(A customer has just purchased some material.)

Customer: “Okay, I will pick it up Friday.”

Me: “Sounds great.”

Customer: “You close at five?”

Me: “Yes, we close at five on Friday.”

Customer: “And if I come at six?”

Me: “…no one will be here?”

(Cue crestfallen face from customer.)

Customer: “Oh.”

(My friend and I are at a popular pet store chain picking up food for my snake. While waiting in line, he is trying to teach me a few words in his tribe’s language (Native Creek). He is very clearly not white, dark eyes, long, straight dark hair, copper skin tone, etc. Another customer behind us scoffs and we both look at him but my friend keeps speaking Creek.)

Customer: “You know, he should really learn to speak American if he’s going to be here.”

Friend: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “So you do speak English! Why are you speaking that gibberish, then?”

Me: “He is teaching me some words; he can speak whatever he wants. This is America, right?”

Customer: “Yes, it is! And as an American, he should just speak English!”

(My friend is looking very uncomfortable, as he is pretty shy and sensitive about racism.)

Me: “Sir, he is more American than you could ever wish to be.”

Customer: “How dare you! Look at him! I am the most blue-blooded American you can find! Born and bred!”

Me: *laughs* “His ancestors were here thousands of years before yours or mine even knew America existed.”

(He sputtered and huffed but shut up until we checked out.)