My husband and I jokingly say that we encounter people from the town we grew up in everywhere we go. We now live twenty kilometers from that town. For instance, we met my father on a stretch of road fifty meters long on the other side of the country when we both didn’t know we would be there. We also encountered my parents-in-law when we were out cycling one day on a road close to us, where my parents-in-law had never been before, and they had no idea we would be there.

When we go to an island for our holiday, the first person we meet is our former neighbour from [Town]. A few days later, we are out walking in the dunes, on a path where clearly not many people go. From a distance, I spot a brightly coloured stone. It’s been painted and it’s a Happy Stone (which can be taken away and left somewhere else). I go and grab it. It’s beautiful and I’m really happy with it. I turn it over and read, “Happy Stones [Town].”

I can’t help but laugh out loud about it.

Me: “[Husband], remember how we always say we find people from [Town] everywhere?”

Husband: “Yes?”

Me: “Look!”

He found it just as funny as I did.

I do tech service for a cable provider for TV, Internet, and phone. A customer calls in about his phone not working, but I can’t see any phone subscription in the account I got from his phone number.

Me: “I’m sorry, but are you sure you got a phone subscription with us? I only see TV and Internet on your account.”

Customer: “Of course I have a phone subscription with you. It’s always something with this line. Why do I even have it? The line doesn’t work more often than it does, and if it works, the line is bad.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I really can’t find anything about a phone line.”

Customer’s Wife: *In the background* “Honey, we’re with [Other Well-Known Phone Provider].”

Customer: “Oh, sorry.” *Hangs up*

At least he apologised for his mistake. If he hadn’t hung up, I’d have gladly hooked him up with our services.

In university, my minor is in Translation. At the start of the first seminar of one of the courses, the teacher has us fill out a questionnaire. Some of the questions are straightforward and their purpose is clear, like, “Why are you interested in translation?” or, “What are your source and target languages?” (These are, respectively, the language you’ll be translating from and the one you’ll be translating into — in my case, English and Dutch.)

Other questions are less straightforward, like, “What is your favorite word in your source language?” (For the record, it’s “defenestrate”.) And then there’s this question:

Question: “Which words from your source language do you think native speakers would find hard to spell?”

Um… what? How am I supposed to know what words native English speakers find hard to spell, not being a native speaker of English myself? I ponder this question a bit, and all I can come up with is “knowledge” because it is spelled differently from its pronunciation, but again, I don’t know! The questionnaire is asking for multiple words, though, so I continue thinking, but I’m stuck.

All that’s going through my mind is the commercial I saw right before I went to class, for “Mary Poppins,” the musical. I start tapping along to “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” trying to think of difficult English words. And then it hits me. THAT is a word that would be difficult to spell! Feeling a little mischievous, thoroughly done with this weird question, and also wondering what my teacher will make of it, I write Mary Poppins’ magical word down and hand in my questionnaire.

At the next seminar, the teacher returns our questionnaires with feedback. Next to my musically inspired answer is a question mark.

Teacher: “If you have any questions about my feedback, please ask them now.”

Me: “I have one, ma’am. What does this question mark next to question fourteen mean?”

Teacher: “Oh, yes, that. You know, you weren’t supposed to make up words for that question, [My Name].”

I’m puzzled that the teacher, who has kids, is apparently unfamiliar with this movie.

Me: “I didn’t? It’s from Mary Poppins.”

Before the teacher can respond, one of my classmates groans.

Classmate #1: “Did you seriously write down ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’?”

Me: “Yep!”

Now the teacher is the puzzled one.

Teacher: “This is really a word?”

Classmate #2: “It’s a song, ma’am.” *Starts singing* “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious…”

I and several other classmates fall in and sing the chorus and others start laughing and clapping along, until most of the class ends up singing,

Class: “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

We’re all laughing, while the teacher is looking at us like we’ve all turned purple.

Teacher: *Bewildered* “Okay, I guess it’s a word. You can ignore that question mark, [My Name].”

I deal with contracts and I get a cancellation request for a contract. It’s from a granddaughter who wants to end the lease of her grandmother’s home. I check if all fields are filled in.

Immediately, I notice that the handwriting and signature are bold and confident. It makes me think a teenage girl wrote this, instead of a fragile lady in her eighties. Still, the lady could have wonderful handwriting, but just in case, I check the contract she signed over twenty years ago.

The style doesn’t match one bit and the name she used then was her married name and now it’s her maiden’s name. So, I call the number on the request.

Me: “Hello, I am calling regarding the cancellation for [lease]. When processing it, I noticed the signature does not match the one on the contract. Could you please explain that?”

Granddaughter: “I don’t know. My grandmother signed it.”

Me: “I see. Well, we can’t process it like this, because the signature does not match the contract in the slightest bit.”

Granddaughter: “She is over eighty years old! Her handwriting must have changed in the past decades.”

Me: “I took that into account, but it’s too different from the contract.” 

Granddaughter: “I don’t understand why you are being difficult. My grandmother is illiterate, so I’m helping her. I filled it in. She signed it herself.”

Me: “Could you please explain to me why she signed with a different name? And why she could sign her contract? Not only that, I see a very specific ‘loop’ used in the Y in the name. It’s used throughout the entire form. You just said you filled in the form, but she signed the form. Could you explain why I see similarities between your handwriting and her signature?”

There is silence.

Me: “Miss, if you signed for your grandmother because you wanted to help her, please say so. I do believe she wants to end the lease and that you want to help. If she no longer can sign, for whatever reason, please explain that to us and give us proof. But I cannot process this form because this is not signed by your grandmother herself.”

Granddaughter: “But… I…”

Me: “You know what? I’ll keep this cancellation on hold. That gives you time to get a signature from your grandmother.”

Granddaughter: “Yes… Thank you.”

I’m not worried about any fraud, because when a lease is cancelled, we visit the person twice, and at least one of the two times the person who signed the contract needs to be present (unless we have proof that person cannot be present). And as long as this request of cancellation is on hold, nothing will change for her grandmother. 

Please do not sign for your family members if you want to help them. It just gets flagged as an attempt of fraud.

I’m visiting my parents for a few days. It’s just after eight in the evening. My dad and I are watching the news and my step-mum is half watching, half doing a crossword puzzle. The time is important, because around eight in the evening is when my dad wants coffee, and when I’m visiting, he has a habit of expecting me to make it. It was just the two of us for a long time when I was a teenager, and he made a private game of finding more creative versions of saying, “[My Name], go make me a coffee!”. Examples of what he came up with: saying, “Yes, I’d love a coffee. Thanks for the offer, [My Name]!”; asking, “Where’s my coffee?”; or texting me, “Coffee!!” when I was in my room.

Today, he surpasses himself. It starts with Mum asking for help with her puzzle.

Mum: “One of the Gorgons, six letters?”

Me: “Medusa.”

Mum: “Yes, that would fit.”

Dad: *Pointing at me* “Drink of the gods, usually served at eight.”

I think, “What is he talking… Oh!”

Me: “You want coffee?”

Dad: “You got it!”

Mum bursts out laughing and I throw up my hands.

Me: “That’s it! That is definitely the most original version of, ‘[My Name], go make me a coffee,’ you can come up with. You’re not going to top this! Peak Dad humor achieved!”

Knowing him, he’ll take it as a challenge.