(I’m trying to get a monitor to connect properly with a video camera. I’m down in the orchestra pit making sure the camera stays on, while another stagehand fiddles with the settings on the monitors. There are other people working around us, and it’s hard for people on stage to hear people in the pit at the best of times, never mind in the wings, so I decide to text her rather than shouting. Let’s say her name is Lindsey. I have a Lindsay in my phone, so I think that must be her.)

My Text: “The camera is on.”

(I don’t get a reply for several minutes. When I look at my contacts again, I realize I have texted Lindsay rather than Lindsey. Then I realize how horrifying it would be to get that text out of context from someone you don’t text with regularly!)

Me: “I’m so sorry. I know how creepy that sounds. I texted the wrong person!”

Lindsay: “That’s okay!”

(Couldn’t. Stop. Laughing. And no, everyone else in the building didn’t clap, because they were all too busy to ask/care what I was laughing about.)

(I’m taking the payment for a reservation a customer just made.)

Me: “Okay, I just need to get that three-digit code on the back of your credit card.”

Customer: “Where is that?”

Me: “There should be two sets of numbers after your signature. I need the second set of digits.”

Customer: “I didn’t sign my card. Where would it be, then?”

(I am working the concession stand at a popular stage theatre in Niagara. There is a regular who has a five-year-old daughter, and one day, during an intermission, the daughter is in my line up, while her father is sitting at a table waiting for her. The line isn’t that busy, and the girl is patient. Finally, when her turn comes, this happens.)

Five-Year-Old: “Hello, miss. May I please have—”

(Suddenly, an older man shoves her aside.)

Man: “Out of the way, kid! I would like…”

Five-Year-Old: *tapping his shoulder* “Excuse me, sir? I was about to order. Can you wait?”

Man: “May I please have…”

Five-Year-Old: “Sir. It hurt me when you did that. Please don’t butt.”

Man: “As I was saying…”

Five-Year-Old: *close to tears* “Please, I won’t take long.”

Man: “Whatever, let me have a—”

(Suddenly, the girl taps him on the shoulder, glaring.)

Man: “What?”

Five-Year-Old: “Get your a** to the back of the line, buster!”

(Everyone’s jaw dropped, and the man is horrified. He sheepishly leaves as the people who heard her laugh.)

Five-Year-Old: *smiling sweetly and placing $10 on the counter* “May I please have a cream soda?”

(I gave her that, plus a free chocolate bar. I later found out that man had been doing that to her for a while, and she finally got fed up.)

(I am a giant nerd for the Broadway musical “Hamilton” and have spent some time researching lyrics, so I have a lot of knowledge about founding fathers. To my joy, we are covering the founding fathers in my history class, and my teacher also loves “Hamilton.” We are the only two in the class who have listened to it. The class knows I’m a big fan.)

Teacher: “As a treat, I’m going to have you watch a scene from the musical Hamilton, about Yorktown.”

I gasp overdramatically and start slapping my friend’s arm.

Teacher: “[My Name] has heard of this play, if you couldn’t tell.”

(We are covering the differences between Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson.)

Teacher: “Okay, in a group of four, I want you to mark down the facts and opinion of both founding fathers.”

(My friend runs out of her chair and grabs my arm.)

Friend: “She’s joining our group!”

Classmates Around Me: “Aww.”

Teacher: “This photo is of the duel that killed Alexander Hamilton. We haven’t talked about him yet, but the man who shot him was Aaron Burr.”

Me: “Mostly ‘cause he was really salty about Hamilton.”

Teacher: “Yeah, jeez, he was a firecracker. This photo is of Alexander Hamilton’s wife Elizabeth, who, even after finding out her husband was having an affair, did not divorce him.”

Classmate: “Really? If I was her, I would have filed for divorce immediately.”

Me: “Yeah, but in the male-dominated society back then…”

I proceed to rant about how much s*** Elizabeth went through.

Teacher: “And now you know more about Hamilton’s wife than you do the actual founding father, but that’s okay because he was a jerk.”

Me: “Yeah, he was! Who wants to hear about how he wrote a 98-page pamphlet slut-shaming himself?”

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(My friend is from New Jersey, and together we’re watching a musical set during the American Revolution.)

Character #1: “Where was the fight?”

Character #2: “New Jersey.”

Both Characters: “Everything’s legal in Jersey!”

Me: *looks at friend*

Friend: “NOTHING is legal in New Jersey.”