(I am working as a waitress at a restaurant when a woman comes in. My boss pulls me to the side and tells me that if I help the woman, to write down everything that she wants as she is a notoriously picky eater. I take the woman’s drink order and begin clearing off the table next to her while I wait for her to decide what she’d like to eat. As I am cleaning, she looks over at me.)

Customer: “Is your last name Hitchcock?”

Me: *confused* “No, ma’am, my last name is [My Last Name].”

(The customer then proceeds to tell me in detail how I look exactly like Alfred Hitchcock’s daughter, from the shape of my face to the way I smile. I nod and play along, but am trying so hard not to laugh that it hurts. Every time I go near her table, the woman marvels that I look just like Alfred Hitchcock’s daughter. When she’s getting ready to leave, the customer comes up to me.)

Customer: “You know, you should really submit your picture to [some organization that apparently takes pictures of people who look like celebrities]. Just make sure that the picture shows from here to here–” *she gestures from the top of my head to about my navel* “–and shows the contours of your arms. Oh, and make sure to take one with your glasses and without your glasses.”

(I assured her that I would, though I had absolutely no intention of doing so. Satisfied, the woman finally left. Later, I looked up a picture of Pat Hitchcock. I look absolutely nothing like her.)

One of my best friends always used to do this thing where we would say something, and she would then say, “Your mom’s [whatever we said].” For instance, when I was mentioning how hungry I was before lunch, she’d say, “Your mom’s hungry.” More often than not, it happened without her really processing what she’d heard and she’d blurt out her response. This was one of those moments.

In mid-November, my mother passed away. (You can probably already tell where this is going.) This incident took place in April. I was playing an action game on my phone before school in the cafeteria where we usually sat with a few of my other friends when she walked to our table. Just to mess with me, as I was tapping the screen to send my team to attack, she said, “You missed one!” My response, because it was the truth, was that it was because that character was dead. Her immediate reply was, “Your mom’s dead.”

The moment she finished her sentence, she realized what she’d said and the horror crossed over her face. She immediately started to apologize and hug me. Knowing that it was never her intention to hurt me and this was an automatic thing, I laughed it off and told her we were good. And we still are good to this day. She’s basically a sister I never got and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

(I work at a semi-fast food restaurant that has a drive-thru. Someone has just come to the speaker box.)

Me: “Hi! Go ahead and order when you’re ready!”

(Silence for about three minutes as I finish handing out orders.)

Me: “Did you have any questions?”

(Silence. The car then pulls forward to my window.)

Customer: “Can I get a 34 with a Pepsi?”

(Thinking something might be wrong with our speaker.)

Me: “Sure! May I ask why you didn’t order at the speaker box? Could you not hear me?”

Customer: “Oh! I order back there?! I didn’t know that! I had my window up the whole time so, no, I didn’t hear you! I’m new to this.”

Me: “Oh… okay… Well, when you go through a drive-thru it’s best to roll your window down at the menu as that’s where you normally order.”

(I still wonder what she meant by saying she’s “new to this.”)

(It’s a cold, snowy day, and I am sitting around my house wearing my warm, comfy pajama pants. I’m getting ready for my evening shift at the local Walmart.)

Me: “I don’t want to change out of my pajama pants. They’re so comfortable.”

Mom: “Well, you’re going to a Walmart, so you’ll fit right in.”

(I overhear this from some classmates of mine in the college of education in the late 90s.)

Woman #1: “Where are you doing your student teaching?”

Woman #2: “I’m not doing student teaching. I’m majoring in ‘educational studies.’”

Woman #1: “What’s that?”

Woman #2: “It’s like the teachers’ program, but you don’t do student teaching, so you don’t get a teaching certificate. My parents made me go to college, and this way I’ll get out a semester early.”

(In other words, her parents were paying tens of thousands of dollars for her to go to school, but in order to graduate a few months early, she was making her degree completely useless.)