(I am the customer in this story. I finally got my US permanent residency “green card” and was able to reunite with my husband after nearly a year of being separated. To celebrate, we go to a fancy restaurant in Denver the day after I arrive.)

Hostess: “Are we celebrating any special occasion? Birthday, anniversary?”

Me: *too excited* “IMMIGRATION!”

Hostess: *stunned pause* “Congratulations!”

(I don’t know if they ever heard that one before.)

For some reason, scammers and beggars see me as a soft touch.

I was standing inside my favorite gas station, chatting with the workers, when I saw a young couple outside having an intense conversation and repeatedly looking in at me. Then, the man nodded to the woman and walked inside. He had some money clenched in his hand.

I stepped back so he could deal with the cashier I’d been chatting with. He dropped the money on the counter and asked for that amount to be prepaid on his pump. He kept glancing at me as he made a point of counting out less than two dollars, asking how much that would buy, and lamenting that it wouldn’t be enough gas to get where he needed to go.

I only smiled at him.

His girlfriend rushed in exclaiming that she’d found thirteen cents in the car. Then, she started giving me sideways glances.

I just smiled.

Finally, they broke down and asked outright if I could help.

I smiled, explained that I don’t carry cash, and had to interrupt his suggestion that I use my credit card to fill their tank to say, “Maybe that twenty hanging out of your pocket could help you out.”

The couple rushed out, leaving their handful of change on the counter. The cashier and I had a good laugh.

(I work for a state-independent children’s welfare organisation, which relies on their support members to run an anonymous hotline for children to call when they’re in need of an adult to listen to them. We’re reliant on our members, so today I call around trying to make members increase their monthly support. Most people are very positive, as we make sure to thank them for their support, and praise them for the good work. In Denmark, we don’t say, “ma’am,” or, “sir,” to each other anymore unless we’re speaking to the Queen.)

Me: *talks about how far we’ve made it with the hotline, but that many children still call in our closing-time* “…so we want to be open 24 hours a day. Will you help support that?”

Member: “Why do you people call and call?! I am so sick and tired of it, and you’re losing customers because of it. Why do you continue?!”

Me: “Because we want to help children.”

Member: “Now you’re being very crude!”

Me: “I’m sorry you see it that way; I just presume you want to help children, too, since you’re a member.”

Member: “Well, then don’t be perfidious! I want you to pass it on that no one wants to be called! You’re losing members on this! JUST DO YOUR WORK!”

Me: “I will. Have a nice day.”

(Apparently, she wanted me to do my job and NOT do my job at the same time; also I was very rude because I wanted to help kids! I put her on a DO NOT CALL list.)

Customer: “Where are your bags?”

Me: “Middle shelf, next to the boxes.”

(The customer reaches for the top shelf of boxes.)

Me: “MIDDLE shelf, next to the boxes.”

(The customer moves their hand to the middle shelf of boxes.)

Me: “NEXT TO the boxes.”

(The customer moves their hand to the bottom shelf of boxes.)

Me: “MIDDLE shelf, NEXT TO the boxes.”

(The customer moves their hand back to the middle shelf of boxes, then hovers it the opposite direction of the bags.)

Me: “Other direction.”

(The customer turns and walks away from the boxes and bags entirely.)

Me: “Let me just grab one for you.”

(There are days when I have to go through this with multiple customers. And then there’s days where I’ll point at the bags on one shelf and the customer will successfully retrieve one from a different shelf.)

My boyfriend and I recently visited two different friends in the same city, both more his friends than mine. The two friends used to be engaged to each other, actually, but when they moved west a few years ago, they split and moved on with other people. While staying with [Friend #1], we make plans to visit [Friend #2]. This second friend holds a very serious, taxing job, working with law enforcement, and has been in a steady relationship for a while now, so while she’s known to be rather over-emotional at times, I assume she’s still a responsible adult and is doing well at the moment. We arrange to spend a day out with her.

Little did we know, [Friend #2] and her girlfriend has just recently broken up before our visit, due to her girlfriend cheating on her. When the day comes to hang out with [Friend #2], she is still an emotional wreck. And the fallout of this starts with her “forgetting” her car at work, meaning that it’s now [Friend #1], our host, who has to drive my boyfriend and me forty minutes across town to — let’s remember — her ex-girlfriend’s place, and drop us off. [Friend #2] then calls a Lyft for us back into town, where we wander a bit and find food.

The lighthearted romp we were expecting, catching up with a friend while on vacation and seeing an unfamiliar city, becomes instead hours of making sympathetic noises while [Friend #2] yo-yos back and forth between hyperactive cheerfulness and all but sobbing — even in a restaurant — over her recent troubles. She has been a good friend, so we are as supportive as we can be, genuinely, but the almost non-stop stream of [Friend #2]’s words plus the emotional whiplash becomes exhausting.

Eventually, though, it’s time to arrange transportation back, and we are at [Friend #2]’s mercy, when she assures us she has a buddy in the area who can meet us and give us a ride. He arrives, and we meet him over a brief drink, learning he’s actually a defense attorney. I say this as though it’s surprising because he doesn’t quite seem the type upon first impression, rather more lackadaisical and bohemian. He even tells a funny story about how he once acquired a Mexican restaurant’s old delivery van simply by commenting on it, which for some reason prompted the restaurant owners to drop the keys into his hand and say he could have it for $1500. And he bought it, because, he shrugs, why not?

I’m sure you can guess where this is going. Sadly for my boyfriend and I, we did not.

[Friend #2] and her defense attorney buddy then lead us to, yep, that very same van, which has the standard two seats in the cab, but nothing else. The back is a bare, grooved metal floor, last cleaned who knows when. The only thing in it is a pile of old shirts. Shaking his head and chuckling, the buddy says to us, “Not sure why there’s a pile of shirts in there, but, you know…” and trails off, shrugging. When [Friend #2] climbs in the passenger seat and cheerfully asks, “You guys okay back there?” we don’t really have a choice but to say sure, and just sit uncomfortably on cold metal in a rickety van while a stranger drives us through a strange city, bouncing us up and down hills, chatting nonstop with [Friend #2].

We do make it out it one piece, but it is a near thing, as the buddy almost slams into a stopped car in front of us at one point, and only avoids it by mounting the curb.

Our outing ends with us basically stranded in another part of town as it gets dark and starts to rain, relying on [Friend #1] once again to fetch us. All in all, it’s not the most relaxing day of our vacation!