(I am answering the phone at the front desk of the hotel where I work.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you today?”

Caller: “I need to make a reservation.”

Me: “Great, I can definitely help you with that! What day will you be arriving?”

Caller: *scoffs* “Oookaay; guess I am a f****** idiot, then!

Me: *quite taken aback* “I am sorry, sir?”

Caller: “I said, ‘I guess I am a f****** idiot!’”

Me: *confused and not really sure how to respond* “Um… Sir, I’m sorry, but why do you think that?”

Caller: “You just called me a f****** idiot!”

Me: *shocked* “No, sir! I can assure you I said nothing remotely close to that statement!”

Caller: *sounding genuinely surprised* “Oh, you didn’t?”

Me: “No, sir, I did not! I just asked when you would be arriving! I apologize if that sounded like I said something else, but I can promise you I would never speak to a guest like that!”

Caller: *completely nonplussed and cheerful as if nothing happened* “Okay, then, I need a room with a king-sized bed for the 12th.”

(The rest of the phone call was normal, but I still have no idea why this guy thought would just nonchalantly insult customers!)

(One regular family we have coming into the store has a little boy who is a cutie and actually well-behaved, except for only saying one word: “No!” No matter what we say to him, we get back, “No!” with a big grin.)

Me: “Hi, [Boy]!”

Boy: “No!”

Me: “How are you doing?”

Boy: “No!”

Me: “Having fun with your mom?”

Boy: “No!”

(Until one day, he and his mom come in. I’m alone up front, as it’s a very quiet morning. I expect the usual with, “Hello, [Boy]!”)

Boy: *in a nice, shy voice* “Hello!”

(I turn toward the boy and his mom with a shocked look on my face and clasp my chest.)

Me: “He must have turned three!”

(I am in line at a grocery store when a two-year-old boy starts throwing a fit in the store. He’s laying on the ground, screaming and crying. His mother, who seems very young, rushes over and picks him up to try to calm him down. The cashier ringing me up shakes her head and clicks her tongue.)

Cashier: “This is why people shouldn’t have kids so young; there’s no way they could be good parents. The father probably left her, too. That’s why she’s alone. She should be ashamed.”

Me: “Actually, she is 28 years old and just picked her son up from daycare. Her son is so grumpy because he has a fever, and she’s only in here to buy medicine for him before taking him back home to sleep. Also, her husband was at work all day and just called out early to be home with his sick child and stressed wife.”

Cashier: “Oh, yeah? And how could you possibly know all that?”

Me: *holding up the medicine I’m purchasing* “Because that’s my cousin.”

(The cashier went wide-eyed, and avoided speaking to me for the rest of the transaction. I did file a complaint against her, but it didn’t lead to anything. She’s just very awkward whenever I come into the store, and avoids me at all costs.)

We’ve lived in our neighborhood for a few years now. It’s fairly large, so we’ve mostly only met the people living on our street, but it’s common to see lots of people walking or biking through the neighborhood on nice days.

Over the years, I’ve noticed an older couple who like to walk their little dog in the early evening. We always wave at each other, but I don’t know them very well. Gradually, it seems like they are walking slower and slower. Then, there are a few days when I only see the wife walking the dog. I — rightly, as it turns out — assume the husband is starting to have trouble keeping up with her.

A few weeks later, I notice the woman walking their dog. Next to her is her husband, happily riding a hoverboard! I don’t know what makes me happier; that they found a way to keep walking together, or that a seventy-something-year-old man taught himself to successfully hoverboard around the neighborhood!

(It’s my senior year, the day after an awards ceremony for students in the top 10% academically for their year. I was invited to the ceremony, but given a different award even though I am in the top 10% of students. It’s not something I particularly care about, but I am curious as to how I didn’t qualify, so during lunch I stop by the registrar.)

Me: “Hi, I have a quick question about the board of trustees awards yesterday.”

Registrar: “Yes, what about it?”

Me: “So, I am in the top ten for the class of 2015, but I didn’t receive the award. I don’t really care all that much that I didn’t get it, but I guess I just wanted to know why I didn’t qualify?”

Registrar: “The trustee award is only for students in the top 10% for the year, not overall.”

Me: “Yeah, I get that, but here’s the thing: I’ve only gotten the award once before, and I just qualified for the top 10% overall this year. So. I don’t understand how I could be graduating top ten, but not be in the top 10% for this specific year.”

(The registrar starts getting irritated.)

Registrar: “Look, they just give me a list of names. It’s too late to change anything. You didn’t get the award.”

Me: “I know, and like I said, I’m really fine with that. But from a math standpoint, can’t you agree it doesn’t really make sense?”

Registrar: “I just have a list.”

Me: “But—”

Registrar: “I just have a list! You weren’t in the top ten, so you didn’t get the award. I have other students to talk to, so go back to class.”

(There were no other students waiting, but I decided to let this one go.)