(I work in the office of the Chemistry Department at a university. We have some of our courses available online, as well as on campus. Since our department phone number is listed on the website, sometimes people call us when they should talk to admissions or the registrar’s office first.)

Me: “Department of Chemistry. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Student: “I’m a new, non-degree-seeking student, and I want to take the online organic chemistry. I have a question about sending in my transcripts to show I meet the prerequisites.”

Me: “Do you know which organic chemistry course you are interested in? We have two sequential courses online. I want to make sure I check the correct prerequisites for you.”

(After a few minutes of back and forth, I figure out which one the student is interested in.)

Me: “The prerequisite for that course is just one year of general chemistry. When you try to register, is it giving you any registration errors?”

Student: “Should I send in my transcripts to the department so I can get an override to register for the course?”

Me: “Are you getting an error message when you try to register?”

Student: “I haven’t tried yet.”

Me: “I would hold off for the moment. Try registering for the class. If your transcripts made it into our systems during the admission process, you may not need an override.”

Student: “I just sent in my application today. When do classes start this term?”

Me: “Today is the end of the first week of classes this term. You haven’t been admitted yet?”

Student: “Not yet. I just sent in the application a few minutes ago. Should I email my transcripts to the department so I can get the override?”

Me: “You’ll need to wait until you are admitted, and then attempt to register. It may be too late to register for classes this term, depending on when you are allowed to register. Once you are admitted and the registrar’s office informs you that you are allowed to register, go ahead and give it a try. If you encounter any registration errors, you can use the webform to send in your info, and we then need to get instructor approval. If it is over a week into the term, the instructor may not grant it.”

(We are on a quarter system, with 10-week terms, the 11th week being finals week.)

Student: “You mean I can’t just send in my information for the override so you have it?”

Me: “If you send something in now, and we don’t have a student ID number to connect to it, it may get lost. And it may be too late to get any kind of override. If you encounter issues trying to register, we can do our best to help you at that time. For now, it would be best to wait for admissions to make their decision.”

(A little bit more back and forth, and I finish the call. Turning to a coworker in the office:)

Me: “Isn’t it customary to wait for the letter of acceptance before trying to register for classes?”

(I am looking for a second backpack to take with me on a particularly long hiking trip I have planned with my significant other. Usually we just take one pack between the two of us, since we only do day hikes, but we figure we’ll need extra water and supplies in this case. We’re not having much luck finding a backpack we actually like, so I go to talk to an employee working in that section. It’s worth noting that I’m a young, fairly dainty-looking woman, and the employee is an older man.)

Me: *holding a sturdy but light, well-ventilated backpack with several pockets and a very large hip strap* “Hi, I’m looking for something a bit like this: a pack that’s fairly structured, and the back should be cooler, and—”

Employee: *interrupting* “—what do you mean cooler? Cooler how?”

(He gives me a strange look. I’m not sure whether he thinks he’s being funny or literally doesn’t understand.)

Me: *smiles and chuckles uncomfortably* “Temperature cooler, because the back is ventilated. And one that’s fairly light and—”

Employee: *interrupting again, in a very condescending tone* “Well, then, it looks like you’ve got one right there!”

Me: *starting to get annoyed* “Right, but I want one without the big hip strap. It just gets in the way, and it isn’t necessary on a pack this small.”

Employee: *again in the condescending tone* “Well, we have a few without straps, for carrying books and such, for school.”

Me: “No, I want it for hiking. The ones for books tend to be too heavy to carry all day. How about a hiking backpack?”

Employee: “Well, there’s this over here; the hip straps are so small you don’t even notice them and could cut them right off!”

(He picks up a backpack made of cheap, flimsy material that feels like plastic and could obviously tear easily.)

Me: “No, that’s really flimsy. I said I wanted one with a little more structure and—”

Employee: *wanders away muttering*

(I ended up finding one I liked on my own, but decided to order it online instead; this is one local business I feel NO need to support!)

(My parents and I are watching the movie “Frozen” on DVD. We reach this scene:)

Kristoff: “What if you hate the way he picks his nose?”

Anna: “Picks his nose?”

Kristoff: “And eats it.”

Anna: “Excuse me, sir. He is a prince.”

Kristoff: “All men do it.”

(My mom accuses my dad playfully.)

Mom: “Do you?”

(My dad doesn’t respond. My mom repeats the question several times, more and more seriously and surprised.)

Dad: “Just drop it, okay?”

(I guess that line is more accurate than most people expected!)

(I recently moved to a nice, but relatively expensive apartment community. Craving takeout, I order food from one of the many new options I’ve yet to explore. Some time later, my doorbell rings three times, followed by door knocks to the beat of shave-and-a-haircut. I open the door and am greeted by the delivery driver, a Caucasian male in his late twenties, pacing in front of my door.)

Driver: “Can you believe what they did?”

Me: “Er, sorry?”

Driver: “They sent me out without an address. I need an address to give you your food! Is that where you work?” *he points at the logo on my shirt, which is from a bike tour*

Me: “Uh… No.”

Driver: “They’re idiots.” *he hands me a receipt with no line* “Sign this.”

Me: “Where?”

Driver: “Anywhere; just sign it.” *touches my forearm* “What’s that?”

Me: “A tattoo?”

Driver: “Uh, duh.” *he takes the receipt* “You know, I’ve been waitlisted for these apartments for years, but they let all these immigrants live here. I hope Trump does something about them soon.”

Me: “Right.”

Driver: *hands me my food and turns to walk away* “I can’t believe those idiots.”

(In between his questions, he kept trying to peek inside my apartment. As soon as he left, I closed and locked my door, and made a mental note to never order from that place again!)

(My group of college friends has one fellow who is from a wealthy family in Panama. One day in the cafeteria he gets an orange with his lunch. When it comes time to eat it, he can’t figure out how to get it open. Baffled, we ask:)

Me: “Have you ever peeled one before?”

Friend: “No! That’s women’s work!”