(I work at the front desk of a veterinary hospital. The Saturday right before Thanksgiving, a man approaches me.)

Me: “How can I help you today, sir?”

Customer: “Yeah, I need new food for my cat.” *he hands me an old prescription diet card that looks to have expired months ago*

Me: “Okay. Are you a client of ours or do you have an outside vet?”

Customer: “Outside vet.”

Me: “Did you bring a note from your vet to renew the prescription?”

Customer: “No, I didn’t.”

Me: *after a second, I look up his pet in our system* “Well, we have their phone number on file. Let me just give them a ring and confirm.”

(After a minute or so, I get a message saying that the other hospital is closed for the day.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t renew this prescription without authorization from your vet.”

Customer: *visibly annoyed* “You seriously can’t help me with this?”

Me: “I’m sorry.”

Customer: “I guess my cat will just have to starve then.”

Me: “I guess. Or you could feed it regular food.”

(I’m a research student. My PI has twin five-year-old girls, and I have a side job doing costumes for a children’s theater camp, so we both know every word to every Disney song ever written, for better or worse. One day while we’re waiting for a polymerase reaction to run, we’re singing Moana songs, not loudly, to pass the time. Right around the time we reach “We Know the Way,” we hear from down the hall…)

Random Research Student: “Will you nerds please shut up?! I am so f****** sick of hearing that everywhere!”

Voice: *from the lab next to ours* “You shut up; I’m enjoying it! If you have a problem with it, shut your door, but it’s keeping me entertained while my reaction incubates. I think the phrase you’re looking for is, ‘Thank you!’”

(Without missing a beat, my professor and I launched into, “You’re Welcome.” A second later, we heard the third voice join in, and a door down the hall slam.)

(It’s my birthday.)

Mom: “I’m so glad you decided to come into this family.”

Me: “Yeah, well, it wasn’t really my decision. It was way comfier just hanging out in your uterus, but, of course, you had to kick me out against my will. You are the worst landlord ever.”

Mom: *laughs*

(I’m hostessing at a restaurant near a very well-known theater and we have just emptied out after a massive rush. We ran out of a certain beer and in midst of the craziness, we forgot to take down signs on our revolving door advertising the said beer we ran out of. A group of loud intoxicated people come in the revolving door. With some back and forth — I have trouble understanding them — I finally get them seated at a table.)

Me: *to their server* “Heads up, they’re really drunk.”

Server: “Got it, thanks.” *the servers determine if intoxicated people can be served or not*

(He heads over to the table. The next thing I know, one of the drunkest, burliest men is yelling at the server and I catch “sign” and “door” and the name of the beer we ran out of.)

Server: *to me as he walks quickly to get a manager* “He’s upset because we don’t have that beer were advertising on the door.”

(The manager goes over and apologizes for our mistake and explains we are just bouncing back from a packed house that had an hour-plus wait. The drunk angry man stands up and starts swearing, and my equally burly manager kind of guides him to the door and asks him to leave. The drunk guy keeps screaming about false advertisement and then starts RIPPING off all the signs in the revolving door, as he’s going through it.)

Manager: *while the few remaining guests stare* “Well, at least he saved us the trouble of taking them off that door.”

(Luckily we all got a good chuckle, especially at the immaturity of that man.)

(I teach at a small high school and have taught the same group their freshman through junior years. The juniors are my first group of the day. They have a reputation for being pretty obnoxious. There are known drug dealers and other tough kids in the class. One Monday, I come to work with the entire right side of my face bruised, including a black eye.)

Me: “Okay, folks. I know I don’t normally sit when I teach, but I’m a little achy today, so bear with me.”

(Hands shoot up, and I call on one of toughest kids, who is currently wearing an ankle monitor from his last time in court.)

Student: “Ms. [My Name], what happened to you?”

Me: “I’m fine; I just tripped on my top step and took a nose dive off my deck.”

(I try to go back to my presentation, but the same student is quietly but obviously talking with some of his friends. I’m about to tell him to stop when his hand goes up again.)

Student: “Uh… Ms. [My Name], are you sure that’s what happened? Or do you have a boyfriend the guys and I need to talk to?”

(I reassured him that I am just that clumsy. Things like this are why I continue to teach where I do. Many of my students who are often in trouble can also be some of the sweetest, in their own ways!)

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