(I work at a stadium. Across the street is a small mom-and-pop bodega owned by a very nice family from India. I usually eat there because the food is good and cheap, and the location is convenient. On game days, they get slammed with drunk tailgaters walking over from the stadium. This exchange takes place one afternoon on my lunch break.)

Owner: “Hello. How are you today, and what may I get you?”

Me: “I am doing well, sir, and you? It looks like you guys are super busy, so I will just take a [pre-made sandwich]. Thank you!”

(As he hands me my lunch and rings me up, he hands me three lottery tickets.)

Me: “Oh, I don’t need these; I didn’t pay for them.”

Owner: “Take them as a gift, sir. You are literally the only person who has been polite and talked to me as a human being all d*** day!”

(See, kids? It pays to be polite!)

(My mom has gotten in the habit of thumping my brother and I on the backs of our heads if we ever get sassy. It isn’t hard enough to hurt or to do damage, but definitely enough to get our attention. We’re walking out of Spider-Man when my brother starts mouthing off.)

Mom: “[Brother], cut it out!”

Brother: *mockingly* “Cut it out!”

(My mom goes to thump him, but my brother ducks and avoids it.)

Mom: “Your back was to me! How did you do that?”

Brother: “My spidey senses were tingling.”

(I am “the IT guy” for a large distribution center with lots of automation and machinery. I am checking the wireless network signal in a work module that has three floors of product racks crammed into a two-story building, with conveyor belts running through it to boot. I finish in the back of the module and decide to use the back stairway instead of walking back through the crowded module, but the door is jammed shut. Walking back to the front, I meet the head of security.)

Guard: “Hey, [My Name], did you open that back stairwell door?”

Me: “I tried, but it was stuck and wouldn’t open more than an inch or so.”

Guard: “That’s a fire exit door, so when it gets opened we have an alarm go off in the monitoring station. We would’ve called the fire department, except there was only a single door in alarm.”

Me: “Sorry, didn’t know.”

(There were no “emergency exit” signs on the door, or any other indicators that it was a fire exit. The guard and I begin going our separate ways, then I stop and call back to him.)

Me: “Hey, [Guard], seeing as how that’s a fire exit door, is the fact that it wouldn’t open a problem?”

Guard: *look of startled realization creeps across his face* “I think I’ll call maintenance.”

(I’m a customer in line for a midnight premiere showing of a movie featuring a lot of violence. The movie has some notoriety because a little girl says a particularly bad word in one scene. The movie features superheroes, however, and one family has mistaken it for a kid-friendly movie.)

Cashier: “Ma’am, I can’t recommend you seeing this movie with your kids.” *gestures to two kids in superhero Halloween costumes* “It’s rated R, and isn’t appropriate for them.”

Mom: “I raise my kids right. I pay your salary. They’ll see what we want. It’s just pretend superheroes, like Spider-Man and s***!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve read the comic book; it’s really gory and bloody. You might want to look it up first, just in case.”

Mom: “F*** you!”

(In the opening scene of the movie, a deranged man in a bird costume jumped from a roof, and splatted into the ground. This woman immediately stood up and paraded her kids and husband out. Over an hour-and-a-half later as we left, she was still yelling at the ticket guy. Poor ticket guy.)

(In our neighborhood lives a mockingbird who used to drive me crazy. I can only tolerate him now because he learned a new phrase from some kids playing Star Wars:)

Mockingbird: “Jar Jar BINKS! Jar Jar BINKS! Pew! Pew! Pew!”

(Imagining Jar Jar being shot is satisfying in itself. Add in the amusement factor of a literal birdbrain understanding how very irritating Jar Jar is, and it makes me smile every time.)