(My mom has this conversation in the grocery store. Bear in mind, we are white and have traced our ancestry back to Germany and Ireland, and my mom is your typical Irish lass: Red hair, green eyes, pale skin, and freckles. She gets a lot of comments on her looks.)
Black Man: “I like your freckles.”
Mom: “Thank you.”
Black Man: “Do you think that’s black pigmentation?”
Mom: *confused* “Um, what?”
Black Man: “You could be a light version of us.”
(I work as an IT technician for my college during the summer, and they are in the process of upgrading their phone system. I have replaced a certain older professor’s phone the previous day and left both a full manual of how to use the phone as well as a more condensed “how-to” pamphlet. Mind you, the phone is not difficult to use and works exactly like any other office phone. The professor in question calls the help desk.)
Me: “Hello, IT help desk. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”
Professor: “Yeah, I need to know how to use the new phone.”
(I am confused, as he is calling on that very phone.)
Me: “Is there a certain feature you’re not sure of how to use?”
Professor: “I just need to know how to make calls on it.”
(I am very confused now.)
Me: “It should work just like your old phone, just pick up the handset and start dialing. You can check your voicemail by pushing the button that looks like an envelope.”
Professor: “Why are we changing them, anyway?”
Me: “Our old system is really outdated and is costing us a lot to maintain.”
Professor: “Well, who is paying for all these new phones?”
Me: “I’m not sure of what part of the budget it’s coming out of, but it will actually save us money in the long-run.”
Professor: “Well, we’re all dead in the long-run.”
Me: *speechless for the next full 30 seconds* “Umm, yep… Is there anything else you need?”
Professor: “Nope, bye.”
Me: “Have a nice day.”
Customer: “I received the pillows, but they did not come with instructions on how to use them. Please help!”
I’m a single woman, and I decided I wanted to travel, and do so alone. I’d been saving up money and vacation hours for several years for an international vacation. I chose to go to London. I decided to buy a wheeled duffel bag, with a separate trolley, to use as my carry-on. That decision prompted this situation.
I flew from my small city into a major city for the flight to Heathrow. Since I was coming in on a puddle jumper, I had quite a ways to get to the international gate. On the first escalator, I picked up my brand new wheeled duffel, and the handle broke. I managed to get to my gate without it breaking more severely, but it was very difficult.
After I found my gate, I went into all the stores around me, asking if they had tape or glue or something to repair it. No one did, but one lady went to check their storage room and came back with a handful of rubber-bands that she gave to me. She also helped me determine that a screw had failed, and they happened to have little eyeglass screwdrivers, so I bought one, and some candy, in case she got commission. She’s the first awesome stranger in this story. If you’re reading this, thanks again.
I got back to my gate, and tried to MacGyver a repair. I remembered that I had packed a sandwich bag worth of craft supplies, including some teeny rolls of washi tape, which is decorative paper tape for crafting. Between that and the rubber bands, the handle was holding together, as long as you didn’t look at it too hard. And you wouldn’t want to look at it, because it was really ugly.
While I was fixing it, my bag was in front of me, but I was trying to keep out of the way of traffic. At one point, someone came by, and I said, “Excuse me, sorry,” and nudged the bag a little out of the way. Then he said, “How are you doing?” and since I’m honest and a bit strange I said, “Okay-ish.” I didn’t think much of it, and the man passed me.
I finished fixing the bag, and was sitting there upset at that stupid bag. I even wrote a review for the bag. I was in a rotten mood.
After five or ten minutes, a man came by and asked, “Why did you say, ‘okay-ish’?”
I realized he was the man who passed me, so I explained about the brand new handle breaking, and my efforts to repair it. He commiserated with me and said I needed my money back. He then asked about my plans, and I said I was going to London for a vacation. I told him that it was my first time, but I had always wanted to visit the UK, specifically England. He was from London, but lived in the States, and was on his way home for a little while and then going on to Europe.
Then, and this is why he stuck in my memory, he asked, “Do you have paper and a pen?” I brought out my travel planner, and he proceeded to give me notes of all the must-dos from a Londoner point of view, including an open-air market because, “You’d like it; it’s quirky like you.” And the must-eats, including good restaurants. I took loads of notes, and I still have them. We must have spoken more than 15 minutes. He was awesome. When he went back to his seat, I was in a much better mood.
Stranger in the airport, if you read this: you’ll never know how much that simple conversation helped me.
(I work for my university, prepping equipment and chemicals for the undergraduate lab classes. Since I’m working with a lot of chemical stains, I usually show up to work wearing lab coats and my rattiest T-shirts. However, I’m also a research student, and we’re required to dress up when we present our work at the biannual symposium. As such, I’m wearing a nice dress today instead of my usual cut-offs and T-shirt, and apparently some people weren’t expecting it.)
Lab Manager: “Excuse me, miss, you can’t be in… Holy s***, [My Name]! I didn’t recognize you! Why the hell are you wearing a dress?!”
Me: “It’s symposium day; I have to dress up to present my work.”
Lab Manager: “Christ, that’s today? Well, good luck! You do look nice; I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a skirt. It’s weird.”
(Later, in the research lab…)
Principal Investigator: “Holy cow, [My Name]. You look great! Why don’t you dress like that every day?”
Me: “Because most days, I’m hauling formaldehyde-soaked dissection specimens or scrubbing test tubes out with bleach, and I like this dress!”
Principal Investigator: *laughing* “Fair enough. So, ready for your presentation?”
(My presentation did actually go very well, but I continued getting spit-take reactions throughout the day. Since then, I’ve made it a point to dress up one or two days a semester when I’m not working; the double-takes are just too much fun!)
