(I am at a grocery store on New Year’s Eve. I work in healthcare, so I am working that night, and am picking up some sparkling cider for me and coworkers to open at midnight. I don’t drink, and since we are going to be on duty, it is NOT alcoholic. I am twenty-four years old. I also need isopropyl rubbing alcohol for my home, so I pick that up at the same time. Also note, this is in an area where Mormonism is the predominant religion — a lot of people here don’t drink. The cashier starts ringing up my items and then pauses and looks at the rubbing alcohol and the sparkling cider.)

Cashier: “You know you can’t put the rubbing alcohol in the cider to make it alcoholic.”

Me: “I know.”

Cashier: “No. Really. It’s really dangerous.”

Me: “I know. I’m not going to.”

Cashier: “I don’t think you realize how dangerous it is. This alcohol isn’t for drinking.”

Me: “Look, I work in a children’s hospital, so I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do. I know teens do those types of things. But I just happen to be buying them both at the same time.”

Cashier: “I don’t think you understand… it could kill you.”

Me: “I understand perfectly. However, I don’t drink anyways because of my religion, and I’m on my way to work. I wouldn’t be drinking right now if I did.”

Cashier: “I’ve never heard of a religion that doesn’t drink.”

(This woman apparently lives in Utah but has never heard of a religion that doesn’t drink.)

Cashier: “I don’t think I can in good conscience sell you this.”

Me: “Look. Here’s my ID. I’m 24. If I wanted an alcoholic beverage, I would buy a real one, and not do some weird Prohibition-style punch.”

Cashier: “I want you to understand it’s dangerous.”

Me: “I do.”

Cashier: *shakes her head* “Okay, but I feel really uncomfortably with this.”

(My friend has a very severe case of Celiac disease and cannot eat any gluten without getting incredibly ill. She’s very cautious about what she eats and always makes sure to request gluten-free when ordering food, either for delivery or in a restaurant. It’s Saturday night and we’re having game night at her house. My husband and her husband decide they really want pizza, so we call one of the few local pizza places that guarantee a gluten-free crust with no cross-contamination. When the pizzas arrive, we all start to dig in, until my friend realizes something is very wrong.)

Friend: “Ugh! This isn’t gluten-free! This is thin crust!”

Me: “Are you sure? Maybe the gluten-free is a thin crust.”

Friend’s Husband: “Here, let me taste it.” *takes a bite* “Nope, definitely not gluten-free, and there’s flour all over the bottom of it.”

Friend: “Grrr! Give me the phone. This is bull****!” *dials the restaurant* “Yes, I just had a pizza delivery to my house, and I specifically ordered a small gluten-free with bacon and mushrooms, and I can guarantee this is not gluten-free.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “Yes, I would love to speak to your manager.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “Hi, yes, I just ordered from your store and specifically ordered a small gluten-free pizza with bacon and mushrooms, and not only is this not your gluten-free crust, but it’s covered in flour.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “No, I can’t just ‘eat the pizza;’ I have Celiac disease. Do you know what that is?”

(Pause.)

Friend: “No, it’s not a fad diet. It means if I eat gluten I end up throwing up and having diarrhea for days.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “What I want you to do about it is remake the pizza correctly and have it delivered.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “Yeah, I’m sure you are busy, given that it’s Saturday night, but if you guys had done it correctly the first time this wouldn’t be an issue.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “NO, I AM NOT GIVING YOU MY CREDIT CARD NUMBER! YOU MESSED UP MY ORDER! I AM NOT PAYING FOR A SECOND PIZZA WHEN YOU’RE THE ONES THAT SCREWED UP!”

(Pause.)

Friend: “YES, IT HAS TO BE DELIVERED TONIGHT. I WOULD LIKE TO ACTUALLY EAT TONIGHT!”

(Pause.)

Friend: “Okay, let me explain what I would like from you. I do not want a voucher. I do not want a refund. I just want to be able to eat tonight. I don’t care if it’s going to take 45 minutes to get another pizza to me. Please just remake the pizza, how I ordered it, and have it delivered as soon as possible.”

(Pause.)

Friend: “Okay, great.”

Me: “Wow, so, how’d it go?”

Friend: *gives me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen*

(When her replacement pizza arrived, the delivery guy knocked and then left it on the porch before we could grab the door. It was gluten-free… but with bacon and peppers instead of bacon and mushrooms. She ate it anyway and hasn’t ordered from there since.)

This story is part of our Celiac Awareness Day roundup!

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(I am dating a boy with rust-colored hair. He is the youngest in his family, which otherwise consists entirely of people with dark brown hair, and the next youngest sibling is twenty years older than him.)

Me: “You’re a natural redhead?”

Boyfriend: “Yes!”

Me: “But everyone else in your family is dark-haired… That is strange.”

Boyfriend: “Well, my parents waited twenty years after my brother to have me, so they got a little rusty at it.”

This story is part of our Redhead roundup!

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(My husband and I are trying to re-teach our toddler to sleep in her own bed, as we’ve moved recently. One morning, she comes into our room. Seeing as it’s almost time to get up, we decide to let her cuddle with us. She happily cuddles with me until I tell her I need to nurse her baby sister.)

Daughter: “But I wanna cuddle you!”

Me: *trying to reassure her* “Just cuddle with Daddy for a few minutes. He loves you.”

Daughter: *in tears* “I don’t love him!”

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(I work in a physical therapy clinic. I am a female chatting with a female coworker about our pet cats.)

Me: “He purrs as loud as a mack-truck. I can literally hear him from the other side of the room.”

Female Coworker: “That’s kind of cute, though.”

Me: “The only time he wants to cuddle is between two and four am. He also snuggles up to me and lays across my chest with his face in my face. I’m okay with it until he starts licking my face!”

(A male coworker wanders in, only hearing the part about “him licking my face.”)

Me: “I’m getting kind of tired of it. It’s a really annoying habit of his.”

Male Coworker: “Wait, what are you two talking about? Are you talking about your husband?”

(My female coworker and I burst out laughing.)

Me: “My cat! We’re talking about my cat.” *laughing* “My husband doesn’t lick my face, much less purr. He would also squish me if he laid across my chest.”

Male Coworker: “I wonder if that’s why I couldn’t get any girls to go on a second date with me.” *mimics nuzzling into someone, then sticks out his tongue, pretending to lick someone*

Me: “How did you get your wife to marry you?”

Male Coworker: “Turns out, she’s just as weird as I am.”

Female Coworker: “Well, that conversation just took a turn.”

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