(I’m talking quietly to a female friend about birth control at a party.)

Me: “So, my doctor recommended I get an IUD inserted—”

Eavesdropping Male Friend: *loudly* “Why’d your doctor tell you to get an IED inserted?”

(I had to explain to a roomful of people that no, my doctor hadn’t told me to get an improvised explosive device implanted in me.)

(I work in a major university’s IT department in campus support at the front desk. We fix computers that are brought in to us for no charge to anyone with a university e-mail address, including students and staff. Student workers and interns assigned to the front desk are tasked with assessing each customer’s issue, determining the most efficient way of resolving the situation, and generating appropriate documentation. An older lady enters the office and asks for help at the front desk.)

Customer: “I’m not a student here and I don’t have an account with you, but I need help with my computer.”

Me: *taken aback* “Oh, uh, what seems to be the issue?”

Customer: “On my desktop at home, I can’t send emails without routing them through Russia. I was just wondering if one of your technicians could delete Russia off of my computer.”

Me: “We can’t really offer support for machines or people not affiliated with the university, and we can’t fix a computer that’s not here…”

Customer: “Oh, of course.”

(The customer turned and asked the adjacent electronic sales representative, there to sell laptops to students, about the discounts the storefront offers, despite still not having a university account. The sales representative performed his full spiel about the benefits of purchasing through the storefront or the university’s online store. After a few minutes of this, the customer excused herself, saying she would think about it. After she left, I explain to the representative what happened.)

Representative: *sheepish* “I really hope she doesn’t come back.”

(I have a friend who is an exchange student from Canada, and for some reason, hates that citizens of the USA call themselves Americans. She’s said it all, from how it’s basically us calling ourselves superior to others in the Americas, to how we’re calling people like her inferior, to it just being confusing for the whole world. Finally, I decide enough is enough, so one day in class…)

Canadian Friend: “I just don’t get why you call yourselves ‘Americans.’”

Me: “Probably because it’s part of our country’s name?”

Canadian Friend: “But it’s so stupid. Why don’t you guys call yourselves something else?”

(That statement causes some in the classroom to laugh when they hear it.)

Me: “What else are we supposed to call ourselves?”

Canadian Friend: “Statesmen?”

Me: “Not happening.”

Canadian Friend: “Your state names?”

Me: “We did that before the Civil War, and it did not end well.”

Canadian Friend: “Well, how about USAians or United Statians?”

Me: “Once people from other countries start calling themselves Republicans or Unionians, then we’ll consider it.”

Canadian Friend: “Stop that! No other country has their continent name in their country name; you guys are the only ones who do!”

Me: “…So does South Africa not exist in Canada or something?”

(My friend then literally screamed and stormed out of the room. It was quiet for a few seconds, then everyone continued on as if nothing happened. I get that some people might be upset by the name, but trying that in a rural town in Virginia might not work in your favor. Just saying.)

(I am in charge of costuming all of the Sunday School kids for our church’s annual Christmas pageant. I have made a stack of patched, ragged tunics and headgear out of donated sheets, towels, etc. for the shepherds, and told them that they need to either bring a pair of dark colored leather sandals (no flip-flops) to wear that night, or if they prefer they can go barefoot. The dressing area is in the basement, and it’s a little chilly. An eleven-year-old boy has donned his tunic (and shorts under the tunic; I’m not a stickler for realism) and is arguing with me about his footwear.)

Boy: “Why can’t I wear my socks and running shoes? I’m cold!”

Me: “Because you’re a poor shepherd.”

Boy: “Couldn’t I be a rich shepherd?”

The store where I work is doing a promotion where one customer per day gets up to $100 dollars worth of free groceries. It’s a completely random process, and they aren’t doing a great job of advertising it, so most of the people who are getting free groceries have no idea that could happen.

Today is the first day that I have been the cashier for a winner. He’s a regular at my store, and always polite. So, he wins, and leaves. A few minutes later, though, he comes back with more groceries, and when I comment that he is back so soon he says that since he doesn’t have to spend that money on his family’s groceries, he is spending the same amount he would have spent on his family — for his church’s food bank. $80 worth of groceries.

I am personally grateful for his kindness and thoughtfulness, especially since sometimes my family has to go to the food bank.