(I go to eat at a buffet-style Mongolian restaurant with “Genghis” in the name on my lunch break. During the meal, I can’t help but overhear a nearby table.)

Patron: “When in Genghis, do as the Genghans do.”

(I have a friend who does not have any talent for languages, but has a well-known love for those video games where you manage an empire and either plot world-domination or achieve victory by diplomacy or other means. We are in French class, and my friend has been asked to answer a question in French.)

Friend: *in plain Dutch* “I can’t; I don’t know how to.”

Teacher: “You need to learn languages. Do your best! Imagine you’re playing your empire control game. What if a region under your control only has French citizens? How would you rule them?”

Friend: “I don’t; I execute them all.”

Teacher: “Not the point I was making, but I suppose it would work.”

(My five-year-old asks me to tell him a new fairy tale every night. I have begun to look up lists, as I want to find some I have never heard as well. One night, I decide to tell a fairly old one that I know by heart, since I am tired.)

Me: “Okay, I want to tell you one I already know, since it is late and I am super tired.”

Son: “Okay, what is it?”

Me: “Well, it’s old, but it has a good message. It’s about a tortoise and hare.”

Son: “A Tardis and a hair?”

Me: *blinks* “What did you say?”

Son: “A Tardis and a hair? Why would the Tardis have hair?”

Me: *laughing* “Not a Tardis… A tortoise! It’s like a turtle. And not a hair, but an H-A-R-E. It’s essentially a rabbit.”

Son: “Oh, I was about to ask if the Doctor changed it because a police box was kind of obvious.”

(I just blinked some more… Who has a five-year-old who thinks about that?!)

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I am doing some stock take at a high-end watch shop. Each watch has a long serial number on the back, a combination of letters and numbers. All the staff use the International Radio Alphabet (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, etc.) to call out the serial numbers. The store manager comes from upstairs, needing a watch to transfer to another store — a fairly common occurrence.

He needs to note the serial number on our POS system, but elects to write the number down and fill it in later.

The number is called up to him as another sales staff packages up the watch in a pretty box.

Later, the manager is getting frustrated with the POS system not accepting the serial number.

He’s about to go berserk at the sales clerk that’s reading him the number, until I check, and the manager is trying to enter “Whiskey Romeo 3456” rather than “WR3456″ into the database.”

(My mother worked as a secretary at the school my younger brothers and I attended from kindergarten to eighth grade, and had her share of humorous mishaps. When I enter middle school and begin getting dismissed earlier, I bring a book to my mother’s office and read until it’s time to pick up my brothers. On this day, she’s a little nervous about having to call some higher-ups about a chronically truant student, and repeatedly reminds me to be quiet when she finally picks up the phone.)

Mom: “This student’s attendance is—” *intending to say either “horrendous” or “atrocious”* “—horrocious!” *realizes what she’s said, smacks her forehead with one hand* “I mean…”

(Luckily, the person on the other end of the phone actually found it pretty funny, and, “That’s horrocious!” became a bit of a running joke with the staff for a while.)