(I work at a pretty popular furniture store. A girl and her friend come in. After looking around for a bit and giggling to themselves, the girls come up to me.)

Girl #1: “Hi. Yeah… we… like… we wanted to know… do you guys sell band members here?”

Me: “Sorry, what?”

Girl #1: “Yeah! Band members! Like, you know, people who are in bands and play music?”

Me: “Oh! No, we don’t really sell band posters, sorry.”

Girl #1: “No! Not posters! We want band members!”

Me: “What? You mean you want me to sell you the actual band members? As in the actual people who play in the band?”

Both Girls: “Yeah!”

Me: “I’m sorry… I don’t think we have any in stock, and we’re probably not going to get some anytime soon. Actually, I think no store will have what you’re looking for, girls.”

Girl #1: “Aw, really?”

Girl #2: “Come on… Are you sure? Not even clones?”

Me: “Yeah, I think the most you will find will be posters and band merchandise. With pictures of them, maybe, but not the actual people. I’m very sorry.”

Both Girls: “Aw… it’s okay; sorry for bothering you.”

(As they walk away, I overhear them talking.)

Girl #2: “Aw, I really wanted a Billie Joe Armstrong.”

Girl #1: “Yeah… I guess our best bet is asking Adrienne if she’s willing to share.”

Girl #2: “Yep, we should do it. I mean, it’s like… It’s not like I want to marry him or something. I just want to be his friend, and cuddle with him, and pet his hair. Don’t forget about petting his hair.”

Girl #1: “Same here! Hmm, you know what this means, right?”

Girl #2: “Yeah. Let’s ask her on both Twitter and Instagram until she finally answers.”

(My manager has heard everything and comes over to me laughing. We’re both huge Green Day fans.)

Manager: “Oh, God… Were they… really?

Me: “Yeah.”

(My manager starts singing to the tune of the chorus of the song “Stray Heart”.)

Manager: “Everything that they want, they want from him, but they just can’t have him. Everything that they need, they need from therapy, but they won’t realize it.”

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(My first boyfriend and I are thirteen, and we are having our first fight. Neither of us has ever kissed anyone. We find a relatively empty hallway to argue in. None of my friends know I have a boyfriend, and we’re both big nerds.)

Me: “I can’t believe you! I… I… I hope you step on a Lego!”

Boyfriend: “Oh, yeah? I hope you step on a Lego set.”

Me: “I hope you step on the Lego Eiffel Tower!”

Boyfriend: “Well, I hope you step on a Lego Taj Mahal.”

Me: “I hope you step on a Lego Super Star Destroyer!”

Boyfriend: “Really? I hope you step on a Lego Death Star!”

Me: “That would be the destruction of art.”

(With no warning, he steps forward and kisses me. I am kind of surprised at first, but we have been kissing for about five seconds when my two best friends turn the corner of the hallway, looking for me. They know him as my good guy friend and stop in shock.)

Me: “I… we…”

Boyfriend: “Well, she said stepping on a Lego Death Star would be the destruction of art, and I really couldn’t help it.”

(My friends practically fell over themselves laughing. Ten years later, he proposed to me on Valentine’s Day evening. We’re getting married in May, and my friends are set to be my bridesmaids. Whenever anyone asks how we met, I tell them I threatened to step on the Death Star.)

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(I am a Japanese teacher. I am presiding over homeroom. A female student, who had a pretty serious fight with her boyfriend in the hall before homeroom, is intently writing on a piece of paper.)

Student: “Ugh, I can’t do this anymore!”

(She throws down her pen and calls up to me.)

Student: “Love is too hard!”

Me: “Well, I know it always seems that way after having a fight. But, you know, people have disagreements all the time and work through them. Besides, you’re still young, and part of this age is discovering how to be in a relationship with others. I am sure he is just as upset as you are.”

(She looks at me quizzically and then holds up the paper she is working on.)

Student: “I meant trying to write it in Japanese for your homework.”

Me: “Oh. Yeah. That can be hard, too.”

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