When I lived in my old apartment, the overhead light in the bedroom stopped working. Since my boyfriend and I hadn’t lived here long, we didn’t know what type of bulb to get. So he took the light bulb out and it looked unconventional. So we brought the bulb to a few big box stores and couldn’t find it.
On the first of the following month we brought the bulb with us when we went to the office to drop off rent. The realtor lady rather rudely told us they didn’t have it and it was our problem.
My boyfriend and each asked our parents if they recognized it and my dad recommended a special light bulb store.
We thought about it and decided not to bother going. Instead we just used a table lamp for the rest of the time we lived there, about 10 months. We moved out and left the dead light bulb in the ceiling light for their maintenance to fix. They didn’t take the light bulb out of our security deposit so we never paid for it. It didn’t stop us from looking for it whenever we went into a new store. Its been 2 years and I still haven’t seen any light bulb that looks the way that one did.

Many years ago, I attended US Army ROTC Basic Camp at Fort KNox, Kentucky.

I soon learned that, despite being college students, many of the other cadets – especially those from the east coast) were remarkably ignorant about the USA, never mind foreign countries.

Several of the other cadets realized this too, and while waiting for something or other (Army life: Hurry up and wait!) we started a general-purpose bull session that drifted onto the topic of wildlife . . . Eventually someone mentioned the Jackalope (This was before it becamse a recurring meme on TV) and then the sidehill gouger, the splintercat, and other cryptozoological fauna . . . though not the chupacabra, since this was before the chupacabra became known.

One of the other (eastern) cadets was solemnly taking it in, which concerned me since I liked him, and he was highly competent and knowledable. How do I tell him he’s being led down the garden path, preferably without tipping off some of the others?

Then he brought up the toller . . . and the flat . . . and the hide-behinder . . .

Oh.

Well, in that case, there was only one thing to do: I swore to his stories!

While I hadn’t seen the hide-behinder, I knew someone who had . . . he said it was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen, and scared his hair white . . .

I have a coworker who to put it nicely is very conceit. We are thirteen months into a global pandemic and there hasn’t a day gone by that I haven’t heard a rant about how if she got the virus SHE would be in big trouble. But how I am young and healthy and could recover. That would mean she would take her health super seriously and wear a mask, right?

Each time she thinks she has it because people around her get it, she bursts into the office with no mask on and steals the thermometer. This happens like clockwork every three weeks. I have to buy multiple thermometers because she never returns them. And unfortunately, while we could work from home, she insists we are all in the office so there is no escaping this vain woman.

In August, I decide to sign up for the vaccine trial after she tells me how one of her friends is waiting on her COVID results after experiencing symptoms before ending the conversation with how they were going out to dinner that night… Yes, seriously.

Long story short, I fortunately get on the trial and am one of the lucky ones who gets vaccinated in September. Though, I don’t know this until early February.

When she finds out I am on the vaccine trial, she has a visceral reaction and treats me like a leper the entire time. She refuses to even discuss the vaccine because of how dangerous she thinks it is. All while complaining about how COVID could kill her.

Finally, she relents and gets the vaccine after everyone else in our office gets it. I suspect it is namely for the bragging rights as again this woman is a straight-up narcissist. And as you can probably guess, she decides the day after her second shot, she decides to roll in with no mask on!

I have never hated someone more.

It is Halloween of my freshman year of college, and an organization on campus has set up a haunted house in the basement of one of the dorm rooms. Long, thick fabric hanging from the ceiling creates pitch-dark, claustrophobic “halls” that lead suddenly to larger, semi-lit “rooms” where the scares take place. There are 3 people in each group that goes through the haunted house, single file.

I am a short, small, quiet, unimposing white woman with no interest in sports. Behind me in line is a VERY tall, VERY buff black man and his girlfriend, who is also black and about my height and build. (This becomes relevant.) In front of me are 3 average-build white guys.

As we wait in the vestibule to be let in, Tall Guy approaches me diffidently, with his girlfriend giggling behind him.

Tall Guy: “Hey, I’m really sorry, but, I get really scared in these things, but I lost a bet with my girlfriend there and she said I had to come. Would you mind holding my hand while we go through?

I manage to keep a smile off my face and agree. We go through, dropping hands each time we get to a “scare room.”

When we are about halfway through, one of the “scare rooms” goes dark, and the creepy, cackling “scarer” tells us to go of to the left. I have trouble hearing her, thorough, because as soon as the lights go out, Tall Guy starts screaming.

Tall Guy: “Where’s that white chick! White chick! Where’d you go? White chick! Please don’t leave me here alone!”

Girlfriend: “Hey, you shut up or I’ll drop your hand!”

Meanwhile, I find his hand, and for the rest of the haunted house, he doesn’t release it even in the “scare rooms.” When we reach the end, he thanks me as his girlfriend teases him.

A few months later, and the spring semester has begun. I go to a large, upper-level Middle Eastern history class and try to sit in the front row to compensate for my need for new glasses, only to be told that is reserved for football players, ROTC, and their friends. As I try to find a seat in the second or third row, I hear a half remembered voice.

Tall Guy: “Hey! White chick! Remember me from Halloween?”

Me: “Oh! Hey! Tall guy! You survived the scare season! Did your girlfriend make you go to any more haunted houses?”

Tall Guy, grinning, “Did you call me ‘tall guy’? That’s great. My brother’s taller than me. I’ll have to rub that in his face. My name’s [His Name]. Yeah, my girlfriend [Her Name] tried to get me to go to one of those haunted corn mazes, but just wouldn’t. I’ll have to tell her I saw that white chick again though. I swear you saved me from a heart attack.”

At this point, most of the other students have arrived, and all but the front row was totally full, with the front row only half full.

Professor, irritatedly: “I guess if you know [Tall Guy’s name] you can sit here.”

Confused, I do so, and Tall Guy and I continue to chat. He tells me he’s a junior on the football team, and I explain that I am a history major and had AP credit for the lower level history classes. The ROTC students arrive in uniform en mass and fill up the rest of the first row.

Tall Guy asks if I want to join him and his girlfriend for lunch in the main dining ball, and I agree.

Once we get there, I follow him to a small, secluded room with two large tables. I realize from the physiques of the guys sitting there that this is likely the football team.

Tall Guy: “Hey, y’all remember White Chick from Halloween that [Girlfriend] keeps teasing me about? Yeah, this is her, [My Name]. We have Mid East together.

Football Player #1: “Ohhh, dude, with [Professor]? He’s tough. I had him last year. I can memorize dates and stuff easy, but he always wants you to go into like the deep backgrounds and motivations and stuff. Give me facts any day!”

Me: “I’m actually a history major and studied most of what’s on the syllabus in high school, so that’s a relief for me!”

Girlfriend: “I have him in the afternoon and I’m crap at that kind of thing.”

Football player #2: “Same with us.” (Gesturing to either side of him at Football Player #3 and #2’s girlfriend.)

Me: “Well, if any of y’all need help, I used to tutor in high school, so I’m pretty good at explaining that kind of stuff. It’s what all my teachers there wanted.”

A nervous talker, I take out the syllabus and proceed to give a mini-lecture about the topic we are due to cover the second day of class.

Tall Guy: “Dude. You know your stuff! You’ll tutor us? Let me call and clear it with coach! There will have to be like background checks and references stuff, but you’ll get to come with us on the long away games.”

Me: “Wait, what?”

It turns out that the football teams had dedicated tutors for various subjects, and the history tutor had quit suddenly due to family circumstances.

After a few days and many meetings and calls with my advisor, the head football coach, and my high school teachers, I take a final for the Middle Eastern History class, that professor glaring at me the whole time. I pass with a 97%.

I am told that I can now tutor the football team for the spring and summer semesters, since my references were stellar and I had now passed all the classes that football players were taking that semester. I got a fairly generous salary, travel weekends, and a whole pack of new friends! My dorm room fees for the summer were also waived, as I hadn’t planned to attend that optional semester. I was also moved to an Elizabethan History class that happens during the same time slot- one that was “full” and that I’d wanted to take anyway!

It just goes to show what a friendly demeanor and a lot of serendipity can get you! I still keep up with Tall Guy and his girlfriend, who are married, and Tall Guy went pro football for a few years before deciding to work in a job that would injure him less.

I had bought one of those clicker type traning devices to train my dog with……… scene: me having Buster’s favorite treats, the clicker, and Buster ( my dog) out on his leash. The neighbors have two Rotties ( i will call them Rocky ( male) and Maggie ( female) for the sake of the story. Here I am desparatly trying to get Buster’s attention with the clicker and being ignored by him. I look up and in their pen stands Rocky and Maggie at attention. That is how I found out on accedent that my neighbor’s dogs were clicker trained. Both Rocky and Maggie did not bark or act agressive, but was just as still as two statues!