There’s a small dollar store in a shopping center that I like going to because it’s conveniently located near other retailers I visit while doing errands.

This store is in a small shopping center, and people are prone to taking the carts out to their cars and leaving them in the parking lot rather than taking them back to the store, which is only a few hundred feet away at most, because the parking lot is small. 

And because the store itself is also small, they don’t have a large number of carts, which means some days, all of the carts are left in the parking lot.

Since I know it can be frustrating to have to return to the lot to track down a cart, I typically try to grab two or three carts as I head into the store so that other shoppers can have a cart.

On the day of this story, the weather is pleasant, and I’m not in a hurry, so I round up half a dozen carts and am pushing them toward the store when a woman approaches me. Note: I also have my nine-year-old son with me, who has one hand on the cart farthest away from me to help me keep them straight.

Woman: “Ugh, finally! I’ve been standing out here for like fifteen minutes waiting for a cart! You should move faster! This is ridiculous!”

Me: “Okay, well, I don’t work here. I just felt like being a Good Samaritan today, so…” *Shrugs.* “Just take a cart and get to shopping, I guess?”

Woman: *Huffs.* “How rude! You should round up the carts ASAP so that your customers don’t have to wait to do their shopping! Some of us have better things to do than wait on lazy slugs like you!”

My son, who is slightly autistic and does NOT like rude people, gives her a dirty look.

Woman: *Glaring at my son.* “And what’s your problem?!”

Son: *Glaring right back at her.* “You are! You’re a rude person, lady! You need to go learn your manners! My mama doesn’t work here and is just tryin’ to be a nice person, so someone old or holdin’ a baby might can get a cart faster because they need it! You’re a mean person!

At this, the woman turns beet red and mutters to herself before storming into the store.

Son: *Glaring after her and puffing up his cheeks.* “I don’t like that lady! I hope a house falls on her like The Wizard of Oz!”

I nearly choked on my laughter as I told my son that he has to ignore awful people like that. We passed her twice while we were shopping, and both times, my son glared at her, and she turned red as she looked away.

I’m chatting with a coworker, and the topic of heritage comes up.

Coworker: “I’m something like… three hundred and ninety-fourth in line for the French throne. Which doesn’t really mean anything unless they reinstate the monarchy and a whooole lot of people die.”

He pauses, then shrugs.

Coworker: “I don’t think I could do that much killing.”

We live not too far outside of New Orleans. It’s also currently in the middle of Jazz Fest, which is easily one of our state’s biggest festivals with a massive lineup of musical artists.

We’re at home, and I read out a headline whilst checking for local news.

Me: “‘Missing man found dead in [Our Parish]’.”

Mom: “Who’s that?”

Me: “Huh?”

Mom: “You said Missy Man was found dead here?”

Me: “…Jesus Christ, Mom, I said missing man.”

Mom: “Oh… that makes a lot more sense… I thought it was some celebrity here for Jazz Fest I’d never heard of, and I was confused how they found themselves dead in our parish of all places.”

I’m aro/ace, meaning I have absolutely zero interest in sexual or romantic relationships and just have close friends that I treat like family. Of my two best friends, one is bi, and one is gay, so I end up at the gay bar my bi friend bartends at a lot to hang out with them.

I am female, and despite this bar being open to all genders, it is primarily frequented by gay men, so I stand out a little.

It’s a normal Saturday night, [Friend] and I are at the bar where friend [Bar Friend] is working. We’re trying out a new series of drinks he’s put together, themed after a TV show, and just generally talking. 

Two young men, maybe mid-twenties, enter the bar and immediately go up to my bartending friend.

Young Man #1: “Hey, we want to buy all the ladies a drink.”

Bar Friend: *Motions to me.* “Thar she be.”

Young Man #2: “Seriously? This place is packed. Where are all the other ladies?”

Bar Friend: “Uh, do you guys know what bar this is?”

Young Man #1: “[Bar’s Name]. My cousin told us it was the best place in town.”

Friend: “Did he perchance tell you it was a gay bar?”

Young Man #1: “Uh, no… But like, bi girls, that’s gay, right?” *Turns to me.* “Are you bi?”

Me: “Sorry, Aro/Ace, just here for my friends.”

Young Man #2: “Yeah, like, there are bi girls here, right?

Bar Friend: “Sorry, boys, but we normally just get gay guys. You might want to try [Other Bar] a few blocks down.”

Young Man #1: “So… no bi girls?”

Bar Friend: “Not tonight. Sorry.”

Young Man #2: *To me.* “And you’re definitely airy-aze or whatever?”

Me: “Last I checked.”

Young Man #1: “Oh. Uh. I guess we’ll try [Other Bar], then.” *Looking hopefully around like we might be hiding the bi girls under a table or something.*

Young Man #2: “No offense, man, we just got our tax returns and were gonna hit it big with the ladies. Y’know what I mean.”

Friend: “Yep. Sorry, just us gay guys here. And her.”

Me: “And me.” *Waves.*

Young Man #1: “But like, if any bi girls come in, will you send them to [Other Bar]? Tell them we’re buying drinks.”

Bar Friend: “Sure, guys, sure.”

Young Man #2: “Cool. Uh, bye… I guess.”

And out they wandered, confused, but with their hearts in the right place.

Back when Pokémon Go was really in swing, I made friends with another player whose job brought him to the mall most days. One day, he comes into my store, and I excitedly challenge him to a Pokémon battle.

My coworker knows nothing about Pokémon OR my mall friend. So, what SHE sees is me leaping to my feet and yelling at a uniformed police officer:

Me: “FIGHT ME!”

Related:
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 45
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 44
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 43
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 42
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 41