My husband and I left our kids with our regular babysitter so we could have a date. When we came back, we asked how the kids had been.

Babysitter: “[Son] is so good with [Daughter] that I figured I’d teach him how to babysit her. He’s really good at it. Want to see?”

Me: “Sure, [Son], let’s see.”

[Babysitter] laid our daughter down on the couch, then our son came over and literally sat on top of her. He was careful not to apply his full weight, though, and [Daughter] giggled along as he wiggled around on top of her.

Babysitter: “See, he’s a natural babysitter! I taught him how to change her, too. Here [Son], can you change her?”

[Babysitter] handed toy cat ears to [son], who placed them on our daughter. He then tries to cover her with her blanket before pulling it off again like a magic trick.

Son: “She a cat!”

Babysitter: “You forgot poof! You can’t change someone into an animal without saying poof, it’s a rule!”

Son: “Oof. A cat!”

Babysitter: “There you go, perfect! He insists he’s already fed her a bottle, so now all we need to do is teach him how to put her down for a nap, and I’ll be out of a job.”

Yeah, our babysitter is a bit odd at times, but [Son] loves her and refuses to let anyone else babysit him, so I guess we’re stuck with the insanity.

A Christian man is harassing me online, trying to push Christianity on me.

Christian Man: “Look, I can prove that you actually do believe in your own immortal soul.”

Me: “And how are you going to do that?”

Christian Man: “Sell me your soul.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Christian Man: “Come on, why would you care if you really, truly, don’t believe in it?”

Me: “And how would you do this? I don’t want to give my address out to a complete weirdo stranger on the Internet to come collect it.”

Christian Man: “How about a declaration here and now that you hereby sell me your soul, real or imagined, in exchange for $20 to the humanist charity of your choice. At which point, I will make that donation in your name and provide the electronic receipt to this chat. I’ll consider that binding enough until I can set up a website for other sales. Does that work?”

Me: “Sure, no problem. So, you’re going to show me proof that you sent it to the charity of my choice?”

Christian Man: “I sure will! What’s the charity?”

Me: *Sends the link to the Satanic Temple website.* “Send it there, please.”

He promptly blocked me.

I’m not surprised that he wimped out (or indeed that he was probably lying all along), but I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t follow through with it. It would have been fun to say that I got a Christian to donate to The Satanic Temple of his own free will!

I’m dropping off my car to get new tires at a shop that was recommended to me by my mechanic. I noticed a sign taped on one of the computer monitors at reception.

Sign: “We can’t work on your car if it’s not in our possession.”

I considered asking about it, but having spent many years working in retail, I decided against it.

CONTENT WARNING: Death

I’m a cashier in a small second-hand bookstore. I’m behind the register talking with a regular customer while an older gentleman is browsing an aisle nearby. I have the radio playing when “Man, I feel like a woman” by Shania Twain comes on.

Older Gentleman: *At the top of his voice.* “I’m goin’ out tonight, I feel alrigh’.”

He then sings the whole song word for word and even includes some pretty impressive dance moves that I, someone in her early thirties, would have trouble with while the regular and I watch with awe and admiration.

Older Gentleman: *After the song ends.* “Sorry about that. That was my wife’s favourite song. I haven’t heard it since she passed away almost a year ago.”

Me: “That was amazing! Please don’t be sorry.”

The regular and I ended up talking with the gentleman and finding out both his wife and he were music teachers and loved all types of music from classical artists up to One Direction and everything in between. He had recently moved into a nearby retirement home and was hoping to find somewhere nearby that could teach him the basics of computers so he could listen to music again.

I ended up having to assist another customer, but the gentleman and regular ended up sitting down together, helping him find a free class aimed at helping people with basic computer skills.

For the next two years, the gentleman would come in a couple of times a week and always knew the songs played on the radio, even the newer stuff, thanks to free classes.

Unfortunately, I just found out he passed away peacefully in his sleep last night. I hope he’s now singing and dancing with his wife again.

I go to a diner that serves some pretty good food. As I’m talking to the waitress serving at the counter/bar, I spot a sign on the wall.

Me: “Ouch.”

Waitress: “You okay?”

Me: “That sign sounds like it comes from a few painful experiences.”

She turns around to see the sign I am looking at:

Sign: “The filet mignon is steak, not fish. You’re thinking of the Filet-O-Fish.”

Waitress: “Oh, haha. Yeah. The boss lets us put up a sign if the same mistakes keep getting made. This complaint came from the same customer three times. He ordered it three times, expecting a McDonald’s fish burger.”

Me: “Yup, painful experiences. I was right.”

We laugh, and I order my food.

I come back a couple of weeks later, and there are now two signs:

New Sign: “The calamari steak strips are not beef steak.”

I say “ouch” again.

Waitress: “Oh yeah. New sign. Same guy.”