Readin’, Ritin’, And Retrievin’

| San Diego, CA, USA | Uncategorized

Me: “Good morning, you have reached [high school]. How can I help you?”

Parent: “My son left his cell phone at the convenience store three blocks over. Can you go get it?”

Makeup Quiz For A Madeup Flu

| Atlanta, GA, USA | Family & Kids, Health & Body, School

(A student who has missed class and calls me a day later to explain her absence.)

Student: “I need to take the quiz I missed yesterday.”

Me: “Remember, quizzes cannot be made up.”

Student: “I missed class yesterday because my son is sick.”

Little voice in the background: “Momma, I’m sick?”

A Whole New Grade Of Stupidity

| Atlanta, GA, USA | Uncategorized

(An online math student is calling to complain about her grade. Her assignment was submitted three days late.)

Me: “The assignment was late by three days. The 30% late penalty cost you 18 points.”

Caller: “But it’s not right. 30% of 60 is not 18.”

Me: “Yes, it is. Think of it as three times six.”

Caller: *counting in a low voice* “Yeah, I guess it is. But the late penalty shouldn’t apply to me.”

Me: “Why is that?”

Caller: “Because I submitted the assignment BEFORE you graded it.”

Apparently Bad Parenting, Part 2

| Houston, TX, USA | Uncategorized

Customer: “I need to pick up my daughter. She’s in the eighth grade.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. The eighth graders are testing right now and they’ve only been testing for about forty five minutes. I don’t think she’s done.”

Customer: “But we have a plane to catch!”

Me: “Well, why didn’t you just not send her to school? I mean, what time is your flight?”

Customer: “8:45!”

Me: “Ma’am, that was thirty minutes ago. I don’t think you’re making it anyways.”

Customer: “But it’s central time zone!”

Me: “We’re in the central time zone, ma’am.”

Customer: “Don’t correct me! I don’t care if she fails. I just don’t want to lose my dignity!”

Related:
Apparently Bad Parenting

Not Just For Kicks

| New York, USA | Uncategorized

(I am an instructor at a Chinese Martial Arts school. An American teenager comes in.)

Boy: “So, do you teach all kinds of Chinese martial arts here?”

Me: “Yes, courses are mainly in Chinese, but we can translate for you. There are quite a few Americans that learn here. What are you interested in?”

(He names several fake martial arts from novels made into television.)

Me: “Um… you’re joking, right?”

Boy: “Oh, do you not teach those?”

Me: “You’re serious?”

Boy: “Oh yeah, I love watching them on TV and I want to learn it myself!”

Me: “You know they’re not real martial arts right? It’s all made up in the stories.”

Boy: “You just don’t want to teach a foreigner, do you?”

Me: “No, it isn’t real. None of us here know them.”

Boy: “Oh, I’ll go somewhere else.”

Me: “No one can teach those. They’re fake.”

Boy: “Oh I get it. You think it’s fake because you don’t know it yourself. I guess the manuals are lost and someone needs to find them. Don’t worry, I’ll be that person!”

(The boy leaves and comes back a minute later.)

Boy: “Hey, could I have a look at all your weapons?”

Me: “Why?”

Boy: “Maybe the manuals are hidden in them. At least please show me your swords and sabers. Just clash them together.” (He’s referring to a plot in one of those novels.)

Me: *understanding that reference* “It was already recovered long ago in the Yuan dynasty, remember? They’re empty now.”

Boy: “Oh, sure, now I’m going to find the new hiding place. Thanks for your time!”

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