Unfiltered Story #123741

, , | Unfiltered | October 21, 2018

(I am a delivery guy in a famous Spanish pizza chain. It’s just my second day, and my manager requests that I go pick one of our motorbikes from the garage. At this point, I know where the garage is (it’s a communal car park with part of the lowest level reserved for our bikes), but not how to get in without a vehicle, so I’m looking around for the doorway, lost, with a helmet in my hands, in full, bright red delivery uniform. A married couple with two young girls cross my path, and I assume they live nearby.)
ME: Excuse me, miss, do you know which one of these doors lead to the garage?
LADY: Sorry, I don’t live here-
DAUGHTERS: [in unison, interrupting her] Are you a Formula One pilot?
(The lady’s face turns bright red as the kids keep asking me if I’m a pilot)
LADY: So sorry… You know, kids have a huge imagination…
ME: Don’t worry…
DAUGHTERS: Mommy, is this boy a pilot?
LADY: Yes, sweetie, he is.
DAUGHTERS: Whoa! Cool! Do you know Fernando Alonso?
ME: I… what?
(The lady looks even more embarrassed as she tries to get her daughters to stop bothering me with F1-related questions.)
LADY: I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Bye! [And they all leave]
ME: …what on Earth just happened?

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