Unfiltered Story #312490
(My coworker and I are both young adults, about 2 years apart in age. Because of this and having worked together for about 5 months now (longer than most of the other servers/kitchen staff) we’re pretty friendly inside and outside of work. These are some of my favorite interactions we’ve had as of late.)
(Driving home, I noticed a car behind me all the way out of the parking lot and onto the road)
Me: *having just arrived home and texting my coworker* ISTG. There was a car right behind me all the way through the parking lot I cut through. I cut someone off trying to pull away from it.
Coworker: Miss girl, that was me. I cut through that parking lot too.
Me: That…would explain it. I feel dumb now.
(I’m scraping off dishes in the kitchen. It’s worth noting that our special of the day had a side of peas)
Me: *finishes cleaning my plates and turns to walk back out of the kitchen*
(My coworker is standing there with plates of her own and a sh*t eating grin on her face, apparently waiting for me to turn around)
Coworker: *tips plate so that peas spill onto the floor*
(I must have looked at her like she was nuts, because she somehow gets an even bigger grin on her face)
Coworker: I peed on the floor!
(I pause for a second)
Coworker *apparently thinking I missed the joke* I pe-
Me: *cutting her off* Oh my GOD, [Coworker]!
(I try to stalk out of the room and promptly almost slip on the peas.)
(I’m complaining about the restrictions my workplace has due to me being underage)
Me:…and it’s totally not fair! [Coworker] is allowed to use the knives, and she’s the one of us who’s managed to cut herself.
Coworker: *turns around from what she was doing* Huh? What about me?
Me: You’re allowed to cut things, and I still remember the time you sliced your whole friggin’ thumb open.
Coworker: *thinks for a moment* [My Name], I was cutting the fruit.
Me: *indignantly* No, you weren’t! You were cutting your-
Coworker: No, no, [My Name]. I was cutting the fruit.
Me: *realizing what she’s saying* Oh, get OUT of here.
(She and I are both queer.)
(Our dessert special is cobbler. Because of this, a lot of people are asking for vanilla ice cream scooped on top.)
Me: *minding my own business at the freezer, scooping ice cream onto the cobblers I’m about to take out*
Coworker: *appears out of nowhere, smiling sweetly*
Me: *suspiciously* What?
Coworker: *holds another bowl of cobbler out to me*
Me: *grumbling* Go away. *reaches out to grab the bowl from her*
(I may or may not submit a second round of stories, because I didn’t have room for my personal favorite- her impromptu impression of the Kool-Aid man. We’ll see!)
