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The Very Model Of A Modern Major Idiot

, , , , | Friendly | September 18, 2021

Back in the days before the Internet, I used to hang around at a modelling club. People building scale models would meet, bring their builds, share tools, give and receive feedback, and the like. People who take the hobby TOO seriously can be very particular about the exact shade and hue of camouflage, resorting to complex quasi-alchemical mixtures for obtaining the “right” colour.

During one of those meets, I heard this exchange.

Modeller #1: “What a nice build. Is it in a desert scheme?”

Modeller #2: *Taken aback* “Of course it’s not; it’s in the green and brown scheme, as you can see.”

Modeller #1: “Eh, I can’t really see that. I’m colourblind.”

Modeller #2: “You’re pulling my leg.”

Modeller #1: “Why would I?”

Modeller #2: “But… But… But… It’s impossible. How can you be sure you’re not painting your tanks fuchsia?”

Modeller #1: “Well, I have this thing to help me.”

[Modeller #2] leans forward as if to be the only one receiving a secret

Modeller #2: “You do, eh? What is it, eh?”

Modeller #1: “I read the number on the bloody pot, you dolt!

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We’ll Find Harmony And Balance After You Leave

, , , | Right | September 18, 2021

A while ago, we were trying to sell our home. I was working at home at that point, so I would go out when the agent had a viewing and come back afterward. Despite a lot of time wasters, things were going okay. A few low offers and plenty of interest.

The weirdest thing was that after one viewing, I started to notice that things were out of place. Knives were facing different ways, picture frames and candles were swapped around, and a small standing mirror was moved.

I thought it might have been the estate agent, maybe tidying up, although it didn’t look any better and he never did it before any of the other viewings. But it wasn’t a big deal and was easily fixed, so I never thought of it again.

A while later, there was a knock on the door. I answered it to find a middle-aged woman.

Woman: “Oh, hello. I am following up about the card I put through your door.”

Me: “I’m sorry, remind me what it was. I might have missed it.”

Woman: *Huffy already* “It was a card — a small yellow card about feng shui.”

I seem to recall throwing that straight into the bin.

Me: “Oh, yes, I recall. How is it I can help?”

Woman: “I came round the other week and noticed that your whole house was wrong. The energy was all wrong. It’s probably why it hasn’t sold.”

It took me a while to connect the dots.

Me: “Oh, you are interested in buying the house?”

Woman: “What? No! I’m a professional feng shui consultant. I help people to achieve harmony and balance.”

Me: “No, thank you.”

I shut the door as she was still arguing that I would “never sell the house,” and I let the estate agent know not to let her come round again.

A few weeks later, he told me that he had to ban her, as after I complained it made sense.  She was asking to view pretty much every house nearby, never made an offer, and never viewed a house twice, and her budget seemed to change weekly.

He let the other estate agents know to ban her, as well. It’s one thing to put the card through the door — completely another to waste everyone’s time!

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Check Cabling But Also Check What You’re Saying!

, , , | Right | September 18, 2021

I work tech support for a major ISP. A customer calls because her TV set-top box won’t start up; the message is “check cabling”. Throughout the process, I have to shout to get her attention because she is chatting with roommates. Apparently, they are med students.

Customer: “[Lots of medical information about a patient].”

Me: “Ma’am, what is the TV doing?”

Customer: “[Lots of medical information about a patient].”

Me: “Ma’am, what is the TV doing?”

Customer: *As if I’m being a nuisance* “Still starting.”

Customer: “[Lots of medical information about a patient].”

Me: “Ma’am, what is the TV doing?”

The customer continues violating every privacy law on the books and probably necessitating a few new ones.

Me: “Is the TV starting?”

Customer: *Suddenly very surprised* “It works! What was the problem?”

Me: “When it said, ‘check cabling’… the cable was loose. Have a nice day, ma’am.”

If I ever need a doctor in that city, I think I’ll just die.

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General Manager, General A**hole

, , , , | Working | September 17, 2021

I show up to my fast food franchise for an afternoon shift and find we are already knee-deep in OMG-ville. The lineup is huge, with lots of students and various other downtownies. I clock in five minutes early, wash my hands, and take stock of garnish.

We are almost out of tomatoes, low on lettuce, low on onions. I run to the back fridge where all the toppings are kept, only to see that things are so hectic that there are no backup bowls of garnishes prepared!

As quickly as I can, I make a bunch of bowls of lettuce and onions and bring those up front along with tomatoes and put away the extra bowls.

General Manager: “[My Name], you need to work faster! You were too slow getting up here with three bowls of stuff.” 

I try to explain that I was actually filling three or four bowls quickly so we’d have more when we ran out — every thirty minutes or so — but she just scoffs, turns her back on me, and barks at me to get to the cash. 

Roughly five minutes later, she literally starts screaming at me — IN FRONT OF CUSTOMERS — to get off the registers and get back to garnish. At this point, I have had enough and I admit, I snap.

Me: “[General Manager], I am sick and tired of being constantly belittled and badgered about every little thing. I’m doing my best to help my coworkers out and you screaming at me isn’t making things better.”

General Manager: “You don’t seem to value your job. I can easily fire you and find someone to replace you quickly.”

I guess she expects me to roll over and grovel for my job. That doesn’t happen.

I look her dead in the eye without even flinching. I am admittedly on new-employee probation, but my probation has been nothing but verbal abuse from her. This is still in front of all the customers and ALL my coworkers.

Me: “I can walk right out of this place right now and leave you deep in the weeds. The threat you made about my being under probation and how you can get rid of me at any time goes two f****** ways! I can quit without notice, too!”

She grabs me by the elbow. Yes, you read that right: she GRABS me. I’m not sure what she thinks this will do, but the one thing it does NOT do is deescalate the situation.

I shrug off her hand once and tell her not to touch me, but she grabs me again. I shrug her off again.

Me: “If you touch me one more time, I will charge you with assault. I do not want you to touch me, and you have no right to touch me. I have multiple witnesses, so kindly back the f*** off of me.”

She abruptly left me alone and was very cheery and kind to me, but I typed up my resignation that night and handed it to her the next day.

She got a hilariously panicked look on her face. Apparently, having her bluff called made her realize exactly how dire her straits were. She tried all sorts of tactics to make me stay, like telling me how I was leaving my coworkers in the lurch and how hard it would be for me to find another job, and when that didn’t work, she practically begged me to at least give her two weeks.

I told her to take the job and shove it. It wasn’t worth my self-respect.

Because we were chronically understaffed as it was, the look of sheer despair on her face as I walked out gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. The fuzzy feeling got even warmer after I made a phone call to her higher-ups, with some very specific details. I never did see her at that franchise again.

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They’re Going To Need An Extra-Strong Raktajino

, , , , , | Right | September 17, 2021

I work in a coffee shop in a convention center, and a Star Trek convention is going down. Since I am a fan of the show, my manager has given me permission to work my shift as a Vulcan from the show. I have the hair, the uniform, and most importantly, the ears.

I’ve been serving fans all day and they’re all getting a kick out of it, until one guy comes up in a classic Captain Kirk uniform and seems unimpressed with my getup. I should note that I am Asian.

Customer: “You trying to be a Vulcan?”

Me: “Yes, sir! It was the logical thing to do today!”

Customer: “You can’t be a Vulcan!”

Me: “I think I pull it off pretty well, sir.”

Customer: “But there ain’t no China on Vulcan!”

Ah, I see. Simple racism. I know how to deal with this.

Me: “That’s right, sir. There is no China on Vulcan. There’s no Europe, either.”

The customer opens his mouth to counter my point but then realizes the ridiculousness of arguing over what the default race should be coming from a fictional alien planet. After stuttering a moment:

Customer: “There ain’t no China on Vulcan!”

He stormed off. I wish he left that kind of bigotry in his quarters; there’s no room for it on my bridge.

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