Their Complaints Are As Fake As Plastic

, , , , | Right | July 3, 2020

Some time ago, the UK switched its £5 and £10 notes from paper to plastic. Most people are indifferent to the change, but some are very vocal about how much they hate the new plastic notes. I get at least three customers a day complaining about them, but this one stands out.

Customer: “I f****** hate these new plastic notes.”

The note in question was a £20 note. Still paper.

If You’re Going To Be An Idiot, Be A Loved Idiot

, , , , , , | Working | July 3, 2020

I am fortunate enough to work with talented, fun, hard-working people I consider friends, but like all friends, some of them drive me a little insane. One of the worst is a guy who never listens to anything.

Coworker: “This program is a pain. How am I even supposed to [do a thing]?”

Me: “That’s weird. The tutorial covers that. Did it not display for you?”

Coworker: “I just clicked through it.”

Me: “Okay… Well, hit ‘enter’ to go to the menu.”

Coworker: *Sounding annoyed* “But how do I go to the menu?”

Me: *Pause* “Hit ‘enter.’”

Later, in an email:

Me: “Hey, [Coworker]! I’m working on a promo with [Client], just so you know. I’m going to rope in [Artist] to do the images for it.”

Coworker: “Have you thought about using [Exact Same Artist I Just Mentioned]?”

Me: “That was the second sentence of that email.”

Coworker: “Oh, well, I didn’t read that far.”

Even later-er:

Coworker: “Hey, what are we doing for our launch today?”

I email him a list of items.

Coworker: “But what about [very first item on the list, I’m not even kidding]?”

Me: “You’re lucky you’re my friend.”

He’s a great coworker and friend except for this, and it wouldn’t be an issue if it didn’t happen all the time, and if he wasn’t such a butt when the same thing happened to him.

Me: “I gave [Other Coworker] your new phone number.”

Coworker: “I gave it to him yesterday! I even wrote it down.”

Me: “I know; he couldn’t find the paper when he went to add you to his contacts.”

Coworker: “Ugh, I hate repeating myself! People need to pay more attention to the details.”

Sigh. Love you, buddy.

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Strike A Violent Pose; Maybe They’ll Leave You Alone

, , , , , , | Related | July 3, 2020

My siblings are having a massive pool party with their friends. I’m in the pool, too, just barely managing to stay out of the line of fire. They’re roughhousing, pushing each other in the pool, being rough with the dog, and throwing his toy in the pool so he’ll jump in, and my sister and her boyfriend are openly flirting. 

Mom: “Okay, I’m going inside. Keep an eye on things, [My Name]!”

Me: “Wait, you’re leaving me in charge?!”

Mom: “Yep.”

Me: “Teenagers scare me!”

Mom: “They scare me, too!”

After she left, one kid started running around the pool with a tomahawk, and my brother was chasing him with a hunting knife. Later, my mom admitted she was worried about the pool toys being destroyed. 

Cue My Chemical Romance’s “Teenagers”!

Her Cognitive Thought Is On Break

, , , , | Right | July 3, 2020

I am a customer in this story. The cashier is going on break after helping me and has turned her light off. She is almost done with my order when another customer puts their five items down. There are self-service registers designed for smaller orders and several are open. The cashier notices the second customer.

Cashier: “Oh, I’m sorry. My lane is closed.”

Second Customer: “What?”

Cashier: “I’m going on break.”

Second Customer: *Staring blankly* “What?”

Cashier: “My lane is closed and I’m going on break.”

Second Customer: *Looks at me* “But you’re helping her.”

Cashier: “Right, because my lane was open when she joined, but now I am closed.”

The customer looks at me and then at the cashier, clearly expecting something.

Second Customer: “But you are helping her.”

I can tell the cashier internally throws up her hands.

Cashier: “Okay, it’s fine. I can help you.”

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The Steaks Are High!

, , , , | Working | July 3, 2020

My older daughter spent the night with my parents and we are meeting at a popular big box store that is well-known for their samples so I can pick her up.

I am less than a week from delivering my second child, but my bump is quite small. I also have no makeup on, have a youngish-looking face, and am wearing a giant shirt that conceals my belly.

Before I get to my parents, I notice one of the sample ladies is handing out filet mignon. I always crave red meat when I’m pregnant, so I’m thinking, “Score, free steak!”

I approach the sample lady, and the following ensues.

Me: “Hello! Could I please try that?”

The sample lady looks at me with suspicion.

Sample Lady: “Um… No.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Um, can I ask why?”

Sample Lady: *Dismissively* “You need a parent’s permission to try samples, and you’re obviously about sixteen.”

I stand there in shock for a minute. Coincidentally, my parents are about five feet away with my toddler at the moment.

Me: “Ma’am, I know you’re just doing your job, but—”

I pull my shirt tight over my belly.

Me: “—I’m nine months pregnant and twenty-seven years old. But, if you need my parent’s permission, there they are, right there.”

Sample Lady: *Embarrassed* “Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry. Here, have two pieces!”

The sample lady and I had a good laugh over it — and so did my husband and parents, once I told them — and I got my free steak. My baby came three days later and we’re all good!

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