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You Can Lead A Boss To Water

| Sydney, Australia | Working | October 19, 2012

(A couple of regulars comes into our cafe and sits at table nine. While taking another order, I clearly hear them ordering two flat whites. After coming back from taking my other order, I see my boss pointing at the flat whites.)

Me: “Oh, two flat whites? I’ll take them to table nine.”

Boss: “NO! No, no no! Stop jumping ahead! I will tell you where to take them!”

Me: “But I saw them come in and I heard them order. They’re right over there on table nine.”

Boss: “Stop jumping ahead! I’ll find them!”

(She proceeds to search the tables for two minutes while swearing under her breath. I patiently wait, knowing what’s coming.)

Boss: “…You take those to table nine!”

Best Way To Toast Sexism, Bar None

| USA | Working | October 19, 2012

(We’ve just hired a new bartender, and he’s on a training shift with me. About an hour into his shift, I notice something a little odd: he is completely ignoring any requests from female customers as if they aren’t even there and is only serving male customers. On this night, my neighbor is at the bar as she is giving me a ride home while my car is in the shop.)

My Neighbor: *to the new bartender* “Hi there. Can I get—”

(The new bartender makes a shooing motion with his hand at my neighbor and speaks to the male customer next to her.)

New Bartender: “What can I get you sir?”

(The male customer looks at her, then at the new bartender.)

Male Customer: “Actually, I think the lady was here first.”

New Bartender: “Well, I don’t take orders from women. Women have no right to speak in the presence of a man, and they should learn their place, not be out in bars. This is a man’s land.”

Male Customer: *shocked* “Um… I think I’ll wait for the other bartender.”

My Neighbor: “Hi, excuse me—”

New Bartender: “Silence, filth! You can’t talk to me!”

My Neighbor: “Actually, I can. And since you work here and it’s illegal for you to refuse service based on prejudice, you can either get me what I tell you to get me, or I can come and talk to [owner’s name] tomorrow night. Either way, you put your own nuts in the vice here, sweet pea.”

New Bartender: *turns paper white* “You know [owner’s name]?”

My Neighbor: “Yeah. And I might just come in and talk to him anyway since you apparently think it appropriate to be such a misogynistic heap of uselessness.”

Me: “Hey, [neighbor’s name]!” *I hug her* “I’m running a little late. We’re waiting for the closer to come in. She’s going to show him what the procedures are.”

New Bartender: *to me* “You know her?!

Me: “This is my neighbor. The one I told you was stopping by to give me a ride since my car was in the shop?”

(The new bartender knows he’s really screwed at this point, and tries buttering up my neighbor.)

New Bartender: *to my neighbor* “Hey, I’m… I’m r-really s-sorry, you… you ain’t gonna s-screw me with the owner are you?”

My Neighbor: *sips her drink* “Don’t hold your breath, sweet pea.”

(Knowing how hard the job market is, my neighbor actually DIDN’T file a complaint with the owner. However, ever since then, not only has the new bartender had no problem serving any customer who comes in no matter what gender they are, but he’s very polite about it. He told me the next day that even if my neighbor is not a physically intimidating person, she scared the crap out of him!)

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Just Because You’re Lazy

| Working | October 19, 2012


Via.

That’s What Makes Dad Dutiful

| Windsor, ON, Canada | Related | October 19, 2012

(I wake up one morning to my 7-year-old son sitting at the top of the stairs, with his head in his hands crying.)

Me: “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Son: *sobs* “Daddy likes One Direction. I’m going to bed.”

Language Leakage

| ID, USA | Related | October 19, 2012

(I’m hanging out at my sister’s house. I observe from the couch as my sister walks into the room.)

Sister: *to her husband* “Did you put [2-year-old daughter] to sleep?”

Sister’s Husband: “Yes.”

Sister: “Did you check her diaper before?”

Sister’s Husband:*pause* “No.”

(She sighs and walks into her daughter’s room. She walks back in carrying her, and glares at her husband. She points to a stain on the girls PJs.)

Sister: “Good work. She freakin’ leaked!”

Daughter: *in imitation anger* “I freakin’ leaked!”

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