All of our stories, starting with the newest!
(I am about nine years old. My mom and dad are helping me to memorize the states. I get through most of the states without an issue.)
Me: “Vagina, Washington, West Vagina…”
Mom: “Yes, very… wait, what?”
Dad: “Say that again. What state was that?”
Me: “West Vagina?”
(My dad is laughing and smiling.)
Dad: “Yeah. Yeah, that’s the one. ‘West Vagina.'”
Mom: “No! Not West Vagina!”
Me: “East Vagina?”
(My cousin is probably the rudest person I’ve ever met. Whenever he’s in town, I beg my parents to let him stay with them so he doesn’t stay at my apartment, because he’s always so rude to my female neighbors. This particular visit, he DOES have to stay at my house, and I’ve recently gotten a new neighbor.)
Cousin: “D***, baby, youse all kinds of ffooiine!”
(My neighbor replies absently as she looks through her mail.)
Neighbor: “Don’t use words you can’t spell, Dear; it’s not cute.”
Cousin: “Hey, b****! You owe me respect; you best be showing it!”
Neighbor: “Do something to earn it.”
(My cousin runs ahead and opens the door he thinks she’s headed to.)
Cousin: “A true gentleman opens the door for a b****, and then slaps her a**!”
Neighbor: “Does that also mean ‘true gentlemen’ have broken wrists?”
Cousin: “You can’t break my wrist; youse a girl!”
(My cousin tries to grope her, and ends up face-first in the carpet in a submission hold.)
Neighbor: “I’m going to give you a little tip: don’t try to grope corrections officers.”
Cousin: “You’re a WHAT?!”
Neighbor: “And I would recommend that you actually learn what being a true gentleman means if you really want people to treat you with respect.”
(She lets him go, and heads back to her apartment. I’ll admit, though, after this my cousin actually did try to be a better person, and was WAY more respectful!)
(I have just started my first food-service job ever at a well known smoothie chain. It is my first closing shift, and I’m working alone with one of the night supervisors. We close at 9:30 pm, and I have been told the closing staff usually leaves around 10:30 pm.)
Night Supervisor: “Okay, I’m going to go in back and count down the tills. You get started on the closing list, and I’ll be out in a while.”
Me: “Okay. This is my first closing shift though…”
Night Supervisor: “You’ll be fine.”
(I get to work like he says, but I am unfamiliar with the tasks, so it takes me a while. I am still working on the list when he finally comes out at 10:30 pm.)
Night Supervisor: “Whoa, what’s going on? We’re way behind.”
Me: “Sorry, but I don’t really know the jobs yet.”
Night Supervisor: “This isn’t good. Let’s hurry and get done.”
(By the time we finish the list, it’s 11 pm. The supervisor approaches me with the sign-in sheet.)
Night Supervisor: “We can’t let them know how late we were here. We have to be out by 10:30 pm at the latest, or we’ll both be in big trouble.”
Me: “What do we do?”
Night Supervisor: “Just mark yourself down as 10:30 pm; it’ll be fine.”
(I’m a little upset by this, but naive enough that I go along with it. A few weeks later, I’m joking with one of the supervisors on the day shift.)
Me: “Yeah, I’m pretty slow at the closing stuff. [Night Supervisor] and I ended up staying until 11 pm the first time I did it, and had to lose the half hour of work so we wouldn’t get in trouble.”
Day Supervisor: “What? You’re not responsible for that. It’s [Night Supervisor]’s job to make sure things get done on time. You wouldn’t have been in trouble at all.”
Me: “Really?”
Day Supervisor: “Yeah, don’t listen to a thing he says about that. He’s the slowest closer anyway.”
(That was the last time I let someone talk me into working for free!)
(I am co-teaching a parent-child swim class for children aged six months to two years. I am 23, and my coworker is 16. During free swim, where the children get to play with toys, I am going from child to child and singing to them by way of rubber duck.)
Me: “Rubber ducky, you’re the one.”
(The child’s mom is grinning and joining in.)
Child’s Mom: “You make bath time lots of fun!”
Coworker: “What’s that from?”
Me: *aghast* “Have you never seen Sesame Street?”
Coworker: “No…”
(I pretend to be in pain, and then I grin at the mom.)
Me: “I still have all the old sing-alongs on VHS.”
(I turn to my coworker.)
Me: “You do know what a VHS is, right?”
Coworker: “Aren’t they like those black box things you play home movies on?”
(Never have I felt so old!)
(My husband is in the army, and we have to break our lease because he has received orders for overseas. When we move out of our apartment, we are told it is in fantastic condition, and we shouldn’t owe them any money. A few months later, we receive a bill from them, stating that we owe them nearly $1000, because they had to paint the walls, replace the carpets, and replace the blinds. After months of fighting with them, and them constantly changing what the charges are for, it goes into collections. I receive a phone call from them while we are overseas.)
Bill Collector: “Hello, I need to speak to Mr. [Name].”
Me: “This is his wife; he’s not available. May I ask what this is regarding?”
Bill Collector: “Yes, [apartment complex] has stated that since you broke your lease, you have to pay this amount.”
Me: “It says it was because of a broken lease? That’s not what my original paperwork says.”
Bill Collector: “Yes, my records state that you and your husband still had nearly a year left on your lease and you broke it.”
Me: “Yes, we broke our lease, because my husband received orders for overseas.”
Bill Collector: “So you admit you broke your lease. That means you owe this amount.”
Me: “No, ma’am, there’s a clause for military. They received a copy of our orders prior to us leaving; therefore if your records state that we owe them because we broke our lease, then we owe nothing.”
Bill Collector: “If you broke your lease, you have to pay.”
Me: “No, we don’t. Military clause.”
Bill Collector: “Well, the orders weren’t for you; they were just for your husband, weren’t they?”
Me: “No, my name was on them too.”
Bill Collector: *sarcastically* “But you didn’t have to go. Only he had to go. You could have stayed in the apartment until the lease was up.”
Me: “Are you kidding me? You’re not getting a dime from us. Don’t bother calling here again.”
(I hung up on her. Eventually, I spoke to someone different at the collection agency, explained the situation, and they dropped the charges completely, without it affecting our credit.)
