A Touchy Subject

| USA | Family & Kids, Rude & Risque

(My partner and I are certified EMTs. We are answering a 911 response for a minor having a seizure.)

Mother: “Oh, thank god! My son is in his room and was violently shaking! I think he had a seizure!”

(At this point my partner goes in to see the teenage son, who is sitting in his bed and is not showing any symptoms of recently having a seizure. I am still getting information from the mother when my partner returns.)

My Partner: *to me* “You can stop getting info.” *to mother* “Ma’am, with all due respect needed, you’re son did not have a seizure, he was umm… well, no easy way to put this, but he was masturbating.”

Mother: “That’s impossible! How dare you accuse my son of such a vile sin! He knows better! He’s a good Christian boy and would never touch himself in such a horrible way! You will transport him to the hospital for proper treatment for his seizure!”

Me: “Ma’am, your son is admitting to my partner what he was doing. He is not showing any symptoms of coming out of an actual seizure. There is no medical condition here for anyone to treat. I don’t think there is a need for him to go to the hospital.”

Mother: “You will take him to the hospital! He needs treatment!”

(After 15 unsuccessful minutes of trying to get the mother to cooperate, it’s obvious she wasn’t going to. We ended up having to transport her son to the ER. Needless to say, he was mortified and was quickly discharged.)

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Their Mind Is Long Overdue

| Maine, USA | Extra Stupid

Me: “Library. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Hello?”

Me: “Hello, this is the library. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Is this [bank]?”

Me: “No, this is [library].”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “This is [library]. I believe you have the wrong number.”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “You have the wrong number.”

Caller: “What number is this?”

Me: “It’s [number].”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “It’s [number].”

Caller: “I know. That’s the number I dialed.”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry, but you either have the wrong number or dialed the wrong number. This is [library] not [bank].”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “This is [library] not [bank]. You have the wrong number.”

Caller: “So then, what’s the right number?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what [bank]’s number is.”

Caller: “Why not?”

Me: “Well, I don’t work at nor do business with that particular bank. I have no reason to need the number.”

Caller: “What?”

Me: “You have the wrong number and I don’t know what the right number is.”

(I hang up, but the phone immediately rings again. I’m pretty sure it’s the same person, so I let it go to voicemail. A few minutes later I check my messages, and, sure enough, there’s a message from the person I had just spoken with.)

Caller: “This is [name] and I’m having issues with my checking account. I called earlier, but the person who answered didn’t know what they were talking about!”

Milk It For All Its Work

| Toronto, ON, Canada | Bizarre, Food & Drink, Top

(A regular walks into the shop, makes his usual order, and pays for it. But instead of waiting at the bar, he pulls out an empty litre plastic bottle. He then pulls out a little funnel and fills the bottle to the brim with our coffee shop’s milk and stands at the bar looking smug until his drink arrives.)

Coworker: “That’s a lot of milk you’ve got there.”

Customer: “I know… I have to make ends meet somehow, with the prices that you charge. That’s like five bucks worth of milk in there.”

Coworker: “Well, sir, the other customers might want some, too.”

Customer: “I’m setting an example. How much do these cost to make? Milk, coffee, energy, wages. Less than I just paid for it. So, according to Marx’s theory of materialist dialectics, you’re extracting surplus value from me, the consumer. I’m just getting back some of what you owe me, and all the other customers should too.”

(At this point, everyone is looking at us, and the manager comes over to intervene.)

Manager: “Sir, our margins are pretty tight and that…” *points at the milk* “…is WAY more than the surplus value. Anyway, I haven’t done the calculation but I’d say most of the surplus value you contribute goes to homeless people and the ones who come in here and make themselves cinnamon milk to drink. You pay according to your ability, and they get according to their need. Yeah?”

Customer: *goes quiet and walks out, leaving his milk on the bar*

Manager: “Don’t try and school me on Marxist theory, a**hole.”

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Sticking It To Sticklers For Stickers

| Ottawa, ON, Canada | At The Checkout, Top

(I’m a supermarket cashier and have 5 minutes left on my shift. I therefore put my “Closed” sign up as I finish with my current customers. However, a customer walks right past the sign and starts putting his items on the belt. Seeing as he only has a few items, I let it slide and serve him.)

Me: “How are you today, sir?”

Customer: “Fine…”

Me: *begins ringing up his items*

Customer: “Hey, my bread is supposed to be 50% off! It rang up full price!”

(The customer shows me the pink “Reduction” sticker our store uses to discount certain items. This sticker was on the bottom of his bread.)

Me: “Oh! No worries, sir. It’s an easy fix! Sorry about that.”

(I proceed to void the bread, hit the “Reduction” key on my register, and then scan the bread again.)

Customer: “How can you be a cashier if you’re going to miss obvious things like that! You shouldn’t be in the customer service industry if you’re going to be friggin’ oblivious! Gah, this is why I hate this store!”

Me: “Sir… I’m only human. Human beings make mistakes and miss things sometimes, just like you missed my closed sign when you walked up to my cash. I, however, didn’t bother calling you out on it. Your total is $11.03.”

Customer: *sheepishly looks at my sign* “…Debit.”

Me: *big smile* “Have a WONDERFUL evening, sir.”

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Drunkenness Can Give Birth To Wordlessness

| California, USA | Family & Kids, Health & Body

(A husband and wife are staying at our hotel because they are visiting the wife’s father, whose own wife is giving birth. One evening, the husband and father-in-law come stumbling into our front office.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Husband: “Quick, I need… um…” *turns to father-in-law* “What’s the word…”

Father-In-Law: *shrugs*

(The husband says the word several times in another language. My coworker hears this and approaches.)

Coworker: *to me* “I got it.”

(My coworker speaks to them in the language they were speaking. She then nods, calls them a taxi, and enters a note on their account for the manager.)

Me: “What was that about?”

Coworker: “Well, you know how he and his wife were here to celebrate with her dad?”

Me: “Yes?”

Coworker: “Yeah, well, since his wife is pregnant and can’t drink, he and his father-in-law were in the hotel bar alone. The father-in-law wanted to tell him he was ordering traditional Irish baby gifts when they got a call that his wife had gone into labor.”

Me: “Oh wow! That’s great! Wait… what was he confused about, then?”

Coworker: “Oh, they were too drunk to remember the English words for ‘hospital’ and ‘taxi’.”

Me: “I’m so glad you weren’t on your lunch break!”

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