Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

The best of our most recent stories!

Too Much Mansplaining, Not Enough Moving

, , , , , , , | Working | November 30, 2022

I have some large pieces of furniture in my home that I need to have moved within the home. Most moving companies still charge for the use of their trucks even if you don’t use them, so I decide to try out one of those apps where you can hire people to complete tasks for you. I schedule the move for 10:00 am and request two movers. Immediately, I receive an email confirming this.

However, the morning of the move, I get a text confirming for 11:00 am. The text also gives the number of one of the movers, so I call him to get clarity on what time they are arriving.

Me: “Good morning. I just got a text saying that you’ll be arriving at 11:00 am, but the email says you’ll be arriving at 10:00. I just wanted to know which time is correct.”

Mover: “Yes, I can answer that for you. You see, we are independent contractors and do not work directly for [App]. Now, what does that mean? That means that we set our own schedules and we tell the company when we are available to work.”

He continues with a very lengthy explanation of the business model. I won’t bore you with it the same way he bored me.

Me: “Okay, but I just want to know if you’re coming at 10:00 or 11:00.”

Mover: “Well, I’m now at a job in [Other Neighborhood], and when I’m done here, I’ll be heading out to you. [Mover #2] will be arriving separately in his own vehicle, because we don’t travel together for business purposes. In fact, he has a different job in [Yet Another Neighborhood] before yours. Now, you understand that the times are approximate based on when the previous job ends, and then on traffic.”

He also explains which streets each of them will be using and the likelihood of heavy traffic at the time they’ll be traveling.

Mover: “So, we’ll try our best to get to you on time, but we’ll let you know of any delays.”

Me: “But all I want to know is what time ‘on time’ is. Ten? Or eleven?”

Then, he started talking about how the app doesn’t necessarily know how long the previous job will take or some such nonsense. By this time, I had tuned out and just wanted to get off the phone. I don’t even remember if I ever got an answer, but I just chose to be prepared for either time. 

Then, I received a text from this same delightful gentleman. He thanked me for contacting him and then explained that the reason why I had a question about the time was that I had been given two different ones! He still did not tell me which one was accurate.

The next text I received was from the company, cancelling my appointment because neither mover would be finished with his previous job in time to get to my appointment. However, they very generously would not be charging me the cancellation fee. 

I deleted the app.

Welcome To The World; It Often Sucks

, , , , , | Working | November 30, 2022

While I was in college, I worked the closing shifts at a nearby sandwich place to earn a little extra scratch.

About an hour into my shift, my coworker, a high school student, answers the phone. No big deal — we take phone orders, so I figure there is nothing out of the ordinary.

Then, my coworker starts getting agitated before hanging up the receiver with a haunted look on his face.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Coworker: “That was the Social Security Office. They said that for failing to comply with their directives, they are going to be contacting the Federal Authorities for an investigation.”

Yeah, right. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.

The kid was distraught, so I took him aside and told him the facts of life — namely, that no government employee is working past six on a Friday, and that Social Security will NEVER, EVER cold call you.

We spent a little bit talking about a few near-misses of me being scammed, and he felt a lot better about it after that.

“Trust Your Gut” Has Never Been So Literal

, , , , | Healthy | November 30, 2022

My mom is a tough cookie with an incredibly high pain tolerance. She’s not one to complain about feeling ill unless it’s really bad. I get up one morning to find she’s not at home. I don’t give much thought to it, thinking she’s running an errand, until she calls me.

Mom: “I’m at the doctor’s. I need you to pick me up and take me to the hospital.”

Trying not to panic, I rush over to our local doctor in my car. When I go in, my mom is lying in their small clinic room, pale, sweating, and vomiting. The doctor explains that she came in complaining of severe abdominal cramps. The doctor offers to call ahead to the hospital so that we don’t have to wait in triage. I get my mom into my car and rush her to the hospital. In my (albeit non-expert) opinion, it sounds like her appendix is about to burst.

I rush into the ER and get them to bring mom in using a wheelchair. She’s getting worse by the minute, and I’m trying not to panic as I fill in her details. I call my dad, but he’s at least two hours away for work. Mom gets seen in triage and admitted.

Once we’re in her room, we’re told we need to wait for the doctor. Mom is still vomiting and in agony. The nurses refuse to give her anything without the doctor.

An hour goes by. Two. Three.

I’m frantic. I know that this is an absolute medical emergency, and there is no urgency being shown. The nurses brush me off when I tell them they need to get a doctor immediately.

Eventually, the doctor arrives, giving some bulls*** excuse. My mother is still dry heaving in pain, so I fill him in and say that I think she has appendicitis. He looks at her with little interest and asks if she ate anything weird. (No, we all ate the same things.)

Doctor: “Could it be an ectopic pregnancy?”

Me: “For God’s sake, she’s menopausal and had a hysterectomy two years ago, which is on her d*** chart! It’s her freaking appendix!”

Mom: “Doc, I’ve had two kids, and this is worse than the pain I felt during labour.”

Doctor: “Hmm… I think you may be being a bit dramatic. I’ll give you something for the vomiting and send you for a scan.”

He leaves. Thirty minutes later, the nurse administers the nausea medication, which has no effect, but at least Mom’s given fluids.

It’s another hour-long wait before they’re ready to do the scan and another forty-five minutes for the results. Mom’s pain is worse when the doctor comes back.

Doctor: “I don’t see anything suspicious on the scan, but seeing how much pain you’re in, I think we’ll have to operate and see what’s going on.”

They prep Mom for surgery and wheel her off. At this point, I collapse with worry. My dad has since arrived, so he and I go home, waiting for the hospital to tell us she’s out of surgery. By 7:00 pm, we get called back.

Mom has done a total 180; her colour is back, the vomiting has stopped, and she’s feeling relief despite having just had major abdominal surgery.

Me: “What was wrong?!”

Mom: “The doctor hasn’t told me yet. Guess we’ll find out.”

The doctor walks in about forty-five minutes later, looking sheepish, to say the least.

Doctor: “Ma’am, it turns out you weren’t overreacting. Your appendix managed to twist itself and had become gangrenous. You literally had a gangrenous bowel. There’s nothing more painful. I’ve never seen anything like it. We actually took pictures to show our colleagues.”

My mom was less than impressed with the doctor who had brushed us off. She was back home the next day. Trust your gut, people.

We’ll Be Sure To Get There Late Next Time

, , , , | Right | November 30, 2022

I work at a pizza place. It’s a super busy Saturday night, but we are holding our own. A delivery comes up, so I run it out.

I get to the woman’s house about twenty-five minutes after she ordered, and she is UPSET!

Customer: “I was quoted forty-five minutes for delivery!”

Me: “That’s the approximate window.”

Customer: “You’ve ruined my evening! I planned for forty-five minutes!”

She’s all mad at me, and she goes on and on. I’m standing in the rain and snow while she’s complaining. Finally, I cut her off.

Me: “Ma’am, if you’re unhappy, call the store and tell the general manager.”

Customer: “Fine. But I’m not about to tip you when you can’t control your service!”

And she slammed the door in my face.

Thanks, you old hag. Next time, I’ll forget to close the bag flap so you can have cold early pizza.

They Can’t Fix It, Even If You Have The Coin

, , , | Right | November 30, 2022

A lady comes in with her pre-teen son.

Customer: “I bought my PC about a year ago, and my son plays games on it. Recently, it has been starting to smell like a burning metal. It’s gotten significantly heavier since we purchased it. Can you look at it?”

Me: “Absolutely. Come back in at about three or so.”

I open up the PC. As soon as I open it up, quarters and loonies (dollar coins) fall out of the computer. About a hundred coins fall out of the computer.

Also, the computer warranty is now voided because they did some… “shell modifications”, but we’ll get back to that in a second.

The customer comes back.

Customer: “Is it ready?”

I explain the situation. I also explain that the shell modifications (some holes have been cut into the shell) void their warranty.

Customer: “My son plays some free games all the time on our computer. It says to insert coins for extended play, so we did. After about a week, we got the same message, so we figured the coins weren’t getting to the game people.”

I’m guessing they tried a free trial of a game and the trial ended.

Customer: “So, my husband cut out the slots at the top of the computer so that they can be transferred.”

At this point, I want to facepalm so badly.

Me: “Ma’am, these ‘coins’ are virtual. You can’t insert real coins into the computer; that can damage the system.”

I told her she needed to purchase a new GPU/CPU/board because the coins jammed the fans and caused everything to melt. It sounded like an engine revving when you turned it on.