Humanity Has Signed Off

, , , | Right | February 16, 2020

(I’ve just been informed that the system we use for having visitors sign in and out is down over the entire country. Fantastic. So, I turn the sign-in computer around so it’s facing me instead of any visitors and I put a large, brightly-colored sign on it that says, “System is down. Please use the paper to your left to sign in and out. Thank you!”)

Visitor #1: *goes right to turning the sign-in computer around*

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but that computer is down right now. Can you sign in on the paper, please?”

Visitor #1: “Oh!” *looks surprised* “Okay…”

Me: *inner facepalm*

Visitor #2: *stares at the sign* “Oh… Can I not use this, then? How do I sign in?”

Me: *indicates the paper and pen right in front of her*

Visitor #2: “Ugh, that’s too complicated.” *proceeds to take five minutes to write her name, the time, and who she’s visiting*

Visitor #3: *reads the sign and proceeds to sign in with the pen and paper* “Well, isn’t this quaint!”

Me: *smiles* “Thanks.”

Visitor #3: “It wasn’t a compliment.” *stomps off*

Me: *faith in humanity gone… again*

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Getting To The Garlic Sauce Of Her Problem

, , , , | Right | February 16, 2020

(I work at an Asian restaurant that has counter service and sauces on a table where patrons can go and serve themselves. We make our own ginger garlic sauce that contains bits of garlic in them that sometimes get stuck in the spout of the squeeze bottle. We usually cut the tip off of the bottles to avoid this problem, but I forget to use the correct lid with the cut-off tip. An adult man whose order I have just served comes over to me holding the bottle, sans lid, with his shirt covered in ginger garlic sauce.)

Me: “Oh, my gosh, sir.” *laughs slightly* “It’s okay! That’s my bad. Sometimes the garlic gets stuck in the lid. I’ll go run and grab you a bunch of napkins!”

(I go and run to the back of the kitchen telling the kitchen staff I may be a minute before I can run orders because there’s a huge mess all over the place. Before I can get to the man and hand him his napkins, an older lady, presumably his mother, stops me.)

Old Lady: “Laughing was not an appropriate reaction to what happened.”

Me: *a bit confused* “Um, okay. Sorry, I just wanted him to know everything was okay and it wasn’t a problem.”

Old Lady: “Well, laughing was not the appropriate thing to say!”

Me: “Okay, but I need to go clean up now, so he’s not just covered in sauce.”

(I basically have to push past her, as we are in a narrow hallway, in order to give her son some napkins and proceed to clean the mess up that is all over the floor and the sauce table.)

Man: “I am so sorry; let me help you. I didn’t mean to make such a mess!”

Me: “No, no worries! I forgot to put the right lid on this sauce, it’s my fault. People tend to squeeze hard and this can happen. Nothing this big, but it’s no big deal!” *smiles, trying my best not to give even a friendly laugh*

Man: *proceeding to help me clean up* “Really, I am so sorry.”

Me: *smiling* “No problem! I’ll go get some extra sauce for you since this one is now out!”

(The whole time, his mother was standing to the side, tsking and shaking her head in disapproval at the situation. She proceeded to ignore me, even though her son was clearly unaffected by it, even when I smiled and walked past her to my counter station.)

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An Absolut Idiot

, , , | Right | February 15, 2020

(I work in a liquor store on a boat that sails between Sweden and Finland. The customer in this story is Swedish.)

Customer: “Do you have Swedish alcohol?”

Me: “Certainly. What are you looking for?”

Customer: “Swedish alcohol.”

Me: “Ah, yes, but what kind of product are you looking for, more specifically? Spirits? Schnapps? Beer?”

Customer: “It has to be Swedish.”

Me: “But—”

Customer: “From Sweden.”

Me: *screaming inwardly* “Let’s go look at our selection…”

(After showing him a range of assorted Swedish brands, I return to my till. Ten minutes later, I see the customer paying for a large bottle of vodka, named after its country of origin — which is not Sweden.)

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Your Fortune: Humiliation

, , , , , , | Right | February 15, 2020

My husband and I were walking down the Las Vegas Strip. We were coming back from a show that was much farther from our hotel than we’d expected, so my feet were killing me and I was completely exhausted. I was just concentrating on putting one blistered foot in front of the other and getting back to the hotel so I could collapse.

The Vegas Strip is home to all sorts of fun and strange discoveries, and outside a shop, we spotted a Zoltar fortune-telling machine that looked like it had come straight out of the movie Big. We stopped to admire it for a moment, and I stepped forward to get a closer look.

The machine suddenly burst into life, moving dramatically and speaking loudly. I emitted some sort of strangled scream, jumped about a foot, and, in my exhausted and startled state, implored the machine, “PLEASE DON’T!”

My husband about fell over laughing at my reaction. When he had almost regained his composure, he noticed a pair of strangers that had passed us. The strangers were also laughing their heads off at me, which my husband was kind enough to point out to me.

Now that I’m far, far away from that stupid machine, I can laugh about the incident, too. And “Please don’t!” has become our reaction any time an object behaves in an unexpected way.

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Step One: Read ALL The Letters In Each Word

, , , , , , | Right | February 15, 2020

My mobile provider had a Cyber Monday sale. The offer was only valid online. I had some questions, so I tried to log in to the chat function. I had two mandatory fields: name and contract number.

I finally figured out my contract number… and the field wouldn’t accept it. Frustrated, I turned to Twitter to get help. It took a couple of minutes, and then I was informed that it was “contact number,” not “contract number.”


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