Love And Sarcasm: Together They Can Beat Anything

, , , , , | Romantic | September 15, 2019

(My husband gets a new coworker who was supposed to be of higher qualification, but this guy is consistently behind and incomplete on his work, so my husband has to pick up after him. Thankfully, the coworker transfers to another job at a different company — for a while. I get this text from my beloved while we are both at work.)

Husband: “So, that incompetent guy is back. His other job ‘fell through,’ which I’m guessing means he sucked there, too. Now I get to find ways to keep him occupied while I’m busy.”

Me: *texting back* “Sorry, hun. By ‘fell through,’ I’m imagining someone cutting the floor out from under him Looney-Tunes style.”

Husband: “Yeah, but he’s holding the saw.”

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Maybe It Was A Unicorn Frap

, , , , | Romantic | September 12, 2019

(My partner is the only one who drinks coffee, and she only drinks one cup. To avoid waste, we pour the excess into an ice tray and freeze it. She’ll pop these cubes into her hot chocolate. I use the ice trays to make cheap popsicles. Today, she makes the hot chocolate and stirs in the cube.)

Partner: “Blech! Who knew that frozen coffee could go bad?”

Me: “Well, throw it out. Want me to make you a fresh coffee?”

Partner: “I guess so. Yuck. It turned pink.”

Me: “Pink? Like popsicle pink?”

(Very long pause.)

Partner: “We shall never speak of this again.”

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These Days You Have To Fight Packs Of Wild Dogs To Find Your True Love

, , , , , | Romantic | September 9, 2019

(I am having lunch with a colleague and we’ve been talking about our plans for the weekend. I mentioned someone is cooking dinner for me, and my colleague has guessed it’s a date. She’s trying to get information out of me about the person — particularly how we met — and I’m reluctant to share. I’m female and also prone to getting into weird accidents.)

Colleague: “You know, if you made something up, I wouldn’t be this interested.”

Me: “I realise this in hindsight.”

Colleague: “I’m just going to guess.”

Me: *sensing she’s not being entirely serious* “That’s fine.”

Colleague: “Okay. He’s got a criminal record.”

Me: “I don’t think so. Hasn’t come up.”

Colleague: “Darn, okay. Um. He saved you from wild dogs and that’s how you met?”

Me: “Nope.”

Colleague: “He got into a drunk fight with someone and you’re a bit embarrassed about it.”

Me: “Also no.”

Colleague: “You saved him from wild dogs and–”

Me: “Where did wild dogs come from? What do you think I do in my spare time?”

Colleague: “You lead an interesting life.”

Me: “Not that interesting!”

Colleague: “You really don’t want to say? It can’t be that bad, you know.”

(I weigh it up. I really like this colleague and trust her so I decide to go for it)

Me: “If I tell you, promise you’ll keep it to yourself for now?”

Colleague: “Yes, sure.”

Me: “I’m dating a woman.”

Colleague: “That actually was going to be my next guess.”

(In fairness, I’d assumed until meeting that person that I was straight — and am now coming to terms with my identity — so it isn’t that obvious a thing for her to guess. But I do still have one question…)

Me: “Out of interest, assuming you were asking in order of most to least likely, why was fighting wild dogs more likely than me turning out not to be entirely straight?”

Colleague: “I can just really picture that happening to you.”

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Grunts, Love, And Coffee

, , , , , , , , | Romantic | September 6, 2019

(It’s 1997. I’m 20 years old and have recently moved back to my home city after a horrible breakup. I take a job selling electronics at a local mall retailer. During my first week, I keep hearing about this one guy who’s going to handle the bulk of my training. It’s silly, but it’s like I’m hearing bells whenever someone says his name — I just have a feeling about him. I find myself hoping he’s around my age and that he has blue eyes. We’re finally scheduled together on Saturday. I eagerly wait by the register for him to come in. Eventually, an unkempt man who looks like he’s in his 40s walks in. He’s balding and badly dressed, and he is sporting a very wimpy mustache that does nothing for him. My heart sinks when I see his nametag and realize it is the guy I’ve been so looking forward to meeting. So much for romance; he is way too old for me! But hey, I’ve still got to work with this guy, and by all accounts, he is really nice.)

Me: *brightly* “Good morning!”

Guy: *wordless grunt*

(He walks past where I’m standing without even a glance in my direction and turns the TV in our department on to Saturday morning cartoons, ignoring me.)

Me: “…”

(A commercial break eventually comes on and he walks over to me. I’m thinking we’ll finally exchange pleasantries.)

Guy: *in a harsh voice, and without preamble* “Did you count out that register?!” 

Me: “I… didn’t know I was supposed to.”

Guy: “Well, it’s a good thing I closed last night, so I know exactly how much is in there.”  

Me: *stunned at his rude tone* “Um… okay. Do you want me to count it out now?” 

Guy: “No. I’m going for a cup of coffee.” 

(He about-faced and stalked off. A teeny part of me hoped that maybe he’d bring me back a cup, as a sort of apology for his jerky attitude. He did not, and stood around the department drinking it in front of me, glowering. Later that day, he made me laugh so hard that soda shot out of my nose. I realized then that even if my instincts were wrong and this wasn’t the man of my dreams, he was still a good candidate for a work friend. I eventually learned that he was only 26 years old, and the main reason for his haggard and disheveled appearance was that his father, a single parent, had died the year before, and every penny he made went to paying the mortgage on the family house while he also went to college full-time. He was smart, very funny, and kind, and we had a lot of interests in common. And his eyes were, in fact, an amazing shade of hazel that changed from blue to green to brown depending on the light and his mood. He grew back the goatee that he’d recently been told to shave off, which he preferred and which suited him much better than the wimpy mustache by itself, de-aging his appearance quite a bit. We became really good friends and then fell in love. We married five years later and are still blissfully happy. According to him, he’d had a feeling about me, as well, and was really looking forward to our meeting, but finally seeing me caused something to disconnect between his brain and his mouth, so all that fell out was rudeness. All these years later, he still makes a point of going out to buy me a cup of coffee on the anniversary of that day and serving it to me with a grunt.)

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A Touch Too Much Inappropriate Behavior

, , , , | Romantic | August 25, 2019

(I work as the office manager of an upscale spa. We’ve hired a male massage therapist who is fresh out of school. He’s a sweet guy, good at his job, and is quickly building a list of regular clients. I am working at the front desk when he comes rushing out of the back where the massage rooms are.)

Therapist: “Hey, uh, [My Name]?”

Me: “Hey, [Therapist]. I thought you had a client right now?”

Therapist: “Yeah, I do, but there’s a problem.”

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Therapist: *leans closer and whispers* “She’s, uh, she’s started saying dirty things to me.”

Me: “She’s what?

Therapist: “I don’t know what to do! In school, they only talked about female therapists dealing with inappropriate people. She keeps saying how much I’m turning her on, and how she wants me to do things to her while her husband is getting his massage in the next room! I made up an excuse to leave for a minute. What should I do?”

Me: “The thing to do is inform her that her massage is now over. Tell her that we have zero tolerance for inappropriate behavior. If you don’t feel comfortable saying this, then you can go in the break room and I’ll tell her. We can also bar her in the system from making an appointment here again.” *sigh* “Unfortunately, we can’t directly tell her husband what she did, as it’s currently against company policy. But we can make sure she never does this again to any of our therapists.”

(The therapist chose to be the one to tell her he couldn’t continue the session. She came storming out to the front desk and pitched a fit. I told her she was no longer welcome at our spa, and that if she continued to carry on like that her husband was going to want to know what was going on. That shut her up. She sulked in the lobby until her husband was done with his appointment and made some snooty comment about not wanting to come to a “low-quality” spa like ours anymore. I checked with the therapist who had her husband, to make sure he didn’t pull the same stunt, and she said he was perfectly polite the whole time. We never saw either of them again, though.)

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