Pigs Can Fly, But They Can’t See Windows

, , , , , , | Right | July 10, 2018

In my former employer’s hotel, the front desk was built so that one couldn’t see the front door — which was glass — while seated.

One summer night, while the wait-staff in the restaurant were still counting their tips, I heard a “thump” against the door. I decided I ought to go check it out, and was puzzled to find nobody at the door. I stepped outside, and there wasn’t a soul in sight to any direction. I turned to go back inside, and noticed something just in my peripheral vision on the ground. Looking down, I discovered a piece of cooked pork roast, about two to three inches thick and six or seven inches across, and an accompanying greasy splat almost dead-center on the glass of the door.

Left to ponder this mystery while cleaning the door, I came to the conclusion that someone both highly accurate with thrown projectiles and highly dissatisfied with their meal had discarded the hunk of pork from a moving vehicle.

When I told this story to my friends later, we christened the incident, “The Drive-By Porking.”

Not Shielded From Your Sarcasm

, , , , , , | Learning | June 9, 2018

(I work at the largest university in Alaska, and we frequently have earthquake drills and, of course, the required fire drills. I am designated as one of our building safety personnel in charge of evacuating the building and getting people to the designated “safe” area away from the building, a large portion of which is floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows. The meeting area is located safely behind the cement parking garage, a good distance from our building. However, people get weirdly stubborn about moving to the correct area, even as I wave and point and usher them. I start becoming very creative in handling these recalcitrant evacuees.)

Me: *in official vest and over bullhorn* “Please step this way behind the parking garage, towards the designated meeting area!”

(A few people move.)

Me: “Folks, please be sure to thank those people over there—” *indicates the people still stubbornly standing right next to the giant glass building* “—who have bravely volunteered to be a human shield for you in the event of a fire or other disaster in which our building, made entirely of glass, could potentially explode outward.” *pause for effect* “Their sacrifice in protecting you from the explosive shrapnel will be much appreciated!”

(The human shields eschew the honor and glory, and move to relative safety behind the parking garage, glaring at me all the while.)

Me: *mentally shrugging; it’s part of my job and I can’t get fired over this* “Thank you for playing the ‘How to stay alive during a natural disaster’ game! Herb, tell them what they’ve won!”

(Most people were laughing pretty hard at this point. The few holdouts glowered at me the entire time.)

Rudolph Misbehaved

, , , , | Right | June 6, 2018

(This is at the breakfast buffet special.)

Me: “So, how are you enjoying the reindeer sausage?”

Tourist: “It’s good, but what is it really?”

Me: “What do you mean? It’s reindeer sausage.”

Tourist: “But they just call it that, right? It’s not actually made out of reindeer.”

Unfiltered Story #113834

, , | | Unfiltered | June 3, 2018

Me: Anchorage jail booking.
Caller: Yeah, is my baby daddy there?
( It’s a slow night, so I decide to play ball)
Me: Whats the baby daddy’s name?
Caller: I’m not sure which one.
Me: How many are there?
Caller: A couple, I think it’s John.
Me: Last name?
Caller: I don’t know.
Me: What is the babys last name? Is it the same as yours? Or did you give the baby it’s dad’s last name?
Caller: Well yeah I gave her her dad’s last name! What kind of mom do you think I am!
(long silence)
Me: Well, whats the last name?
Caller: Hold on, I don’t remember, but I have her birth certificate somewhere…….
Hereit is! The last name is ____.
Me: We have no one by that name currently in jail.
Caller: Well maybe it’s the other one. Try Tony.
Me: Tony Who?
Caller: I don’t know
Me………….

This Style Of Discipline Is Totally Armless

, , , | Right | May 16, 2018

(I’m helping a family with several young children. One of them seems very interested in our armless mannequins.)

Boy: “How do you guys make those?”

(Before I can say anything, the mother speaks up.)

Mom: “If they catch you stealing, they take you into a back room, cut off your arms, and then pour gunk all over you and let you dry! And when it’s done they bring you out front and put you display, like those guys!”

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