A Quizzical Response To Missing The Quiz

, , , , , , | Learning | January 3, 2018

(My grade counsellor sends me an email about a field trip the next day, as she figures I might be interested. While it is absolutely last minute, I still agree to go. I have a test the next day in one of my classes, but the counsellor reassures me that she will talk to my teacher about rescheduling it. The next day in class:)

Teacher: “I’m just going to go through something that came up on the test.”

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but I haven’t written it yet.”

Teacher: “I know you haven’t. I saw you in the morning yesterday, but then you left, which was really suspicious, especially on a test day.”

Me: “I know, but I went on a field trip, and it was last—”

Teacher: “I really don’t appreciate excuses.”

(She says this in front of the entire class, and I’m super embarrassed. She just gives a generic example of a question.)

Teacher: “Unfortunately, since [My Name] hasn’t written the test yet, no one can look over it until she decides she wants to.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can do it on Tuesday, since I have to do a language arts essay on Monday, or I can even write it today.”

(The test was on Thursday and this happens on Friday.)

Teacher: “No, just do it on Tuesday; you’d only have 45 minutes today to do it.”

(Friday classes are the shortest of the week, while other days are all 65 to 80 minutes.)

Me: “But I’d rather not keep others from reviewing their tests.”

Teacher: “Tuesday is fine; you won’t be able to finish it on time today, anyway.”

(Around me, I heard people complaining about having to wait to review it. My friend later informed me that it was an extremely short quiz and it took the class a max of half an hour to do it.)

Acerbic Allergic

, , | Healthy | December 31, 2017

(I am 15. In my family, most of the women on my mom’s side have a condition called Restless Leg Syndrome, which is a brutally frustrating tic where your muscles in your thigh and calf feel like they are in spasm, like a small electric shock. It comes randomly, and nothing seems to help it stop once an episode starts; you just have to ride it out. I’ve been dealing with this myself since I was a kid. What my mom thought were growing pains turned out to be RLS. I’ve been referred to a specialist to see what my options are. Part of the process is conducting a nerve path function test. I have small needles pointed into the tips of my fingers, with electrical simulation higher up my arms to track if the signal is flowing properly. The test is uncomfortable to say the least.)

Specialist: “The results seem to be okay for your arms, which is a good indication that your legs would reveal the same.”

Me: “No short circuit, then? Bonus!”

(I am trying to lighten the mood as my mom is stressed at seeing me in such discomfort, and I am trying to take my mind off of it as well.)

Specialist: *stares blankly at me* “Your RLS is likely caused by poor diet and lack of exercise and in many cases, alcohol.”

Me: “Well, geeze, Mom, if you had just laid off the whiskey at bedtime, we wouldn’t be here now!”

Specialist: *blank stare* “In the event we have to do a minor surgery to explore nerve function, is there anything you’re allergic to in terms of medication?”

Me: “Penicillin.”

Specialist: “And what happens when you take it?”

Me: “I get a terrible rash over my stomach and chest and become very sick to my stomach.”

Specialist: “So you’re not allergic to it.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Specialist: “You’re not allergic to it. You wouldn’t die if it was given to you.”

Me: “Well, no, I guess not but—”

Specialist: “That’s an intolerance. You shouldn’t say you are allergic to penicillin. What if it was required to save your life from an infection?”

Mom: “Well, there are plenty of alternatives out there, I think it’s a semi-common allergy? She’s had to have antibiotics for various infections, and they always seem to find something else.”

Specialist: *to my mom* “Do you have allergies?”

Mom: “Yes, I’m allergic to strawberries.”

Specialist: “And what happens if you eat them?”

Mom: “Well I go into anaphylactic shock very fast.”

Specialist: “THAT, is an allergy. I’m not writing on your chart that you’re allergic to penicillin. See the front reception to re-book when you’re ready.”

(He promptly leaves, with my mom and I sitting in stunned silence. I suppose he was right — I wouldn’t die if I was given penicillin in an emergency, but the marvel’s of modern medicine mean I don’t have to when there are so many alternatives. I am careful to tell other doctors now, that it’s not a life threatening allergy, but to avoid it if possible!)

No Point In Waffling On About It

, , , , , | Related | December 23, 2017

My family has a routine every Christmas where we get all sides of the family together and do a sort of gift exchange. Basically, everybody brings one gift with no tags (so, no “To” or “From”), and we put it in a pile. Then, we play a game to shuffle them around, slowly unveiling gifts. I have brought a hybrid waffle iron/sandwich press for the bundle, and it’s now wrapped up and in the pile.

We go through our game, and people start getting their gifts and opening them. Finally I’m the last person to get a gift, and I look down and start laughing. At first, nobody seems to get it, until my parents see my distinguishable wrapping in my hands and join me in laughing.

I had gotten my own gift from the bundle.

After I explained this the entire family had a good laugh about it. It has been a well-used appliance in our house, so definitely worth it!

Your Secret Santa Is Oprah

, , , , , , | Working | December 22, 2017

I’m at my store’s Christmas party, where we have a gift exchange with the rule being no items over $20. Note that the store manager’s wife, while very nice, is also self-centered and selfish at times.

I end up with a large, hard-cover Oprah book that is easily well over the dollar limit. I’m not thrilled with it as I am not an Oprah fan.

Near the end of the party, the manager’s wife offers to trade gifts with me. I gladly trade the book for a gift certificate at a restaurant.

Later I found out that she had bought the book for the exchange and traded with me because she wanted her own gift. Had I known that at the time, I probably would have declined her offer and donated it somewhere!

This Isn’t The Source You’re Looking For

, , , , , | Right | December 21, 2017

(I work in retail auto parts supply. The following phone call is received about a week before Christmas.)

Me: “Good morning, Parts Source. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Um, hello. Do you have an inflatable cactus?”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Caller: “I’m looking for a giant inflatable cactus. Do you happen to carry them?”

Me: “Um, no, sorry.”

Caller: “OK. Thanks anyway.”

(About two months later, a friend and his wife buy a home and host an open house. I meet one of his new neighbours. The following exchange occurs after some chitchat about the Christmas holiday.)

Neighbour: “It was our turn to host the whole family this year and we decided to make it a Mexican-themed Christmas party with Mexican food, Mexican decorations … the whole nine yards.”

Me: “Great idea! I’ll bet it was fun to plan and set up.”

Neighbour: “Yup … one hilarious thing that happened was my wife decided she wanted to decorate a cactus instead of a tree. The only problem was finding a cactus big enough. I suggested she might find an artificial one … like the big inflatable palm trees we once saw…”.

Me: “Mmmmm.”

Neighbour: “…so she gets the phone book out and calls what she thinks is a store called Party Source and asks if they have an inflatable cactus…”

Me: *uncontrollable laughter*

Page 17/28First...1516171819...Last
« Previous
Next »