Next, They’ll Learn How To Draw Dinosaurs

, , , , , , | Learning | October 5, 2020

I work as a teacher’s assistant for a first-grade class, meaning I follow students to their specials. We are currently in art class watching the art teacher give a demonstration on how to draw an owl.

Two boys are sitting together at a table. [Student #1] is new to the school, while [Student #2] went here as a kindergartener. 

[Student #1] is impressed with the teacher’s work and upset with his own.

Student #1: “Aw, man, she’s really good!”

[Student #2] is trying to be comforting.

Student #2: “Don’t worry; she’s been doing this for 2,000 years!”

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I Got 244 Problems And You’re 422 Of Them

, , , | Right | August 25, 2020

A woman comes in for some thread and I show her where it is. After a few minutes, she comes back up.

Customer: “I’m looking for this color but I can’t seem to find it back there. It’s number 244 and it should be a tan color.”

I go back to help her look but there are no colors from 225 to 300.

Me: “I’m looking in the book for this company and that number doesn’t seem to exist.”

Customer: “Well, let me check where I wrote it down.”

As she goes to check her book, I look at number 422 on a hunch and it is a tan thread. I show it to her when she gets back.

Me: “Are you sure it wasn’t 422? See, it’s a tan color.”

Customer: “No, it can’t be. See, I wrote it down.”

She shows me her book where it says 244, so I put it away.

Customer: “You know, I bet I might have meant 422.”

She opens the drawer and pulls it out.

Customer: “See, it is a tan color, so I’ll get this one.”

Related:
I Got 99 Problems, And… We Should Really Get Out Of Here
I Got 99 Problems And You’re Sixty Of Them
I Got 99 Problems And All Of Them Are Unpaid For Items
I Got 99 Problems And A Hundred Is One
I Got 99 Problems And Your Change Is One

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Artfully Setting Himself Up For Failure, Part 2

, , , , | Right | August 13, 2020

I work as a gallery attendant in a museum where my job is to talk to people about artworks in the galleries. We have this piece by the artist Joan Jonas — a lady who’s currently in her eighties — on display. Most people don’t recognize her name because she did her most famous works in the 1960s, so anyone too young to remember doesn’t often know her.

This guy who looks to be in his thirties and his mother come over.

Me: “This is done in conjunction with the artist Joan Jonas.”

Guy: “Joe Jonas? Isn’t he really popular right now?”

Me: “No, not Joe, Joan Jonas. She was part of the Fluxus movement but still does art now.”

Guy: “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. I don’t know much of his work but I hear a lot about him.”

I want to scream at this idiot.

Me:She has been around for quite some time and currently mentors this other artist, so they worked together on this. She makes some really amazing pieces.”

He then ignored me completely, went over to read the sign on the wall, and proceeded to explain the meaning behind the piece to his mother, getting absolutely every single thing wrong.

This wasn’t one of those pieces where the artist wanted everything to be open to interpretation; it had a very strong sociopolitical message and that’s why the artists wanted us there to explain it.

I just let the guy keep babbling about nonsense because he was clearly one of those geniuses who knows more about artworks his first time looking at them than the people who were literally trained by the artists themselves.

Related:
Artfully Setting Himself Up For Failure

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In The Middle Of Difficulty Lies Opportunity… For Revenge

, , , , , | Related | August 11, 2020

In art class, my younger brother drew a portrait of someone he assured me was Albert Einstein, a claim I found… dubious. Our mother called it a masterpiece and insisted on framing it up on the wall in our room.

It was utterly creepy, with horrid nostrils and mismatched eyes that I could swear followed me wherever I went. It was also right above our beds, which meant I got to wake up to a creepy old man staring down at me every day.

Unfortunately, I was naive enough to mention it to my brother, who then gleefully insisted on keeping it there for the next decade. Eventually, we both moved out, and I threw the portrait out during the confusion of packing and moving out.

My brother found out eventually and vowed vengeance, promising that I’d one day regret tossing Einstein out. Nevertheless, those were six happy years spent away from that horrid portrait.

When the recent health crisis got worse, we moved back in to help our mother. The next morning, I woke up to find the portrait staring right down at me once again and freaked out.

Apparently, at some point, my brother had drawn another portrait of Einstein and deliberately made it even creepier than the last — warty nose, mismatched nostrils and eyes, moustache and expression that just screamed “pervert,” and wormy eyebrows. He hung it in the same spot as its predecessor after I went to bed.

I literally had it burned, but the damage was done. As promised, I regret tossing Einstein out. It wasn’t worth being traumatised by its successor.

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Outlining Her Complaint

, , , , , | Right | June 23, 2020

I work as a caricature artist at a theme park, and though we get the occasional rejection, this one always confuses me. I have just drawn the basic outline of a girl’s face.

Mother: “It doesn’t look like her.”

Me: “I… but… what?”

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