Don’t Throw IT Out, But Carrie On Keeping Them

, , , , , | Friendly | June 24, 2017

(I am invited to a friend’s place for a plasticware party, I am asked to bring a friend so I bring my mother. Mum has noticed that the friend has many books that are all turned backwards on her shelves, with the spine to the wall.)

Mum: “I have to ask, why are all these books turned backwards?”

Friend: “Oh, those are all Stephen King books. I used to read them until I started going to church and I realised how evil he is to have been able to write such horrible things. I won’t have them facing into the room.”

Mum: “Why don’t you just donate them somewhere?”

Friend: “Oh, no, that would mean I am passing on his evil to others.”

Mum: “You could just throw them out if you don’t like them that much.”

Friend: “But you don’t throw out perfectly good books; it’s a waste of money. I paid for those.”

(She kept shelves of books deemed unreadable and still complained about the lack of storage in her house for the books she reads.)

Their Complaining Spree Has Hit A Bump

, , , , , | Right | June 23, 2017

(My colleague is seven months pregnant. She’s quite petite so it’s obvious that she’s carrying a child, and most of the customers she’s helped out have noticed and congratulated her. It’s currently summer and our store can get quite hot, so our boss has allowed her to sit on a stool behind the checkout and have a small fan on her counter. I am working at the counter next to her when a customer approaches her.)

Customer: “There’s a product on the very top shelf that I need you to get down for me.”

Colleague: “Of course, ma’am. [My Name] will be happy to find a ladder and help you out with that.

Customer: “What?! How dare you try and just palm me off onto somebody else! Why can’t you just do it yourself?!”

Colleague: *gesturing to her bump* “Well, as you can see I shouldn’t really be climbing up on ladders in my current condition.”

Customer: “You lazy cow; what’s that supposed to mean?”

Colleague: “I’m sorry, but I can’t get up on a ladder because I’m preg—”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. Clearly you think you’re in some sort of privileged position with your fan and stool behind the counter while your poor colleagues slave away in the heat. Go and find a ladder right now or I’ll call and complain to your manager.”

(Overhearing the entire conversation, I decide to step in.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but my colleague has been trying to tell you that she’s obviously quite pregnant and for medical reasons cannot put herself in a position where she risks a fall.”

(The customer looks at Colleague’s bump, the light bulb clearly switching on in her head.)

Customer: “It’s not very high up! She’s still supposed to be helping me. She should go and fetch it!”

Me: “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of an unborn child, would you? Now, if you show me what you need from the top shelf I’ll happily get it down for you.”

(The customer glared at me and started barking orders. At least she left my poor colleague alone after that.)

Burning Memories Germinating In Your Head

, , , , , | Related | June 21, 2017

(When I was about seven years old, my mother’s aunt died. I over hear the adults talking about the funeral and cremation.)

Me: “What’s cremation?”

Mum: “Oh, it’s instead of being buried, [Great Aunt #1] is going into a special fire.”

Me: *horrified* “They are going to burn her?”

Mum: “Yes, that’s what cremation is.”

(I had never known Great Aunt #1 to have a husband and in my mind I decide that’s what was done to unmarried women when they die — they burn them. Before then I thought that all boys were icky and that I would never get married; afterwards I am determined to get married so I don’t get burned when I die. Many years later, my grandmother has passed and my mother has just got her ashes back from the Crematorium.)

Me: “Did I ever tell you what I thought when I was seven, when [Great Aunt #1] died and was cremated?”

Mum: “I don’t think so.”

Me: “I thought that when women who weren’t married died they were burnt as some sort of punishment. That’s what I thought was done to [Great Aunt #1].”

Mum: “Why would you think that? [Great Aunt #1] was married.”

Me: “I never knew she was married.”

Mum: “You’re thinking of [Great Aunt #2]; she wasn’t married.”

Me: “No, we used to visit her in that old house on the highway in [Town] and I don’t ever remember her being married. [Great Aunt #2] lived on [Road] on the other side of [Town].”

Mum: “Oh, no, you wouldn’t have known. [Great Uncle] died before you were born.”

Me: “Anyway, that’s what I thought; then a year or two later, Dad was talking to [His Sisters] about what happens when they bury a body. He said that the germs would get as big as basket balls while they were eating the body.”

Mum: “He was just joking.”

Me: “I know that now, but all I could think of was what would be worse, getting burned or eaten. I figured burning would be quicker and wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Mum: “You don’t feel pain when you are dead.”

Me: “I know that now but I was nine years old.”

(I still shudder at the thought of being eaten by giant germs.)

Harnessing Up All Your Parental Power

, , , , | Related | June 20, 2017

(My niece is around two years old but has very advanced speech skills. Shopping with her is always an ordeal because she always takes off running. My sister is pregnant and unable to run after her so buys a toddler harness and lead. This time we are shopping together so she leaves the harness off. My niece of course decides to run out of the shop with me chasing after her. I manage to stop her just outside the door and before she gets to the busy street. She struggles to get out of my grip.)

Niece: “Let go of me.”

Me: “I’m not going to let go until you promise not to run away.”

Niece: “I promise I won’t run away.”

Me: “Okay, let’s go back inside now.”

Niece: “No, I don’t want to.”

Me: “Yes, you are, because I said so.”

Niece: “No, I want to stay here.”

Me: “No, you are coming inside.”

Niece: “Well, I think I’ll just chuck a tantrum then.”

(She looks behind her, sees concrete so gently lowers herself to the ground and takes a deep breath. I’m looking on in quiet amusement and just as she’s ready to start screaming I pick her up by the front of her outfit.)

Me: “Not with me, you don’t.” *carries her back into the shop like she’s a suitcase, she’s so stunned*

Sister: “What are you doing?” *after I explain* “Looks like I have to get the harness out.”

(After she puts it on, my niece is standing by her, nice and content. We leave the shop and an elderly lady notices my niece.)

Lady: “Oh, what a cutie, look at your lovely red curly hair.” *notices harness and snarls to my sister* “How dare you treat that poor baby like she’s a dog. You should be ashamed of yourself. Take that disgusting thing off her right now!”

(My sister, usually very quick-witted and easy to anger, opens her mouth to yell back when my niece starts yelling at the lady in an almost demonic voice:)

Niece: “SHE CAN’T, BECAUSE I ALWAYS RUN OFF!” *gives her an evil grin and goes back to standing contentedly by her mother’s side*

(The woman was so shocked that we left her standing in the middle of the path with her mouth hanging open.)

Unfiltered Story #90060

, , | Unfiltered | June 20, 2017

[In Australia (or at least, in Sydney), cigarettes can’t be on display- generally they’re in white cases which have doors that you push up. In my particular store, we’re fazing out the selling of cigarettes and have very few left. I’m not a smoker and know very little about cigarette brands. Because we’re fazing them out (and have advertised this) my employer has told me not to bother learning all the different brands.]

Customer: [Walks up to the tills and barks out a brand of cigarettes I’m unfamiliar with]

Me: “I’m sorry sir, what was that?”

Customer: [Repeats the name and then in response to my slightly blank look] Cigarettes, you f*cking idiot, I want my cigarettes!

Me: My apologies Sir, I’m a non-smoker and we’re fazing out cigarettes in this store, so I don’t know all the brands. [I unlock the cabinet and start looking for the brand he wants. It’s hard since most of the cabinet is empty and we only have about three packets left.]

Customer: You’re taking too f*cking long! Give me my f*cking cigarettes!

[At this point, the owner comes behind the counter to figure out what the commotion is.]

Owner: Can I help you sir?

Customer: This bitch is taking too long with my f*cking cigarettes, I want my fuc- [He can only get half the word out because the owner interrupts him]

Owner: You need to leave my store, now!

Customer: But my-

Owner: No. You’ve been incredibly rude to my cashier, when she has been nothing but polite to you. In two more days we will no longer be selling cigarettes here, and you’ll be lucky if we serve you for anything else after your rudeness today.

[The customer left, swearing under his breath about my incompetence. The owner made sure I was okay before going back to what he was doing and I kept serving. I understand that it can be frustrating when someone doesn’t know what you’re talking about, and had we been fully stocked and continuing to sell cigarettes, I would have learned the brands- but regardless, there’s no need to be so rude to your cashier! Thanks to my awesome boss for being so protective of me.]

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