Thanos Had One (1) Good Idea

, , , , , | Learning | May 19, 2020

I’m a ski instructor working for a ski school. This winter, we were hired as ski instructors for a high school ski trip. I was assigned the most advanced skiers, who consistently insisted on taking the hardest slopes and racing at high speeds.

During our lunch break on the first day, when we took off our jackets, I noticed that, apart from the mandatory helmet, one of the boys was wearing a full suit of armour underneath. It was a complete suit of hard plastic motocross armour, with a breastplate, shoulder armour, elbow and knee braces, gauntlets, shin guards, buttplate, calf armour, and a neck brace. It was also bright golden, as he once wore it as a Thanos cosplay.

We all laughed and mocked him over it, but he took it in good stride, lamenting that he didn’t bring his purple face paint or two Infinity Gauntlets and laughing off us calling him a coward, insisting that it was a worthwhile precaution. 

By the last day, after several crashes, everyone was sore and bruised. One of the guys even dislocated his shoulder after he tumbled down a slope. On the other hand, Thanos was completely unscathed, despite tumbling down a slope in a similar manner thrice — he was showing off — being rammed into by another skier, and even getting into a fistfight with a pair of very rude Americans.

That was the first time in my seven years of ski instructing that I ever heard or saw anyone do that, but given the amount of punishment he shrugged off, I’m starting to think he had a point.

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A Heartbreaking Lack Of Pets In This Story

, , , , , , | Friendly | May 6, 2020

I was going out for a walk and ended up at a crossing where I waited for the light to turn green. I was joined by a middle-aged woman and her teeny, tiny puppy on a leash.

As I locked eyes with the dog, it started to tremble and wag its tail — more like its whole backside — ready to explode with happiness as it was about to be pet by me.

I was about to ask the woman if that was okay for her, when she suddenly looked at me and barked, “NO!”

I learned my lesson. I’m not sure the dog did, though.

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She Should Just Scoot On Out Of There

, , , , | Right | April 30, 2020

I am working at a movie theater. As part of the safety precautions, larger items aren’t allowed in the auditorium. A school class was here yesterday for a private viewing and a boy had to leave his scooter with us. We have a little room behind the register, barely big enough to store bigger items and for lost and found, where the employee on duty stored the scooter.

Apparently, the little boy forgot to reclaim his scooter after the movie, so the next day, as soon as we open, he and his mother return to get it. The mother approaches me angrily, as if it is my fault and not her son’s.

Mother: “My son forgot his scooter here yesterday. It’s red and black. Is it still there?”

Me: “Let me check.”

I check the small room and it’s there, the only scooter we have at the moment, so I bring it out.

Mother: “Well, thanks. Wait, it doesn’t look right. The handle is too high!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, that must have happened while carrying it.”

Mother: “Bulls***! It can’t just adjust like that while carrying it. You have to use a screwdriver to adjust it. Someone did this on purpose and probably drove around in that room back there!”

Me: “I assure you, nobody—”

Mother: *Interrupting* “Bulls***! You’re lying! You or one of your colleagues was driving around on it.”

Me: “We respect our customers’ belongings, and apart from that, we have neither the time nor the space for driving around on your kid’s scooter.”

The manager — who is maybe about twenty-five — and another curious employee come to join me because they overheard the woman getting louder and louder.

Manager: “Excuse me, may I help you?”

The mother tells the manager that someone drove around on the scooter and that I’m lying to her.

Mother: “But maybe you dumb young people just can’t grasp what I’m trying to say. Maybe—” *turns to me* “—you could call the manager so he can listen to how you treat me.”

I turn around to the manager who is standing next to me.

Me: “[Manager], this woman needs your help.”

Mother: “You’re the— Anyway, do something!”

Manager: “Maybe we could get a screwdriver from the office and readjust your son’s scooter. Although I highly doubt any of our employees used the scooter, I apologize for any inconvenience.”

Meanwhile, the son is looking more and more visibly embarrassed for his mother’s behavior. Suddenly, while holding the scooter the whole time, he begins nudging her and trying to tell her something.

Boy: “Mooom?”

Mother: “Not now!”

Boy: “But Moooom!”

Mother: “WHAT IS IT?!”

Boy: “Look, the handle can be readjusted without a screwdriver; you just have to pull and—”

The mother has a shocked stare and then turns back to us.

Mother: “Anyway, there is probably something else you did wrong, so I’m not sorry for accusing you!”

She stormed off.

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Sorry, Ma’am, This Is The Ugly Section

, , , | Right | April 15, 2020

I am a customer browsing through the tableware department and I witness an elderly couple approaching a sales clerk.

Man: “Is this the tableware?”

Sales Clerk: *somewhat puzzled* “Yes, this here is the tableware.”

Woman: “We are looking for a certain dinner set which we saw in your catalogue.”

Sales Clerk: “Sure, what does it look like?”

Woman: “Beautiful.”

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When You Don’t Suffer Fools, You Attack Them

, , , | Right | March 18, 2020

(I work in a museum, and one of my colleagues told me this story. He’s known for being a kindly man with an impeccable work ethic. He is, however, not known to suffer fools gladly. A woman is about to change her baby’s nappy — diaper — right in the middle of an exhibition area, on the floor.)

Colleague: “Excuse me, madam, we have a baby care room nearby. Let me show you where it is.”

(The woman stares crossly but lets my colleague guide her to the baby care room without saying a single word. After a while, she exits the facilities with the dirty nappy in her hand. She dumps it in a dustbin in the exhibition space. The whole room starts to reek instantly. She hurries away.)

Colleague: *calling after her* “What kind of pigsty did you escape from, madam?!”

(On another occasion, a visitor is trying to figure out how our BCI — brain computer interface, a technology that allows you to control software with your brain waves — exhibit works without our assistance, which he clearly needs because he has no clue what he’s doing. He shoves the two large signs that block the access to the computer aside. The signs inform our visitors that they have to book an appointment if they want to try the BCI because the whole process is lengthy and not all employees know how to operate it. He puts on one of the BCI caps and is rummaging around, trying to find the rest of the equipment. The caps look like bathing caps with lots of colourful plastic bits on them and look kind of funny. My colleague approaches him.)

Colleague: “Well, somebody clearly didn’t read the signs.” *points toward the signs, laughing*

Visitor: *gets startled, scurries away with cap and all, looking hilarious*

Colleague: “Hey! Punch! Get back here with that cap!” *still laughing*

Visitor: *returns with the cap, fuming* “Did you just call me ‘Punch’? This is outrageous! I will not be treated in this disrespectful way!” *throws the cap at my colleague*

Colleague: “Then don’t make a joke of yourself, sir.”

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