Or Could Be Impregnated With An Alien

| London, ON, Canada | Romantic | March 11, 2016

(Some coworkers and I go out for some billiards and snacks after work one night. I have just ordered a sampler which comes with various items like deep fried pickles. I’ve always hated pickles, but thought I’d give them a shot. I am messaging my husband.)

Me: “I tried a deep fried pickle… Still don’t like pickles.”

(Later:)

Me: “If I suddenly like pickles, I’m either pregnant or an alien-abductee. So, give me a pregnancy test if I like pickles. If it comes back negative, call the CIA or kill me… unless I’m being nice; then maybe I’m a misunderstood nice alien.”

Being Green But Going Red

| Surrey, England, UK | Friendly | March 7, 2016

(I have a friend called Sam [female] whom I’ve known for ages. Her family moved from Ireland when she was four and we were in the same class and have stayed friends. We’re out celebrating her 25th birthday with friends and we’re all wearing something green so it’s easy to spot each other. She gets a call from her grandparents and walks outside just as another friend comes into the pub. We realise he’s brought his flatmate and none of us like her. She’s an unlikable, opinionated bigot.)

Me: “Hi, [Friend], Sam just stepped out to talk to her nan and daideo.”

Friend: “I saw her. Shall I get—”

Flatmate: “Daddio? Are you trying to be all ‘50s or something? And what’s with all the bloody green?”

Me: “Daideo is Gaelic for grandad — it’s what Sam calls him — and we’re all wearing green because it’s Sam’s favourite colour, and we can see each other easily in a crowd.”

Flatmate: “Why does she call him Daideo?”

Friend: “Because she’s Irish, obviously.”

(Sam then comes back in and walks over to us.)

Flatmate: “She doesn’t sound it. Is she one of those ‘plastic paddy’s’? Honestly, some people think being Irish is just so cool and will do anything to pretend they’re connected to the Irish. Next thing we know she’ll be living in a caravan with seven kids all with ridiculous ‘Irish names’ that no-one can pronounce or spell and offering to tarmac our driveways for a million pounds.”

(We all stare at her in shock. She’s being very rude, offensive, and stereotypical about Irish travellers (who are not like this). That’s when Sam speaks up.)

Sam: “All my relations were born in Ireland. My brothers and sisters, and me, were born there, too. If you want, I can tell you all this in Gaelic but I don’t think you’d know what I’m saying. Oh, also, the reason I’m called Sam is because my real name is Soirse Aoife Meabh and people like you can’t be bothered to listen properly and learn how to say it or show the respect my ancestors deserve.”

(The whole pub has gone quiet and is listening to what is going on. Sam is about to turn away when our friend’s flatmate rolls her eyes and sighs as if she doesn’t care about any of this.)

Sam: “Actually, you know what? I’m usually pretty laid-back and nice to everyone but you’re a horrible, spiteful, self-centered, bigoted b****. It’s my birthday celebration and I would like you to f*** off and never speak to me again, you utterly ghastly piece of s***.”

(Our friend’s flatmate looked at us, I assume waiting for someone to stand up for her, but she’s done stuff like this so many times that we’re all sick of her. Luckily she left, and moved to a new place a few months later, so we don’t see her anymore. And, a stranger bought my friend Sam a drink for her “arse-kicking speech!”)

Raising The Bar For Bad Management

, | Berlin, Germany | Working | March 7, 2016

(I am a waitress, but I sometimes work at the bar if we are short-staffed. My manager is known to be unpleasant and very inconsistent. In this story, I am working at the bar, but have quickly brought an order to the kitchen that my coworker forgot.)

Manager: *upon noticing me being gone from the bar for a few seconds* “Why are you running around!? You’re supposed to be behind the bar! If I see you away from the bar I’ll get you written up.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, I’ll make sure to stay here.”

(About an hour later I have diligently stayed behind the bar.)

Manager: “Why are you behind the bar!? There are tables that have to be cleared; you shouldn’t just stand behind the bar! I’ll have you written up for this!”

Me: “But…”

Has No Reservations About His Comments

| Phoenix, AZ, USA | Right | February 25, 2016

(In college, I am a bartender at one of those hole-in-the-wall places where men go to get drunk as quickly as possible. One night, our bouncer, who is Navajo, gets off while I still have hour on my shift, but he sits and drinks a Coke while he waits for me because my car is in the shop. The white guy sitting next to him strikes up a conversation. I missed the beginning, but it got louder.)

Customer: “You [expletive] Mexicans need to go home and find your own jobs. Stop taking our jobs. You took my job!”

Bouncer: “I already told you, buddy. I’m Navajo.”

Customer: “Oh. But they’re taking our jobs! I got fired and they gave my job to some Mexican!”

Bouncer: “I’m sorry to hear that.”

(The customer keeps ranting about immigrants stealing jobs and asking the bartender what he’s doing to stop them, and how he’s voting on a certain bill, as the bouncer gets more and more annoyed and finally snaps.)

Bouncer: “You know what, buddy? How about you shut up and just drink your beer there.”

Customer: “I bet you’re a liberal. I bet you’re a traitor. You’re probably glad they’re taking all the jobs so you can be a lazy [expletive] down on the rez, huh?”

Bouncer: “I have a job, sir, but I’m glad they’re taking yours. Seems to me your people stole this land, so I don’t feel at all sorry you’re getting it stolen from you, no.”

(It took the customer a minute to work that out, then he got up and tried to swing at the bouncer. He missed completely and nearly fell, and was escorted out of the bar.)

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A Fine Study In Bad Service

| UK | Working | February 20, 2016

(I’m in a group of 20 students on our way to London. We decide to stop at a pub for a quick break. Half of us go to the bar, while the other half shove some tables together. The group at the bar return without drinks.)

Friend: “The barman said the card machine’s having some problems.”

Me: “That’s fine. I’ve got cash.”

(I go to the bar and speak to a barwoman.)

Me: “Could I have a bottle of [Soda], please?”

Barwoman: “Certainly.”

(She goes to fetch it, but the barman pulls her aside for a quiet word. She comes back.)

Barwoman: “I need to see some ID.”

Me: “I’m only drinking [Soda].”

Barwoman: “I need to see it anyway.”

(Since we’re all over 18 anyway, I show her my driving license.)

Me: “Can I get a drink now?”

Barwoman: “The machine’s down.”

Me: “I’ve got cash.”

Barwoman: “Oh, it’s not just the card machine. It’s the whole till.”

(We wait patiently, after a while, I spot them serving an elderly couple down the end of the bar. We go back up, but the barman looks annoyed.)

Barman: “I keep telling you, the till isn’t working.”

Friend #2: “But you just served them.”

Barman: “Oh, that till’s working. Ot’s this one that isn’t.”

Me: “Well, could you serve us on that till?”

Barman: “No, sorry. That one’s gone down as well now.”

(At this point, we realise that they just didn’t want to serve students. We oblige by taking our money elsewhere.)

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