Signing In A Scottish Accent

, , , , , , | Learning | March 20, 2019

(I have Asperger’s Syndrome. I often feel like I don’t “fit in” because relating to people is challenging for me. However, I’ve started learning British Sign Language, and I love it. It is literal, logical, and has grey areas. Deaf people are very direct, too. I also have a photographic memory, which I haven’t found to be much use… until now. I learn new signs extremely fast. Even my deaf teacher struggles to keep pace. In class, we are learning about countries. This roleplay happens in front of the class, in BSL.)

Classmate #1: “Where are you going on holiday?”

Me: “New Scotland.”

Classmate #1: “What?”

Me: *slowly in BSL and English* “New Scotland, Canada: Nova Scotia.”

Classmate #1: *confused*

Teacher: “If you want to say two countries, you need to say, ‘and.’ Scotland A-N-D Canada.”

Classmate #2: *in English and BSL* “He didn’t say Scotland; I think he means New England and Canada.”

(I am extremely confused. The signs for England and Scotland are very different and unmistakable. I have no idea where she got “New England” from. As for my teacher, he didn’t have a clear view, and missed the sign “new.” He thinks I mean Scotland and Canada. I can’t get it across in BSL, so I resort to English.)

Me: “No, I signed literally, ‘New Scotland.’ That means Nova Scotia in Canada, which is Latin for ‘New Scotland.’ In most languages, including BSL, Nova Scotia is translated literally. I saw it last week from an interpreter on TV.”

Teacher: “Oh. Nothing wrong with the sign, but maybe we’ll keep it at the right level for the exam?”

(I continue to learn BSL extremely fast. One day I hope to qualify as an interpreter.)

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The Barking Mad Policeman Is Worse Than The Bite

, , , , , , | Legal | October 31, 2018

(I am attacked by a dog when I am cycling home from work. A huge mastiff jumps, and his claw slices into my arm, so I’m losing a lot of blood and I will need stitches. I need to get to hospital immediately. It is rush hour, and my car is only twenty metres away. I decide to drive myself, instead of calling an ambulance. Just outside the hospital, I see blue lights behind me. I pull over, get out of the car, and start speaking immediately.)

Me: “I’ve been mauled by a dog. I’m going to Accident & Emergency.”

Officer: “Why are you driving in the bus lane?”

Me: “Seriously? I need to get seen immediately. That’s more important than driving a bus lane. Really, now is not the time.”

Officer: “When did this happen? Where? Was anyone with you?”

Me: “Ten minutes ago on [Street], by myself. Why? Are you investigating the dog?”

Officer: “You should have called an ambulance. You shouldn’t be driving like that.”

(I’m livid at this point. The cop can see a huge wound on my arm, but he is arguing about this right literally in front of the hospital. I have had enough. Technically, he could ticket me for this, but I take my chances.)

Me: “What exactly did you observe about my driving that makes you think I can’t drive with an injured arm?”

Officer: “Nothing in particular. You can’t concentrate properly with—”

Me: “So, you have no evidence that my driving is impaired. Look at my arm. I will need stitches. Would I get stitches in an ambulance?”

Officer: “No, you—”

Me: “Exactly; an ambulance would be no better than a taxi. Also, it’s rush hour. A tiny car like this–” *points at my Smart car* “–gets me through the traffic. Now, I have more urgent matters to attend to in the hospital over there.” *points 300 yards away* “If you have any more questions, ask me during triage.”

Officer: “You can go now. This time only, you can use the bus lane for turning into the hospital.”

Me: “You don’t need to tell me.”

(In the hospital, I am given six stitches immediately. Then, the following happens:)

Me: “The cop tried to tell me I should have waited on an ambulance. You’re the medic. Would it have made any difference if I got an ambulance?”

Nurse: “Not in the slightest.”

Me: “And was I in a fit state to drive?”

Nurse: “Perfectly. Keep it dry, and the stitches out in two weeks.”

Me: “Thank you, sir.”

(Police later told me they don’t investigate dog attacks at all, even though I was hospitalised and I have the name and address. Where do these people get their priorities from?)

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Unfiltered Story #120915

, , , | Unfiltered | September 12, 2018

(I am with my family for a weekend to celebrate my dad’s birthday. We decide to do a guided tour of a popular tourist attraction. My wife works there but today is her day off. We arrive for the tour and meet the guide, who obviously knows my wife.)

My Wife: *to tour guide* “Hello [guide]!”

Guide: *to my wife* “Hi [Wife]! You’re here with your family then?”

My Wife: “Yes, these are my parents-in-law:” *gestures to my parents* “And this is my husband [My Name].” *gestures to me*

Guide: “Oh hello [My Name]! [Wife] has told me a lot about you!”

Me: “Oh really? Has it all been good? Because if it’s been all good, then it’s all lies!”

(The guide laughs and my wife rolls her eyes.)

My wife (to tour guide): Don’t worry, if he gets annoying just leave him somewhere! *she and the guide both laugh*

Me (to my wife): Hey, come on! You’ve been trying that for 5 years now and it NEVER works! *laughing now too*

My dad: Yeah well, she’s not trying hard enough!

We all laugh. I love my family!

Not Thinking (About What’s) Inside The Box

, , , , , , | Right | October 26, 2017

(I work in a branch of a fried chicken chain. We do several different boxed burger meals, two of which are very similar. They are almost identical, the only difference being that [Box Meal #1] comes with a piece of chicken and [Box Meal #2] comes with two hot wings. Both are very popular and are ordered very regularly. One day, as I’m wiping tables in the dining area, a woman comes in with one of our boxed meals. She is clearly angry.)

Customer: “Excuse me! You got my order wrong!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry! What was wrong with it? I can fix that for you right away.”

Customer: “This happens every f****** time I come in here. There’s always something wrong. I had to walk back from home for over fifteen minutes!”

(The cursing doesn’t bother me, since around here every other word is a swear word whether the person’s angry or not.)

Me: “If you just tell me what the problem—”

Customer: “You didn’t give me my f****** chicken.”

(She shoves the box into my hands. I open it up to check. Everything that’s included in [Box Meal #1] appears to be in there.)

Me: “Was this a [Box Meal #1]?”

Customer: *crossing her arms* “Yes.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any problems with it. Everything’s in there. The burger, the chi—”

Customer: “Two. Two pieces of chicken.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I’m supposed to have two pieces of chicken.”

Me: “Oh, did you order an extra piece? I’m sorry, I—”

Customer: “No! I ordered a [Box Meal #1] and it comes with two pieces of chicken. Jesus, do you not know how to do your f****** job? Don’t they train you here? F***’s sake.”

(I now realise what she’s talking about.)

Me: “Are you sure you’re not thinking of [Box Meal #2]? That one comes with two hot wings.”

Customer: “Of course I’m f****** sure! I order this all the time! How can a [Restaurant] have staff that doesn’t even f****** know what food they serve.”

Me: “Actually, if you look at our menu board over there you’ll see that the [Box Meal #2] comes with two hot wings and [Box Meal #1] comes with just the one piece of chicken on the bone.”

(I point to our menu board as she squints at it, scrutinising every word. A look of embarrassment washes over her face as she realises her mistake. She turns back to me and smiles.)

Customer: *suddenly cheery* “Oh! I’m sorry. Thank you very much, love. Bye!”

(She turns and walks out of the restaurant as if nothing ever happened.)

Me: “What…?”

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