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Quack Quack, Gobble Gobble

, , , , , , | Related | May 16, 2021

My wife has the most adorable godson. When he was about four years old, my wife and I took him on a trip to the zoo. We arrived at the “savannah,” a big enclosure with elephants, giraffes, zebras, etc. In addition to the fence, there was a big moat to keep the animals from escaping.

Wife: “Look, [Godson], elephants! Oh, and giraffes! Aren’t they funny with those long necks?”

Godson: *Pointing to the moat* “Look, Auntie, ducks!”

Wife: *Laughing* “Oh, man! If he wanted to see ducks, we could have taken him to the park, instead.”

Share The Road, People!

, , , , , | Legal | April 19, 2021

When my son is about sixteen, he gets hit by a car when crossing a road — for once when he had the green light — on his bike. He gets T-boned by a car coming from the same direction and turning right. He doesn’t remember the hit itself, just standing behind the car, dazedly holding the boot of the car. Thanks to some martial art training and sheer luck, he went up and over the car and the car went over the bike.

The police office is not far from the accident, and both the driver and my son are brought there. As he is a minor, we are called and all parties are brought together in a room to figure out what happened.

Driver: “He ran a red light and I could not avoid him.”

Police Officer: “At that crossroad, cars, bicycles, and pedestrians have green at the same time, so if he ran the red light, so did you.”

Driver: “No, no, he was on the sidewalk.”

Police Officer: “Okay, so he was on the sidewalk when you hit him. What were you doing on the sidewalk?”

Driver: “No, I mean he was at the crossing.”

Police Officer: “So, you didn’t see him?”

Driver: “Yes, yes, I did see him.”

Police Officer: “It was on purpose, then?”

The driver did try a few other variations but could not think of a scenario where she wasn’t at fault. We took my son for a checkup and all he had to show for the accident was a small but complicated fracture that healed well, so no long-term consequences. But it doesn’t stop there.

Remember how he went over the car, probably executing a martial art roll, and the car went over the bike, damaging both top and bottom? The driver worked for a garage annex repair shop and did not mention the accident NOR the damage. As this was a work-issued car, the insurance contacted her employer, as she was at fault, and any damages to the car were not covered. She lost her job over it — not due to the accident but by not owning up to it.

She Must Be Thinking In Double-Dutch

, , , | Right | April 7, 2021

I’m eating at a fast food place in Belgium. A couple next to me is discussing something in English. When it is their turn, the guy orders in Dutch, the local language.

Girl: “Did you just now order in Dutch?”

Guy: “Yes.”

Girl: “You’re an idiot; they all understand English here.”

The guy shrugged it off and I tried to process what I’d overheard.

Welcome To The Corner Store California

, , , | Working | April 6, 2021

I enter a store and go directly to the corner where I know I’ll find the articles I am interested in. I make my choice and go to the counter. Nobody is there. I wait patiently, thinking the person who should be behind the counter needed a bathroom break or something. No one shows. I yell. No reaction. I try again a bit louder. Nothing.

Fed up, I go up the stairs toward the doors, leaving the things I picked up on the counter. The doors are locked. Now, I’m a bit claustrophobic and the fact that I can’t get out makes me feel like freaking out. I manage to keep my anxiety down by taking action — I usually can stop a full-blown panic attack by diverting my attention if panic levels are not too high — and start looking up the number for the local police station. Google to the rescue! While on hold, I hear something at the door and it opens. The store owner or attendant or whoever has the key enters. I hang up.

Owner: *Accusingly* “How did you get in?”

I’m a tad ticked off.

Me: “Through the door!”

Owner: “Which door? How did you find the back door?”

Me: “I entered through that door.”

I indicate the door she just opened.

Owner: “Well, why didn’t you tell me you were in the store?!”

I’m totally flabbergasted, with a lot of responses going through my head, varying from the less polite to the very much less polite.

Me: “Why didn’t you warn me you were leaving?”

Owner: “You should have told me you were in here!”

Me: “Well, in a minute, I no longer will be. You’ll find the articles I picked on the counter.”

I need to add that I was in an obscured corner in an otherwise open plan shop. No, I did not see her behind the counter — which is placed directly opposite the door — upon entering, but I knew there was usually only one person in the shop and, as I said, I thought she was on a bathroom break. Thinking back, she probably was getting her purse and coat in the back, and as I made a beeline to the screened-off part of the store, we crossed each other unnoticed. I do understand she was a bit shocked finding someone in what she thought to be an empty shop — I was in plain view when she entered –and I probably would have been more forgiving if she was more apologetic and less accusing. To this day, I have never returned and I don’t plan to.

I’m A Loser, Baby

, , , , | Working | March 23, 2021

I’m unlucky in games and lotteries. I once participated in a board game where everyone else finished and I never went beyond square fifteen, if I reached that one at all. Somehow, I managed to land on the “return to start” field, and when I skipped it, I was thrown back so I could try again. My nieces and nephews loved playing games with me when they were little. Whereas my brother had to cheat massively to lose a game or at least barely win it, they were almost assured the win when playing with me.

One day, I’m at a fair and a man with a lottery type of game approaches me with the “always win” slogan. The cheapest option has you drawing three tickets.

Me: “So every number wins?”

Seller: “No, ma’am, I couldn’t do that, but every draw has at least one winning ticket. Only numbers ending in [three different numbers, each with increasingly more valuable prizes] are winning.”

Me: “Not interested, thank you.”

Seller: “But ma’am, look at the fine prizes you can win.”

Me: “Not interested. Besides, I would be throwing money away since I’m not going to win anyway.”

Seller: “That won’t be happening; people never leave without at least one prize.”

Me: “People might. I won’t.”

He keeps insisting until I cave.

Me: “Okay, I will prove it to you. Give me three tickets and I’ll show you that I ain’t winning a thing.”

The man happily sold me the tickets. I drew three envelopes. First one: nothing. Second one: nothing. His jaw dropped as I showed him the final number: nope. To his credit, he awarded me the pick of one of the least valuable prizes. It wasn’t needed, but it was appreciated, so I guess I won after all.