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Weddings Are Weddings Are Weddings

, , , , , | Working | March 3, 2023

I am working in my office and overhear two coworkers talking. One of them is describing a wedding they attended over the weekend.

Coworker #1: “It was amazing. Both the grooms looked so beautiful.”

Another coworker sitting close to them interjects.

Coworker #2: “Ah, so it was a gay wedding.”

She overemphasizes the word “gay”.

Coworker #1: “Yes, it was.”

Coworker #2: “So say that, then! It’s misleading to spend all this time talking about a wedding and making me think how lovely it is when it’s actually a gay wedding!”

I decide it’s my turn to interject.

Me: “[Coworker #1], it sounds so lovely! I’m going to a straight wedding this weekend, so thanks for giving me butterflies!”

Coworker #2: “That’s just a wedding. You don’t have to say ‘straight wedding’.”

Me: “If you get to say ‘gay wedding’, then I get to say ‘straight wedding’.”

Coworker #2: “No! If it’s two straight people getting married, then it’s just a wedding! If it’s two gays getting married, then it’s a gay wedding!”

Me: “Why?”

Coworker #2: *Getting flustered* “Well… because!”

Me: “But why?”

Coworker #2: “You know!”

Me: “I really, really don’t. You need to spell it out for me.”

Coworker #2: “You know! Because it’s not a…” *whispers* “…not a real wedding!”

Me: “I’m happy calling all weddings just weddings because they’re all just weddings! If you insist on using the labels, then I am going to use them for all of them. I am very much looking forward to going to a straight wedding this weekend!”

[Coworker #2] huffs and storms off to the coffee station.

My boss has heard everything.

Boss: “Wait until our Monday meeting! Last year, I attended a genderfluid wedding and I just so happened to get the photos just this week! The lucky couple both wore dresses at the ceremony and tuxes at the reception!”

Kids Really Do Say The Darnedest Things

, , , , , | Friendly | March 3, 2023

This happened years ago when my younger brother was very small. We have a community of Hungarians who live in our town in Germany. One year, someone had the brilliant idea to invite another Hungarian community from another town to our Christmas party. Two groups of Hungarian people sharing the experience of living in Germany, right?

Well, it didn’t take long for the adults to start arguing. Our guests insisted on kicking a family off the party, as they aren’t ethnic Hungarians, which our group disagreed with. Once the argument calmed down a bit, my younger brother went up to one of the guests.

Brother: “Why don’t you like [Woman]?”

Guest: “Her family’s bad; they’re [slur]s.”

Brother: “What did they do to be bad?”

Guest: “They don’t need to do anything. They’re [slur]s.”

Brother: “So, [slur]s are bad because they are [slur]s.”

Guest: “Yes. Finally, someone here gets it.”

Brother: “Why don’t you just say you’re Nazis?”

A Tornado Of Awfulness

, , , , , , | Right | March 3, 2023

Our store is the only real full-sized grocery store in a little town. We have just had a tornado warning. It thankfully passed without incident, but it was enough to cause a slight panic attack in one of my coworkers who has some tornado-related PTSD.

A customer is emerging from the shelter with the rest of us and notices the coworker gaining control of her breathing.

Customer: “What’s wrong with her? She was helping me before we had to waste our time! I need her back on her feet.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, she just needs a moment. I’ll be happy to take over your transaction for you.”

Customer: “But what is wrong with her?”

Me: “Nothing, sir, she’s just a bit shaken from the tornado warning.”

Customer: “Ugh… all these people have something these days! Everyone has ADHD because they’re too lazy to concentrate! Everyone is autistic because they’re too scared to talk to people! Everyone has depression this and is triggered by that! If all these people are too weak to actually live, then let them all kill themselves and we can filter them out of the gene pool!”

Me: “Sir… first of all… wow. Secondly, if you genuinely believe even one word of what you just said, then we’re done here. Leave, now. I won’t ask again. You’re banned.”

Customer: “But this is the only store in town! You can’t ban me!”

Me: “I can, and I have. If it makes you sad, well then boo-hoo. Go and be depressed about it.”

He gave me a middle finger and stormed out. He’s tried to sneak back in twice, but we all know him — little town, remember — and tell him to leave.

Warning: This Story Is Huggable

, , , , , , , , | Right | March 1, 2023

I am checking out an older lady at my grocery store. A younger man comes up behind her, carrying a basket but also engrossed in his phone. He looks up and the two customers spot each other. Suddenly, I can feel the tension in the air.

Older Lady Customer: “Oh… hello.”

Younger Male Customer: “…hello.”

Older Lady Customer: “You look well.”

Younger Male Customer: “As do you.”

Older Lady Customer: “So… how is…”

Younger Male Customer: “…he’s fine.”

Older Lady Customer: “Which means…”

Younger Male Customer: “…yes. Five years next month.”

Older Lady Customer: “Then I guess we have nothing more to discuss.”

I ring her up and she pays and leaves. I start scanning the younger male customer’s items, but he looks visibly shaken. He can see me noticing.

Younger Male Customer: “That was my mother. She dissolved our relationship because I came out as gay and declared love for my partner — now husband.”

Me: “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Younger Male Customer: “It’s okay. I am very much in love, so I am lucky. You can’t have everything.”

I’m thinking, “I could do something… anything.”

Me: “Would you like to use my staff discount?”

Younger Male Customer: “That’s very kind of you, but I’m fine. I don’t need you to do that.”

I take note that I have no other customers.

Me: “Would… would you like a hug?

The man considers this for a moment.

Younger Male Customer: “Yes, I would.”

We hugged for about thirty seconds, and he broke down and cried silently. He thanked me, and with a sniff, he paid for his items. He’s become a new favorite regular.

His Attitude Could Use Some Maintenance

, , , , , , , , | Working | February 28, 2023

I’m a woman, working in a factory that produces NEMA (National Electrical Manufacturers Association) motors. My particular line assembles the stator core, and my job is to press the wires into their final shape and test them for any defects. I’ve done this for going on five years now.

However, my press hasn’t been working right for months, and maintenance has been lazy about getting around to fixing the problem. It’s an automatic hydraulic press, but it’s putting on too much pressure, forcing us to set the pressure lower and lower to make up for the problem. It should be on level five or six; it’s on level two.

Lately, the press has been destroying part of the motor if left to its own devices, and to account for that, we have some stiffened paper as a shield to protect the delicate part from being ruined. This is causing the machine to kind of fault out at times because the sensor isn’t reading the motor correctly. There are two options at this point: fix the pressure issue or fix it to where it won’t fault out.

I’ve put work orders in for this the entire week. It was running fine and just decided to stop running fine. There’s been no change in the settings I can see; it looks like a timing issue, which the head of maintenance agrees with. He sends out one of the workers that I can’t stand.

This man is convinced he’s the smartest person in the room and you won’t tell him otherwise.

Maintenance: “So, the cause of this is this paper here.”

Me: “Yes, I’m aware that’s the most likely cause. If I don’t have it in there, the press will eat the leads, and we lose time by sending them back to be redone, then repressed, and then probably sent back again.”

Supervisor: “Is there anything you can do to patch it up for now? It needs to be fixed, but it’s the end of the shift. Can we run it for the last forty-five minutes?”

Maintenance: “Yeah, I can do that. As long as people don’t mess with settings without knowing what they’re doing, it’s fine.”

I feel like this is a personal jab at me, but I take it. I don’t care; I just want to run my machines without issue. My supervisor leaves and [Maintenance] begins to work.

Maintenance: “You know, I checked the logs. You’re the only person who calls us out to fix it every time it messes up a little. No one but you has this problem.”

Me: “Uh-huh.”

I continue to take it, not telling him that I can see those logs, too, and I can see where every person who runs this machine puts in for various major issues they won’t come out to fix. I also happen to be the ONLY woman who runs this kind of machine in my area.

He runs a few motors, causing the exact problems I’ve been having, proving my need to have the stiffened paper in place. He comes up with the genius idea that it’s a timing issue, and the upper press isn’t putting on enough pressure. I say absolutely nothing to him about it because what do I know?

He sets the pressure to three and I walk a short distance away. He runs the press, and there is the LOUD noise of metal snapping.

Me: “It broke a bolt! The machine’s down. I’m done for the night. It’s not running again!”

He pulls the completely destroyed core out of the press to see that it’s snapped a major bolt.

Me: “This is what happens when people mess with the settings without knowing what they’re doing.”

He gave me a look and repaired it fairly quickly. He set the pressure back to two, put another motor in, and ran the press. It snapped that new bolt at once, meaning he had made the problem WORSE.

Ten minutes to the end of the shift, I told my supervisor I would not be in the next day and went to talk to a friend of mine for the last little bit of work.