The Joke That Killed Itself

, , , , , | Learning | October 18, 2017

(As I am leaving a trumpet lesson, I sling my backpack onto my shoulders, followed by my trumpet case, which has a shoulder strap, and a messenger bag that I carry my music folder around in, since it is too large for my backpack. I now have a bag over each shoulder, in addition to my backpack. I make some little quip about how much stuff I had to carry, and my teacher chuckles.)

Teacher: “Ha. Yeah, you look like a suicide bomber.”

(Having no idea how to respond, I said something like, “Ha, okay,” and promptly left.)

Roommate And Chemicals Don’t Mix

, , , , , , , , , | Friendly | October 17, 2017

(I have been attending college and just moved into my first apartment. I am a slightly older student, and so I asked for an older roommate. I am there for one month, and my roommate proceeds to give me the cold shoulder the entire time. Finally, after three and a half weeks, he starts to warm up to me. One Thursday night, I invite my friends over to hang out. My roommate decides to join us, and they begin playing a drinking game. I do not drink, so I am drinking water. Everyone gets drunk pretty quickly.)

Friend #1: “I’m hungry. Do you have any snacks? Anything sweet?”

Me: “Yeah, there’s some ice cream in the fridge; help yourself!”

Friend #2: “I want some ice cream!”

Roommate: “You can’t have any ice cream; you’ll throw up. Don’t make me take care of you tonight.”

Friend #2: “I’ll be fine!”

Friend #1: “Yeah, she didn’t drink that much.”

Roommate: “Whatever, man…”

Me: *to my friend* “Hey, I might have something for your stomach…”

(As I try and ask if [Antacid] or [Motion Sickness Medicine] would work, my roommate loses his cool. He stands up in his seat and begins screaming at me at the top of his lungs from across the table.)

Roommate:What?! What are you talking about!? Chemicals?! She needs water!

(He jabs his finger in my face to emphasize his point. I am staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. I really don’t handle people screaming at me very well, especially drunk people, and tend to panic or cry.)

Friend #1 & #2: “Woah, you need to calm down.”

Roommate: “NO! SHE’S OFFERING YOU CHEMICALS! What was it you said!?” *I hadn’t named anything yet.* “SHE NEEDS TO DRINK WATER! YOU GOT THAT!? WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH YOU!?”

(He storms off to his room, still screaming at the top of his lungs. As my friends try to talk him down, I shakily stand up and head off to my room. However, doing this seems to irritate my roommate more, and he becomes much louder.)

Friend #2: “You need to stop!”

Roommate: “NO! IF SHE WANTS TO BE IMMATURE, LET HER! I’M THE ONE BEING AN ADULT HERE!”

Me: *turns to look at my roommate* “Can I say something? I’m not leaving because you were wrong. I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking.” *at this point I really just want him to stop screaming* “I left because you’re screaming at me and it’s very rude.”

Roommate: “YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT RUDE!? I KNOW YOU WENT IN MY ROOM!”

Me: “What? I’ve never been in your room.”

Roommate: “WHY IS YOUR VOICE SHAKING?! IF YOU DIDN’T DO IT, WHY THE F*** IS YOUR VOICE SHAKING?!”

Me: “I—”

Roommate: “WHY IS YOUR VOICE SHAKING?!”

Me: “B-because my heart is pounding? You’re screaming at me.”

Roommate: “I’M TRYING TO BE AN ADULT HERE. THIS IS TOO IMMATURE FOR ME. ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR!? I DON’T DEAL WITH LIARS!”

(Then he stormed out of the apartment, stomping so loudly that the floor to our third-floor apartment shook. After this, I was scared of this man and proceeded to go home. I spent the next week quickly moving my stuff out of the apartment and commuting to school, which took two whole hours, one way. I came to find out that he submitted a complaint to the front office within the first day of me living there. It made things very ironic and incredibly creepy when I returned to the apartment at the end of the week and found that not only had he stolen some of my personal belongings from the common area, he had also dug through my personal trash for things to keep. I will be filing a police report tomorrow morning. Guilty conscious much?)

Bird Of (Written) Passage

, , , , | Right | October 17, 2017

(I work at a large department store for a summer job. One day I’m in the pet section when a elderly man in a scooter comes up to me.)

Me: “Hello, sir, how can I help you?”

(The man holds up a bag of birdseed and makes some strange sounds that sound distressed.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I don’t understand. Are you asking me about the bag?”

(The man makes a few more sounds I can’t understand and hands me the bag.)

Me: “Is there something wrong with the bag?”

(More noises from the man. I look over the bag and find nothing wrong with it.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir; I don’t understand what you want from me.”

(The man takes out a pad of paper and starts writing. He holds out the pad and it reads, “birdseed.”)

Me: *now a little distressed* “Yes, this is birdseed, but I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

(The man continues to make noises and write things down on his note pad. I’m still very lost about what he wants from me. Several scribbled notes later, I decide that he’s asking me where the birdseed is so I take him to the pet food aisle and point to the bird seed.)

Me: “Is this what you’re looking for, sir?”

(The man doesn’t even look at the shelf and only keeps writing in his note pad. It goes back and forth like this for a while, and it’s starting to get to the end of my shift.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir. I’m sorry, but my shift is over. I can direct you to another employee if you like.”

(The man just made a happy sound, took the bag of birdseed he’d handed to me, and left. Throughout our hour-long exchange I learned he was 63 years old, had three kids and two were married. I never found out what he was asking me about the birdseed.)

Boy Bothered By Bonus Brother

, , , , | Learning | October 17, 2017

(It’s “Meet the Teachers” night at the high school. Due to a large age gap with our children, we are attending for the first time in a long time. We get to the language teacher’s classroom. He was a favorite with my older children and their friends. The teacher loved these kids, and has an awesome sense of humor.)

Teacher #1: “Welcome. My name is Mr. [Teacher #1], and I teach languages. This should be the parents of the first year German students. It looks like you are all new to the school, correct?” *notices us* “Oh! No, I see some repeat offenders.”

Me: “Yes, you do. I should start by saying I’m sorry. I let my son spend his summer with his brothers and Mr. [Teacher #2]. I’m really sorry.”

Teacher #1: “You should be. He’s been telling horrible jokes and repeating terrible things.”

Me: “Yeah, I suspected as much.”

Teacher #1: “You really shouldn’t have let him spend time with them.”

Husband: “We know, but it’s hard, since he lives in the same house as his brothers.”

Teacher #1: “And Mr. [Teacher #2]? You really owe me for that.”

Husband: “Well, he is our bonus kid.”

Teacher #1: “Fine. But be aware; I take cash, checks, credit cards…”

(We laughed and he turned to look at the rest of the room. All of the new parents were staring and looking very worried. That was the day I realized my kid went to school with the children of humorless people.)

In Starch Contrast To Medical Advice

, , , , , , | Right | October 17, 2017

(I work as a receptionist at a hotel. The bar in our lobby serves food as well as drinks. I am working the night shift. It is around 3:00 am when I get this call:)

Me: “Front desk, how may I help you?”

Guest: “Hi, can you connect me through to the bar?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, the bar closes at 11:00 pm.”

Guest: “Well, my daughter is having an allergic reaction, so we’d like some French fries.”

Me: *baffled* “Your daughter is having an allergic reaction… and you want French fries?”

Guest: “Yes.”

Me: “I think you should get her an ambulance.”

Guest: “No, it’s fine. We just need some French fries.”

Me: “I really think you should get her an ambulance. Besides, there is no one at the bar at this hour. How would French fries even help?”

Guest: *somewhat condescendingly* “Well, French fries are made of starch, and starch will help fight the allergy.”

Me: “Well, the deep fryer requires special training to operate. I couldn’t get you fries even if I wanted to. Again, I implore you to call an ambulance.”

Guest: *talking to someone else in the room* “He wants us to call an ambulance.” *click*

(They didn’t call again after that. No ambulance arrived. I hope his daughter was okay. I never heard of starch helping with allergies, and I couldn’t find anything on Google to support this.)

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