Dying To Get It Done

, , , , , , , | Related | October 21, 2017

(My family has always had a morbid sense of humor. It’s our thing. We’ve also known from a young age that our mother wants to be cremated. My step-dad isn’t as morbid as we are, and after a shopping trip our mom sits down next to us.)

Mom: “So, you know that I want to be cremated right?”

(My sisters and I nod, having known this for more than ten years.)

Mom: “Well, I don’t want to be carried around. I want you to either dump me somewhere or put me in a wall.”

Me: “So, not what we did to [Dog who was cremated].”

Mom: “Yeah, that wasn’t the best decision. Anyway, I read an article about how you can turn the ash into stone.”

Me: *who had seen an article about something similar* “Then we stick it in a sword!”

Mom: “Yeah… No. You stick it in a necklace. That way, each of you can carry me around.”

Me: “I’m totally down for that.”

Sister #1: “That’d be so weird; like, imagine you had your boyfriend who wanted to meet your parents.”

Me: *holding up fake necklace* “You’ve already met my mom! She approves!”

(My mom and sisters start to crack up.)

Sister #2: “Imagine if it was a mood necklace.”

Me: *grinning devilishly* “Here, hold this.” *hands over fake necklace* “Oh, see that color there. That brown means that my mom doesn’t approve. If the color was pink she would approve.”

(We all have a good laugh.)

Mom: “See, [Step-Dad] thought you guys wouldn’t like it.”

Sister #1: “[Mom], you know we’re morbid. Of course we like it.”

Sister #2: “So, who’s paying to have it done?”

Mom: “Can’t you wait until I’m dead?!”

Your Days As A Soldier Are Emergency Numbered

, , , , | Working | October 21, 2017

(I am on a military post, and tonight I am in charge of the barracks, which means checking that everyone is in their quarters by curfew. After knocking on doors, I discover that one soldier is missing. Checking the list of people signed out on leave, his name does not appear. Now, if I cannot make contact with him, I need to report him missing. Pulling up the contact sheet, I dial the number he has listed as his cell phone.)

Me: “Hello, [Soldier]?”

Woman: “No, [Soldier] isn’t here. How can I help you?”

Me: *confused* “Ah, I am trying to call him and learn of his whereabouts. May I ask why you have his cell phone?”

Woman: “This is not his cell phone; this is my phone. You’ve called my house.”

Me: “What?!”

(Checking the list again, I see the soldier has listed the same number for his cell phone and emergency contact, and the number I have just dialed belongs to his mother. I immediately backpedal, not wanting to alarm her.)

Me: “I’m sorry for disturbing you, ma’am, but [Soldier] listed this as his personal number. I need to contact him, as I have to discuss something important with him. If I may ask, do you have his personal number on you?”

Woman: “I don’t give out my son’s number to random people on the phone.”

Me: “Fair enough. Good night, ma’am.” *hangs up*

(Luckily, I found another soldier who had his real cell number. I called him and confirmed that he was on leave and had just forgotten to sign out. When I asked why he gave a false number, he brushed it off as no big deal, saying he didn’t want to be disturbed. I then hung up on him and reported the incident to his Squad Leader.)

That’s… Not How Freckles Work

, , , | Friendly | October 21, 2017

(My mom has this conversation in the grocery store. Bear in mind, we are white and have traced our ancestry back to Germany and Ireland, and my mom is your typical Irish lass: Red hair, green eyes, pale skin, and freckles. She gets a lot of comments on her looks.)

Black Man: “I like your freckles.”

Mom: “Thank you.”

Black Man: “Do you think that’s black pigmentation?”

Mom: *confused* “Um, what?”

Black Man: “You could be a light version of us.”

This Shift Is On Fire Tonight

, , , | Right | October 20, 2017

(I’m working a late night, bored out of my skull, when a well-dressed young man comes in and grabs a candy bar and a soda, etc. When he comes to check out, I’m just trying to be friendly and hope the night ends quickly.)

Customer: “Hey! How are you doing tonight?”

Me: “Oh, fantastic! Yourself?”

(The young man smiles a wry grin and flips out his wallet. A ball of flame a foot high shoots from it, and I’m scared out of my skin, nearly falling over onto the floor.)

Customer: “Just great! Boring night, eh?”

Me: “I, uh… Yeah. Nice and slow.”

(The man snapped his wallet again, and a slightly weaker puff of fire belched out. I caught a glimpse of some kind of mechanism in his wallet. The sale concluded normally, though I asked for a break from my manager to make sure that it really happened, and that my eyebrows hadn’t been singed off.)

That Snow Mountain…

, , , , , , , | Working | October 20, 2017

(My mother is an x-ray technician at a large hospital in Alabama, and it should be noted that she grew up in the Rocky Mountains of Nevada. One day, everyone starts rushing around frantically, and half the staff are heading home early. When she asks, she is told…)

Coworker #1: “I have to get up the mountain before the storm hits!”

Mom: “Mountain? What mountain? And what do you mean, ‘before the storm hits?’”

Coworker #1: “They just announced a snowstorm is going to hit Huntsville, starting in just a few hours. They’ve already cancelled schools and sent the kids home early. But a lot of us live on the other side of the mountain, so we need to get there before the storm hits, or we’ll never make it!”

Mom: “Again, what mountain? There are no mountains around here.”

(After a few more rounds of useless talk, and hearing the weather report for herself, she finally drags the coworker to a window.)

Mom: “What mountain?!”

Coworker #1: “Over there!”

Mom: *squints* “That’s not a mountain. That’s a hill. Maybe. More like a gentle rise.”

(Just then, another hospital employee comes up with a clipboard, looking rather harried.)

Nurse: “Okay, [Mom]… [Mom]…. Oh! Right. Your ride is [Coworker #2], and he’ll be there to pick you up at 5:30 tomorrow.”

Mom: “My ride? I drive myself, thanks. And my shift doesn’t start until 8:00, anyway.”

Nurse: “Oh, I know. But with all the snow, most people won’t be able to make it in. So, we’ve dropped to the bare essential staff, and everyone with four-wheel-drive is going around to pick up everybody else. You’re on [Coworker #2]’s route, and he’ll be there at 5:30.”

Mom: “You do realize I’m from Nevada, right? Rocky Mountains? Snow? My car has front-wheel drive. I’ll be here for my shift. You can take me off the list.”

Nurse: “But you need four-wheel-drive to drive in snow! What if you don’t make it? What if you crash? The ambulances won’t get to you in time!”

Mom: “We’re expecting ‘up to an inch.’ It’s not exactly a blizzard. I’ll be fine. Take my name off the list, because if someone comes pounding on my door at 5:30, my husband and I will not be pleased.”

(Mom left at her normal time and made it home, on the other side of the “mountain,” just fine. A little slow, due to traffic, but fine. The next morning, she likewise made it into work without incident, and was the only person who was well-rested, having slept her normal eight hours, instead of carpooling in hours early.)

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