Pull Your Socks Up

, , , , , , | Related | November 11, 2017

(My brothers and I never really believed in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, etc, but we did have “fjøsnisser” — small, gnome-like creatures who live in barns and stables — in the garage. They get blamed for things like socks going missing, and things that aren’t where you left them. Mom is also convinced that ghosts exists. I’m visiting for the week, and one afternoon the two of us are sitting in the living room downstairs when we hear a sound from upstairs. This is not unusual, and is just the house settling.)

Me: “It almost sounded like someone walking upstairs. Maybe it was a ghost.”

Mom: “Don’t be silly; we don’t have ghosts.”

Me: “Okay, so, it was a ‘fjøsnisse,’ then.”

Mom: “Sounds about right. You should go make sure you’re not missing something.”

Accio Freckles!

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 11, 2017

(Like many redheads, I have freckles, but the darkest ones are on my arms. I’m sitting in a comic shop with my husband and some friends, waiting for the [Trading Card Game] event to start, when a guy that’s new to the area starts talking to me.)

Guy: “So… is your hair naturally red?”

Friend: “[Guy]! That’s rude!”

Me: *waving it off* “I get asked that all the time.” *to the guy* “Yeah, it is.”

Guy: “Well, then, why are your eyebrows brown?”

Me: *shrugging* “I dunno. They were nearly the same color as my hair when I was younger, but as I’ve gotten older, my hair’s gotten brighter and brighter to the point it looks closer to orange, whereas my eyebrows have gone more auburn.”

Guy: “Where are your freckles? I thought redheads had freckles?”

(Upon hearing this, my husband, who has been having a totally different conversation, grabs my arm, holds it up, and points at the freckles.)

Husband: “If she doesn’t have freckles, what are those? Chickenpox?”

Guy: *shaking his head* “No, I meant on her face.”

Me: *waving my hand in front of my face* “Yes, I do have freckles on my face. They’re just super light.”

(The guy’s eyes suddenly bug out as he stares at my face.)

Guy: *gasps* “Witchcraft! You didn’t have freckles a minute ago!”

Me: *chuckles* “Yes, I did. You just didn’t see them.”

Guy: *skeptical* “I guess.”

(He gets up and wanders away, and my husband laughs.)

Husband: “I think if you were a witch, you’d do more interesting tricks than that, right?”

Me: “D*** straight. I’d make my hair literally fiery. Like Chandra’s.”

Sexism Is The Kicker

, , , , , | Working | November 10, 2017

(My coworker and I both work overnight, and we are swapping stories.)

Coworker: “So, has any customer acted all crazy with you at night?”

Me: “Let me see… Oh, yeah! Once, it was around midnight, and I heard a loud bang, bang, bang on the glass door, and the customer was trying to put her foot through it!”

Coworker: “That’s it?”

Me: “Well, yeah. I mean, it was scary loud! You never had one like that?”

Coworker: “Oh, yeah, but that’s not scary.”

Me: “Then what’s the scariest thing for you?”

Coworker: “One time a creepy guy was wandering around, staring at me through the window! I called the police!”

Me: “And that’s scarier than someone trying to kick down a door?”

Coworker: “Well, he was a guy, and yours was a girl!”

(We’re both female, but I still think mine was scarier, even if it was a girl. Girls can be scary when violent.)

Too Much Coffee Will Kill You

, , , , | Right | November 10, 2017

(I work as a cashier at a coffee chain. One night, when things are relatively quiet, a middle-aged couple comes in.)

Customer: “Okay, weird request: can I have an empty cup?”

(I have no problem with this, and it is a routine question, especially when it gets hot and people want to give water to their dogs.)

Me: “Oh, sure! We actually have a bowl, if that would be better.”

(The man considers it before deciding on the cup. He asks if I have anything larger, and I say that we do, but it would be clear plastic for a cold drink, not a paper hot-drink cup. The couple considers this.)

Me: “Are you trying to pour something hot or cold?”

Customer: “Well, we’ll be putting someone’s ashes in it.”

(Bewildered, and hoping I misheard, I offered him a lid for the cup he had chosen, and he left with his wife, tipping as he left.)

School Can Open Doors

, , , , | Working | November 10, 2017

(I live in a very small town. My car is hit and sustains damage on the passenger side. I take it to the only auto body shop in town for repairs. I pick it up on Friday. On Sunday evening I chaperone an event at the high school.)

Student: “Hey, Mrs. [My Name]. My dad’s outside.”

Me: “Why? You guys are supposed to be done at 10:00. It’s only 9:30.”

Student: “I don’t know. I’ll text him.”

(Several minutes pass.)

Student: “That’s weird. My dad never answered, and now his car is gone.”

Me: “He’ll probably be back at 10:00.”

(We finish up and I dismiss the other kids. It’s now 10:15 and there is no sign of the student’s dad.)

Me: “Did you try calling him?”

Student: “Yeah. It went to voicemail. I guess I can walk.”

Me: “I can take you. Why don’t you take my car keys and these boxes and go get in the car. I’ll be there as soon as I lock up here.”

(He takes the keys and goes off to the parking lot. I turn off the lights and lock up and head to the car. When I get there, the student is standing next to the car, looking perplexed.)

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Student: “Your key doesn’t do anything. I put it in the lock and it spins all the way around and doesn’t unlock the door.”

(I try the passenger door and find he’s correct. I try the driver’s door and it works fine. I reach across and open his door. As we are driving to his house:)

Student: “You know, my dad can probably fix that. He owns a body shop.”

Me: “I know. I just got my car back from your dad’s shop on Friday. He fixed the passenger side. I guess he forgot to reattach the lock.”

(By the time I get home after dropping off the student, I have a voice mail.)

Student’s Dad: “Hi. This is [Student’s Dad]. Thanks for dropping off [Student]. If you can come to the shop in the morning, I will fix your door. I’m really sorry. Um, just tell the girls at the desk you need to see me. They, uh, don’t need to know why.”

(I guess he was embarrassed to admit to his staff what happened!)

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