Sounds Like Evidence In A Future Legal Case, But Okay…

, , , , , | Right | November 30, 2019

(I see this unfold while helping at the donation door of my thrift store. A woman is donating what looks like a full camping set for one person: a tent, a sleeping bag, various camping accessories, etc.)

Customer: “I went camping with my boyfriend and came back single.”

Me: “Um…”

(After the customer leaves…)

Coworker: “Yeah, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all!

(A day later…)

Coworker: “Remember the lady who ‘came back single’?”

Me: “Yes?”

Coworker: “She says she accidentally donated a shovel and pickaxe…. and wants them back.”

Me: *pause* “We’re going to be talking to a police officer who has many, many questions, aren’t we?”

(My coworker did return the shovel and pickaxe to her, after taking care to be the only one to handle them. I’m not even sure whether the lady just phrased it wrong, or whether there’s a shallow grave somewhere nearby. It’s been a few weeks, and no one has come up missing in the local news yet, so I’m hoping it was just bad phrasing.)

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When You Are Bugged To Go To The Doctor

, , , , , , | Healthy | November 27, 2019

When I’m in high school, I come down with a bad fever and my mother takes me to the doctor. I’m still seeing a pediatrician at this point. The building the office is in is undergoing construction.

Pretty soon I’m in the examination room, my mom sitting to the side. The doctor is a young woman, wearing a gauzy green sweater and some light gold jewelry. I notice a very shiny, pretty brooch shaped like a scarab pinned to her sweater.

She leans in with the tongue depressor, and as I watch in horror, the “brooch” sticks out a barbed leg and starts crawling up her shoulder! I scream and throw myself back. 

“Are you okay?” asks the doctor. She thinks I’m scared of the tongue depressor. 

There’s a huge bug on you!” I yell. 

This sets the doctor off. She shrieks, drops the tongue depressor, and starts frantically trying to brush the bug off her sweater. In the process, she breaks her necklace, sending bits of golden chain flying across the room. Part of it hits me and I think it’s the bug, so I scream again and the cycle begins anew. 

Eventually, the doctor calms down a little, but we’re still trying to find the bug. She turns around and I spot it on her shoulder and yell, “It’s still there!” This time she holds still and my mom gets it off her with a tissue and squishes it in the garbage can. 

Once everyone’s calmed down, Mom comments that she should have saved it, or at least not crushed it, since it was actually very pretty. She thought I was having a hallucination until she saw it herself! We figure it got in from all the construction downstairs. The rest of the appointment goes fine, though the doctor and I are a bit shaken up; my mom is pretty level-headed. 

When we check out, the nurse at the desk asks what happened. We tell her and she laughs and says, “We get a lot of screaming in this office, but usually it’s not from the doctors!”

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Yogi Bear Had It Better Than Yugo(slavia) Bear

, , , , | Friendly | November 25, 2019

(My mom has been going to the same hairstylist for years. The stylist is from the Balkans and still has family there. They know quite a lot about each other’s lives, but every now and then they surprise each other. Easter is around the corner, so the conversation turns to food.)

Mom: “We are making perogies this year for the entire family. It takes a lot of work, but they taste way better than store-bought.”

Stylist: “Oh, yes, we make them, too. They are like perogies, but a bit different.”

Mom: “Oh? What do you stuff them with, cheese?”

Stylist: “Sometimes, but usually we would stuff them with beer.”

Mom: *confused* “How do you do that? Fry them in beer?”

Stylist: “No! Beer! You know, grr!” *raises her hands, imitating claws*

Mom: “Oh, bear. Wait, with bear?!

Stylist: “It’s pretty good, and means one less bear looking for Easter dinner!”

(The stylist’s family was apparently much more rural than we thought.)

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Play Possum Until It’s Gone

, , , , , , | Right | November 23, 2019

(I work maintenance for a property management company and often carry a work phone to take after-hours maintenance calls.)

Me: “[Company] repair line, this is [My Name]; what can I do for you?”

Tenant: “Miss [My Name], you aren’t going to believe this. There’s a baby possum in my house. Can you send someone out to come to get him?! I’m scared he’s gonna come up my stairs and climb in my bed or something while I’m sleeping!”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “Unfortunately, ma’am, due to state laws, none of our pest control specialists can remove it. You’re going to have to call the Department of Fish and Game and see if they can come out and remove him.”

Tenant: “Are you sure you can’t send someone out sooner?”

Me: “I’m sure, ma’am. It would be illegal.”

Tenant: “Okay. I don’t think they’re open right now so I guess I’ll have to call them in the morning. Miss [My Name]?” 

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Tenant: “Possums can’t climb stairs, can they?”

Me: “I think you should be safe if it’s small enough.”

Tenant: “Okay. Okay, thank you, Miss [My Name].” 

(She called me the next morning to tell me the saga of how her neighbor came over and managed to herd the baby possum out of her home.)

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Right Bad Back At Ya

, , , , , | Healthy | November 23, 2019

(I am in the waiting room of a hospital waiting for a scan to check out my back injury. For the purposes of this story, let’s just say that my name is John Smith. The nurse calls me in for my scan.)

Nurse: “All right, just jump up onto the table.”

Me: “Umm… sorry, I can’t do that.”

Nurse: “We can’t do the scan if you don’t get on the table.”

Me: “But… I can barely move. How do you expect me to jump onto a table?”

Nurse: “Sure, you can.”

Me: “I don’t think you understand. I am physically unable to get up onto the table due to a back injury.”

Nurse: “You don’t have a back injury.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure I would know why I’m at the hospital.”

Nurse: “Your name is John Smith, right?”

Me: “Yes.”

Nurse: “And your date of birth is [date]?”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

(A patient in the waiting room speaks up.)

Patient: “Sorry to interrupt, but I think you might have us confused.”

Nurse: “Your name is John Smith?”

Patient: “Yep.”

Nurse: “And I suppose your date of birth is also [date].”

Patient: “Yes.”

Nurse: “And you’re here for a scan?”

Patient: “Yes, I am.”

Nurse: “Well, this is an interesting coincidence.”

(She looks down at her computer.)

Nurse: “Ah, I see the problem. There are two different people named John Smith with the same birthday, who just happened to both have appointments for a scan within the same hour. I was looking for John M. Smith.”

Patient: “That’s me!”

(The nurse apologized and I got my scan not long after. It was a confusing few minutes, but at least I got a good story out of it!)

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