Could Have Become A Powder Keg

, , , , | Legal | February 5, 2019

Years ago, after my first husband passed away, I was cleaning out his closet and found some half-used cans of various gunpowders used for making his own ammunition.  

I figured I wouldn’t be able to sell it once it was opened, and didn’t know anyone at that time who made their own bullets, so I decided to give it to the firearms officer at our local police station.

Standing in line for my turn, there was only one other person waiting: a very large biker guy with full-colour leathers who was behind me.

When it was my turn, I approached the desk with my arm outstretched holding a large, brown paper bag. “I need to give you this gun powder,” I said.

The lady’s eyes grew large as she stepped back. At the same time, I notice the large biker guy out of the side of my eye moving slowly back toward the door. “Let me get someone,” she said, ditching around the corner.

In that moment, I realized it probably was not a very smart move bringing a bag of gun powder into the police station unannounced. Ultimately, they decided to accept it as a ‘Lost and Found’ object and let me go on my way. Note to self…

Smells Like Trouble

, , , , | Right Romantic | February 4, 2019

(As I’m getting to the end of my evening shift, I check out this lady on her phone. It goes fairly well — she’s communicating with me and such — and then a jerk customer comes in and talks about how good she smells.)

Creepy Customer: “Hey, ma’am, you smell so amazing! I could smell you all over the store, and here you are!”

Lady: *talking to the person on the phone* “This guy here is smelling me.”

(I can’t hear the person on the other end, but I’m sure they ask where she is. I’m assuming it’s her husband.)

Lady: “I’m checking out at the store.”

Creepy Customer: “Hey, lady, some people would take that as a compliment!” *puts his arms around her*

Lady: *pushes him away, and has this look on her face while she pays and leaves*

Me: *starts checking out said creep, not saying one word as I am watching what he does*

Creepy Customer: *starts shouting his number*

Me: *holding a heavy case of beer* “Please, one sec.”

Creepy Customer: *still saying the number over and over*

Me: *starts bagging*

Creepy Customer: *grabs my arm* “Hey, I like your watch! Give me your watch. Haha.”

Me: *jerks back fast, giving him a look*

Creepy Customer: *gets annoyed and has his friend pay*

Me: *asks another cashier to get a manager and fast*

(I had to stay late so I could inform the manager and report the creepy jerk. The manager took a look at the cameras to know what the creep looked like so he could tell the other managers. No, I don’t think the creepy jerk was drunk. The only thing I could smell was my lotion, and that’s probably what he could smell.)

School Is Not Much Of An Improvement Over Hospital

, , , | Healthy | February 1, 2019

(I’m a nurse in a smallish community hospital. A number of our patients are awaiting placement in long-term care and aren’t acutely ill. However, because they’re living in a germy hospital, they’re inclined to pick up bugs, and older folks with cognitive decline can get intensely confused with any sort of infection. One morning, one of our longtime patients, an older, bedridden lady, starts telling us all that she’s on a couch in a schoolhouse in a completely different small town and she needs to get back to the hospital. She laughs at us when we try to explain that she’s already in the hospital, and has a shouting match with her husband when he comes in and tries, as well. Later in the day, I’m doing some charting at the nursing station and answer a phone call:)

Me: “[Floor], [My Name] speaking.”

Patient: “Oh, hi. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m not there today; I’m at the school in [Town].”

Me: “[Patient], you are here today. I saw you this morning. I helped with your bath.”

Patient: “No, I’m not. I’m in [town], but I thought I should call in case [Husband] is looking for me.”

Me: “[Patient], your husband was in this morning. To the hospital. Where you are. In room [number]. Look. I’ll walk down the hall to your room.”

Patient: *laughs* “Okay, you do that; I won’t be there, though.”

(I walk down the hall, while talking to the patient on the cordless extension, and into her room. She sees me and continues talking over the phone to me.)

Patient: “Oh, a girl’s here now!”

Me: *hangs up* “[Patient], that’s me; you were just talking to me.”

Patient: *keeps talking into the phone* “See, I’m in [Town] and I need to get back to the hospital!”

(I gave up; she would not be reoriented. Later, I answered a call from our switchboard, who patched through 911. The patient had called them to ask to be returned to the hospital. I had to go back to her room to talk to the 911 dispatch on her phone and cancel the request. Then I disconnected her phone. This patient is recovered and quite lucid once more.)

The Ten Year Challenge Where Nothing Changed

, , , , , | Friendly | February 1, 2019

(It is the late 90s. My grandparents have just moved into a new apartment and we are all hanging out when the telephone rings.)

Caller: *in a strong Argentinian accent* “Alo? I’m looking for Charlie.”

Uncle: “You must have the wrong number; there’s no Charlie here.”

Caller: “Okay. Thank you.”

(We think nothing of that… until 2006. We are all hanging out one last time in the apartment, since the next day my grandparents will move to a new house. The phone rings.)

Caller: *with a strong Argentinian accent* “Alo? I’m looking for Charlie.”

Uncle: “You must have the wrong number; there’s no Charlie here.”

Caller: *suddenly remembering the last phone call* “Che… do you guys still live there?!” *hangs up*

(After all these years, the same guy called the same wrong number while looking for the same person and the same uncle answered him using the exact same words.)

Insert Intelligence Here

, , , , | Right | February 1, 2019

(I am working the cash register, helping a lady who appears to be 50. We are having a nice, normal talk until we get to paying.)

Guest: *pulls out a card from her wallet*

Me: “Oh, I see you have a chip card. Just so you know, we’ve installed chip card readers now.”

Guest: “Oh, okay.”

(She then proceeds to start waving her card around in the air above her head.)

Me: “Miss, you need to insert the card over here.”

Guest: “Oh, I need to insert it somewhere?”

Me: “Umm, yes.”

(To this day I don’t understand how she thought waving her card around would process her payment. The scary part was that she was serious about thinking it would work that way.)

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