Rise Of The Mummory

, , , , | Friendly | October 1, 2017

(I have almost no verbal filter, and, as such, I tend to say the first thing that comes into my head. I also have no shame, and am rarely embarrassed by anything I come out with. One day at school, I am sitting at a table with two friends and we are talking. I am a girl and my friends are both boys.)

Me: “I realised the other day that mums are called mummies because they have mammary glands.”

Friend #1: *puts his head in his hands and gazes downwards for several seconds, finding his voice* “That’s certainly very novel. Want a cookie?”

Me: *grinning* “But…”

(I trail off, not sure where I’m going with this. The conversation turns in a different direction. A few minutes later…)

Me: “But why not call them ‘mummory’ glands? Or ‘mammies’?”

Friend #2: “Just be quiet!”

Friend #1: “You’re listing off a whole bunch of fetishes right now. Like, all of them.”

This Kind Of Weirdness Can’t Fit In A Box

, , , , | Right | September 29, 2017

Customer: “I have six boxes I want to ship. Can you do that?”

Me: “Sure, we can.”

Customer: “Okay. They might be heavy; I have a lot of clothes in them.”

Me: “That’s okay; the max weight for shipping out is 150 pounds.”

Customer: “Oh. I have a lot of cotton clothes. But there’s six boxes.”

Me: “Okay. Do you have them here?”

Customer: “No. But you’ll be able to tell me, right?”

Me: “Tell you what?”

Customer: “Yeah… see, ’cause I have to send all these costumes back, and some of them are heavy, like one of them is 7 pounds on its own, but most of the other clothes are just cotton.”

Me: “…oh.”

Customer: “So, you’ll have an idea, right?”

Me: “An idea of what?”

Customer: “Of the cost.”

Me: “Oh, well I can create an estimate. Where’s it going?”

Customer: “California.”

Me: “Okay, do you have the zip code?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Do you have the address?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “I’ll need one or the other in order to get a proper quote for you. Do you have it saved in your phone or something?”

Customer: “No. But yeah. You can get an idea. Yeah, there’s a lot of clothes that I’m sending, and I’m so mad that I have to send them all back. It’ll probably be 150 pounds once I fill all the boxes.”

(I kind of want her to stop talking, since I don’t even know how to respond to her, so I type in 90210 as the zip code so that I can give her some kind of quote.)

Me: “This quote isn’t totally accurate, because I just put in 90210 for the zip code, but it’s coming up to [price]. That’s for six boxes at this size, all equaling 150 pounds.”

Customer: “WHAT?! That’s so expensive! How much would it cost to send it Canada Post?”

Me: “I’m not sure; you’d have to go to the post office.”

Customer: “Because this guy, his size is like 34x34x34! Like, you’ve got to be joking! So I put the pants on and they come up to my neck! I was so mad! I can’t wear these! They said they’d send me 50 bucks to mail them back, but there’s so many costumes!”

Me: “…oh.”

Customer: “But, oh my gosh, you’ve been so helpful! Thank you so much! Oh my gosh, I’m so happy now! Thanks!”

(She leaves and I turn to my coworker:)
Me: “That was weird.”

Shared Confusion

, , , , , , | Related | September 29, 2017

(I am about fourteen. My mom and I share a weird connection; my dad calls it a “shared brain.”)

Mom: “Hey, [My Name], do you know where the uh… uh…”

Me: “Yeah, Mom, it is next to the uh… uh…”

Mom: “Smart-a**.”

(Pause.)

Mom: “Oh, I found it!. You were right; thanks, [My Name]!”

Dad: “…”

A Very Fibrous Blouse

, , , , | Related | September 29, 2017

(I’m toasting some granola that I made last week, to give it some more crunch. I went to a wedding last night.)

Mom: “What did you wear to the wedding last night?”

Me: *shows Mom my outfit*

Mom: “Oh, that’s a nice blouse.” *sniffs* “What are you eating down here?”

Me: “Some granola.”

Mom: “Oh. Where did you get it?”

Me: “I made it.”

Mom: “You made it?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Mom: “How did you make it?”

Me: “I took some oatmeal and nuts and—”

Mom: “YOU MADE THAT SHIRT OUT OF OATMEAL?”

Me: “What? No. I thought you were talking about the granola. I bought this shirt a few years ago. How would I make a shirt out of oatmeal?”

You Need To Take A Mandatory Break-ing Bad

, , , , , , | Working | September 29, 2017

(My coworkers and I, both teenagers, are finishing up our shift. Our manager notices two empty plastic baggies on the counter.)

Manager: “Anyone know what these baggies are for?”

Coworker: “Meth, probably.”

Manager: “Where’d it all go?”

Me: “We smoked it.”

Manager: “And you didn’t share it with me?!”

Coworker and Me: “Nah.”

Manager: “A**holes. Don’t you know that sharing is caring?”

(We all went back to work.)

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