Been Waiting For 25 Years To Say That

, , , , , | | Friendly | July 19, 2019

I’ve recently gotten a job at a motor factory in the connecting department. Both connectors I work with are originally from Vietnam, and both are old enough to be my parents.

The woman and I talk quite a bit, as it’s easier for me to get physically get close enough for us to hear each other over the noise while still working, and one day she says, “You just look so familiar to me, and I don’t know why.”

I honestly can’t think why I would look familiar to her. I ask if she frequented a job I had at a convenience store for nearly ten years, but she hadn’t. We can’t think of any other reason and just shrug it off.

After a few weeks, we’re talking about music, and I mention that I took piano lessons for ten years, and that I ended up quitting lessons because I hated the recitals. She is mostly impressed that I kept with the lessons for so long, and she tells me about her oldest daughter who tried to take lessons for a few years but just never got into it.

I mention the music school I used to attend for private lessons and she actually pauses in what she’s doing to look at me again and she says, “You’re the little girl from [Music School]! You used to sit with me in the waiting room; my daughter had lessons with [Teacher] before you!”

Over 25 years later, and she still remembered me as “the little girl who sat in the waiting room with her.”

She Will Shake Away The World

, , , , , , | | Healthy | July 19, 2019

(My seven-year-old daughter was recently tested for ADHD, which means she and I have to go back to the psychiatrist’s office two weeks later to review the results. While I am talking with the psychiatrist, my daughter is sitting on the floor playing with an Etch-a-Sketch. The psychiatrist is explaining to me that although my daughter does now have an ADHD diagnosis, she wasn’t able to specify a subtype. Specifically, the tests are less accurate with exceptionally bright children because if a task is designed to take ten minutes but the child solves the problem in two, the test is only able to measure two minutes’ worth of attention span instead of the ten it was supposed to.)

Psychiatrist: “So, it’s clear that your daughter’s brain is working on a different level than her teacher expects–”

Daughter: *interrupting* “Mom, look! Can you guess what I drew?”

(She’d gotten almost the entire Etch-a-Sketch screen to be black.)

Me: “Um… a black bear at night?”

Daughter: “MOM. No, it’s the void! And now I’m going to magically make the void disappear…” *shakes Etch-a-Sketch* “There, now I’ve deleted that dimension.”

Psychiatrist: “So, as I was saying… different level.”

A Message From The Dead

, , , , , | | Healthy | July 18, 2019

My sister was a nurse in the geriatric ward of a hospital. Once, when she was doing the night shift, a patient died in his sleep due to old age. The normal procedure would be to get the bed out of the room on the corridor and someone from pathology would come up and collect it. The problem here was that the patient’s death was noticed around five or six in the morning and pathology had a shift change, so it would take longer as usual for someone to come up.

My sister and the other nurse present were worried that some of the early bird patients would wander the corridor and notice the body, so they decided to move the bed to the nurse’s room. The other nurse went on to respond to a patient’s call and my sister started preparing the morning medications for the patients.

Now, I assume everybody is familiar with rigor mortis? The body getting stiff after death? Well, that’s not a process that happens immediately. It takes some time, sometimes up to two days, until the whole body is stiff.

So, my sister was moving around in the small nurse’s office and preparing the medications, doing what you need to do for that. Occasionally, she would bump into the bed a little bit. Finally, the dead had enough of his disturbed peace and his hand slid out under the blanket, giving my sister a slap right on her backside.

The whole ward was awake after that.

Never Tried Fast Food Before

, , , | | Right | July 17, 2019

(I work at an independent fast food restaurant. An older couples walk in.)

Me: “Hi! Welcome to [Restaurant]. How may I help you?”

Wife: “Table for two.”

Me: “You actually order up here, and then seat yourself wherever you’d like!”

Wife: *very displeased* “How would I order up here with no menu? And how are we supposed to know where to sit if you don’t show us?”

Me: “We actually have our menu right above the register here; it has everything we serve o—”

Wife: “No. This isn’t proper. I want us to be seated with menus, like a real restaurant.”

(The husband sighs and mouths, “Sorry,” to me.)

Me: “Ma’am, we’ll take your order up here and then bring it out to you when it’s ready.”

Husband: *very upset with her* “Please just order, dear. Don’t argue with the young man about the tables.”

Wife: “No, I want to speak to your manager.”

(I go back to our office space to get her.)

Manager: “Hi. What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

Wife: “Your restaurant doesn’t have hosts or menus.”

Manager: “Yup! You’re allowed to seat yourself here, and our menu is up h—”

Wife: “NO. I want a real menu!”

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have personal menus here.”

Wife: “What an awful place. I don’t see how you have any customers. [Husband], let’s go to the car!”

Husband: “I’ll use the restroom, quick, and then I’ll be out, dear.”

(She scoffs at me and my manager and leaves.)

Husband: “I’m so sorry. Please take this; I know customers like her are hard.”

(He gave me and my manager a $25 tip a piece. He now comes in to get food without her and is one of my favorite customers!)

If That’s Molesting It, What Do You Call Eating It?

, , , , , , | | Friendly | July 17, 2019

(I am ten years old. My mother sent me into the shop to pick up milk. After getting the milk, I notice that only one till is open. The woman in front of me has one yogurt on the conveyor. I put down a divider and my milk. At no point do I touch the SINGLE yogurt that this woman has on the conveyor.)

Woman: “Excuse me, did you just molest my yogurt?”

Me: “Sorry, what?”

Woman: “You moved my yogurt!”

Me: “Okay… Sorry. I didn’t but…”

Woman: “It’s not okay! You molested my yogurt!”

Me: “I didn’t. I just want to buy this milk. My mum’s waiting.”

Woman: “You can’t just do that! You can’t just touch other people’s yogurt!”

(Another cashier opened a till, and thankfully I was able to buy my milk and escape unscathed.)