Hope She Gets A Brain For Christmas

, , , | Right | December 27, 2017

(I work in a grocery store bakery, and today is Christmas Eve, so the store is packed full of customers getting their dinner supplies before we close early. I’m boxing up items for one customer when a second one walks up. She looks at me, looks at my busy coworkers, then turns to the first customer:)

Customer #2: “Excuse me, do you know where [Item] is?”

Customer #1: “Oh. I think it’s on aisle [number].”

(The customer starts walking toward the aisle when she sees the sign above the aisle next to it.)

Customer #2: *angrily* “You said it was on aisle [number], but the sign there says it’s on this one.”

(She finally spotted the item and walked right toward it. Lady, I know we’re stuck in the bakery and don’t know much about the rest of the store, but you still could have tried asking us or looking at the signs in the first place!)

Unfiltered Story #102195

, , , | Unfiltered | December 26, 2017

(It’s a cold night in Dublin. My friend and I were preparing for our 3rd year marching with Santa Clara Vanguard, a drum corps where we spend three months in the summer marching and performing a show with 12-15 hour rehearsals out in the hot sun every day. Since the season is fast approaching, my friend and I are preparing for the physically strenuous season by going to our local supermarket. We have special workout cards, where we write down the workouts that we do in the season. We keep them in our wallets so that we can get in a regimen of them the months leading up to the tour. Also, since the season is almost upon us, we’re wearing our merchandise shirts that we receive for being part of the corps. My friend is buying the chicken for the salad that we’re going to have for dinner, and I’m looking at the lettuce and spinach in the next aisle. Note that he is considerably smaller than me, but still very strong and can endure a lot physically. However, a customer recognizes our corps merchandise.)

Customer: “I see you’re part of a high school band.”

Friend: “Actually, it’s drum corps, which is a lot harder than band. Also, I’m currently studying at UC Berkeley.”

Customer: “Who cares? All of you are just nerds that walk around blowing air into instruments. My five-year-old daughter could do that!” *smirks*

(The customer continues to rant on and on about how it didn’t take any physical strength to do band over the summer and that practically anyone could do it. My friend really loves the activity and I can see his expression change into sadness and a little bit of anger.)

Friend: “Perhaps you’d like to take this up with my friend in the lettuce aisle.”

Customer: “Another scrawny nerd? No problemo.”

Friend: “[My Name], can you come here really quickly?”

(I had partially overheard their conversation, but I didn’t know exactly what was going on. I go over to their aisle. The customer is a burly guy, but I was matched to his size. I happen to have gained biceps and a six-pack from this activity, but we were wearing long-sleeved shirts. The customer couldn’t tell, so he assumed that I was just “another scrawny nerd.” He also has no idea that I also do drum corps.)

Me: “Yeah, [Friend’s Name], what’s up?”

Friend: “This man says his five-year-old daughter could do drum corps and he’s been constantly harassing me about how weak I am.”

Customer: “You couldn’t possibly agree with this nerd. He probably drinks his mother’s milk daily.”

Me: “I would really appreciate it if you could stop making fun of my friend here.”

(I pull out the corps necklace, a necklace given to every person who marches in a corps.)

Customer: “Wow, so you guys are both band nerds? You guys are so weak, I could beat you up right now!”

*he rolls up his sleeves to show me his biceps*

(My friend gets scared. He calmly backs behind me.”

Me: “Weak band nerds, are we? We don’t spend 15 hours a day in the hot sun, marching on our feet the entire day for three straight months to have some burly guy he thinks can beat us up just because he has biceps.”

*I roll down my sleeves to show that my biceps are bigger than his. He starts whimpering a little bit as I inch towards him.*

Customer: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I thought you guys were just dorks who have nothing better to do… I’m really sorry.”

Me: I would show you our abs, but I don’t think we’ll fight someone who just won’t learn from it. If I see you bullying anyone again, I will not hesitate to beat you up. Now get out of here before I start now. In fact, would you like to see our workout cards, which we do daily to ensure that we’re fit enough for the activity?”

Customer: “No… No… I think I’m good.”

(He practically runs out of the store. When the season started again, we told this story multiple times to our corps friends and we found out that one of our local friends had the same man harass him, but he didn’t do anything about it. We agreed to put this all behind us and concentrate on the task at hand, which was working hard to produce a great show.)

Friends That Drink Together, Stick Together

, , , , , | Friendly | December 25, 2017

(We draw names for a Secret Santa gift exchange at work. Two coworkers have been good friends for many years, predating their employment at our car dealership. They used to be housemates, hang out all the time, get their families together, have regular poker nights, take vacations together, etc. One of the best friends opens his present from [Coworker #1]. It is a bottle of his favorite Scotch. He is thrilled, and his best friend is intensely jealous. A few gifts later, it is the other friend’s turn to open his gift. He receives… a bottle of the same Scotch.)

Best Friend #1: ‘How did you know exactly what to get me?’

Coworker #1: “I asked [Best Friend #2].”

Best Friend #2: *to [Coworker #2]* “And how did you know what to get me?”

Coworker #2: “I asked [Best Friend #1].”

Best Friend #2: “So, we both knew the other was getting what we wanted, but not that we were getting the same thing?”

Coworker #2: “Apparently!”

(We all knew they’d probably end up drinking them together, anyway.)

Unfiltered Story #101994

, , , | Unfiltered | December 25, 2017

(My husband and I are doing Christmas shopping at a department store at which he used to work. He knows all of their sales speeches, credit card pitches and protection plan details by heart, even though he hasn’t worked for the company in years. Barring minor changes in the fine print, of course. We finish our shopping and head up to the register. The cashier doesn’t even greet us.)

Cashier: You wanna sign up for a credit card? You could get 5% back on-

Husband: Let me stop you there. I already have a store credit card, thanks.

(The cashier throws a brochure at us and jabs at it with one of her incredibly long, neon green acrylic nails)

Cashier: No, there’s two cards now. You don’t have them both.

Husband: What I had was the store’s original card, and a few months ago they mailed me an offer to switch it from the store brand to the Mastercard labeled card.

Cashier, rudely: They don’t do that.

Husband: Yes, they do. I worked for (company) for a while and I’ve had this card for years. I received the offer in the mail about 6mos ago and switched because it had a better interest rate. I don’t want to apply for a second card from here.

Cashier: They DON’T switch people! It’s one or the other!

Husband: Okay, well — I have some membership points in my account that I’d like to apply to this purchase.

(He holds out his phone with the correct QR code already displayed on the screen for her to scan.)

Cashier: We don’t DO that here.

Husband: …okay then.

(We stand there waiting, because she has got a hold of our receipts and seems unwilling to hand those over. We had to specifically ask for them before she’d let them go. At this point, I’m pissed. I don’t think my eyebrows could have climbed any higher on my face without disappearing into my hairline. As we turned to leave…)

Cashier: I ain’t never heard of no switching people to the Mastercard!

Only So Many Times You Can Dress Up His Issues

, , , , , , | Romantic | December 24, 2017

(My husband is very fond of my breasts, and often has an adverse reaction when I get dressed.)

Me: “Honey, can you give me a hand with my bra?”

Husband: “Oh, all right…”

(He does.)

Husband: “Now you can never claim that I don’t love you.”

Me: “Why not?”

Husband: “I helped you put your boobs away.”