They Need To Be Batter Prepared For College

, , , , | Learning | September 18, 2017

(I just moved into one of the freshmen dorms at my university. This dorm has a tiny kitchen on the ground floor off the main room, and I go there my first night to fill up my water filter. There’s a group of other residents already there, haphazardly baking cupcakes to celebrate moving in.)

Girl #1: “How much time until those pans are done?”

Guy #1: *checking the oven* “Um… a couple more minutes? Wait, oh man! We don’t have any oven mitts, do we?! Guys, how will we get the pans out?!”

Me: *watching him freak out* “Do you have kitchen towels?”

Guy #1: “Huh? Yeah, we have a couple.”

Me: “Just use those as mitts.”

Guy #1: “…wow. You’re right. Thanks!”

Girl #2: “Crap, we’re going to have so many cupcakes. We don’t have space to store all of them, do we?”

Girl #1: “I mean, there’s no way we’re eating them all tonight. Should we leave them in here?”

Me: “You could give them to your friends, or just hand them out around the dorm.”

Girl #2: “Oh, yeah, that would be nice! Let’s do that.”

Guy #2: “Uh, guys, look how much batter we still have. It’s going to take all night to make these.”

Guy #1: “Aw, geez, we made way too much… but we can’t just throw it all away. What do we do?”

Me: *now staring at them* “Are we allowed to put stuff in the fridge?”

Girl #2: “Yeah. I mean, I don’t see why not. It’s here, after all.”

Me: “So, why not cover the bowl and put it in the fridge for tonight? You can bake the rest tomorrow when you have more time.”

Guy #1: *looking at the fridge like I just revealed the secret to life* “Man, you’re so smart!”

Me: “…Thanks.”

(These are the students this university accepted. I am currently questioning my life choices.)

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Unfiltered Story #93726

, | Unfiltered | September 17, 2017

(I work the reception desk for one of the University’s smaller departments. One day in my first year I get a call from a man trying to meet with an academic adviser. Recently our main adviser left and we’ve been transferring calls to another department that’s helping us out while we hire a new one. This week, well before the semester starts, that adviser is on vacation).
Caller: I need to speak with an adviser.
Me: Certainly. Advisement is being handled by [other department] right now, let me transfer you.
Caller: No, i already called him and they said he wasn’t and didn’t say when he’d be back.
Me: Well then you’ll have to email him.
Caller: i did that, but he hasn’t responded.
(As my father is also an adviser and was a teacher for many years, I start to lose sympathy for this guy who thinks he can just interrupt someone’s vacation).
Me: I apologize, but there’s really nothing more I can do for you. I’m sure [adviser] will get back to you as soon as he’s able.
Caller: Well can you give me his home number so I can get in touch with him?
(I’m so shocked by the lunacy of the request that I don’t even think to respond “no that’s not allowed.”)
Me: I’m sorry I don’t have that information.
Caller: (Now growing irate) You work with him every day and you don’t know his home phone number?
(Still new to this, I freeze up again trying to process everything wrong with what he’s saying).
Me: No.
(The caller hangs up irately. I tell my boss when she gets back and she has a good gripe about how some of these people shouldn’t have even been admitted to the university).

Unfiltered Story #93715

, | Unfiltered | September 16, 2017

I, and two friends, went to visit a friend in the hospital. We knew his room number, but it didn’t correlate to the floor he was on, so we headed back down to reception to find that out.

When we got there, there were three people ahead of us. The first, I never consciously registered at all (I don’t even know if it was man or a woman). The other two were a couple that I subconsciously tagged as “trailer park trash.” My subconscious was very alert that day.

The first person finished up and walk out the door. Mr. Trailer Park Trash then proceeded to rip into the receptionist (who was in a security guard uniform) because they hadn’t been speaking English. (At least half the population of Orange County speaks Spanish, if not natively, very, very fluently, like most of southern California).

Now, at this point, I realized several things. First, this guy was showing off for his women (who didn’t look particularly impressed), probably in hopes of getting some later that night. Second, he was showing what a manly man he was in front of the strangers (who were less impressed than his wife). Third, he was taking out life’s frustrations on the receptionist because she’s not allowed to tell him off. And fourth, that I didn’t feel like standing there for the next 20 minutes while this loser acted like a child. So I offered my opinion:

Me: “I think the basic problem here is that you’re an a**hole.”

Him: “You think I’m an a**hole because I think they should speak English?”

Me: “Yes. That’s why I think you’re an a**hole.”

He proceeded to offer up every racist justification in the book, and in reply to each one, I said “And you’re an a**hole.” He had no idea how to respond to that.

(My two friends were thinking, “Oh, God, we’re going to get into a fist fight.” But I knew better. This guy was, as they say, all mouth and no pants. If I’d called him the racist he was, yeah, he’d have started throwing punches – I’m sure he’s suffered a lot in life for his racism, but he just had no idea how to react to being called an a**hole. Plus, there were three of us and one of him, and his wife looked like she’d hold him down for us.)

After about 30 seconds of being reminded just what part of the human anatomy he was, he got disgusted and left, with his wife looking like he wasn’t going to get any for many years to come.

I didn’t notice it at the time, but apparently the receptionist/security guard spent the entire time trying desperately not to laugh, and nearly succeeding. I sincerely hope she went home and told her family the story over dinner – in Spanish.

Still Learning To Adapt

, , , , , | Right | September 15, 2017

(I work as a technician, fixing video games, computers, and phones. A customer comes in with a laptop that needs its track-pad reconnected. He gives me the computer, but no power cord.)

Me: “Sir, do you have the power adapter for this?”

Customer: “Oh, sure.” *hands me a wireless mouse*

Me: “Not quite…”

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Minimum Wage And Comprehension

, , , , , | Working | September 15, 2017

(I’m the manager of a small copy center, which is part of a larger store. The store manager refuses to pay more than minimum wage for the work that needs doing in my department, and therefore, our only applicants for open positions are the sorts of people who have never used any of the print machinery before and are just in need of any old job they can get. We go through employees like crazy, because none of them can seem to learn everything that’s needed to work effectively in the department. Customers complain, important and high-dollar print orders are ruined, turn-around times or prices are botched, we’re left bending over backwards to make the problems right with the customers, and the new hires are let go. Rinse, and repeat. The most recent new hire takes the cake…)

Me: “Okay, [New Hire]. I need to go take my lunch break really quick. All I need you to do is take the packages out of THIS box, and put them into THIS cabinet.”

(Note that I have put the box beside the indicated cabinet, and I have showed her both the box and the cabinet she needs to put things into. It’s a super simple task, but having the new hire handle it will help her familiarize herself with how we handle delivered supplies, and where this particular product belongs in the shop. I ask the new hire if she’s okay if I leave for lunch. She says, “Yep!” and off I go to my lunch. Thirty minutes later, when I return, the box is still sitting where I left it, full.)

Me: “Uh, [New Hire], was the department busy while I was away?”

New Hire: “No.”

Me: “So… what happened to putting the packages into the cabinet?”

New Hire: “…I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do.”

(After a couple more attempts at explaining, I actually had to take a ream of paper from the box, open the cabinet, and put it on the shelf before she grasped what I meant. And this gal was a high school graduate who had just started college!)

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