When In Love, There Is No “Maybe”

, , , , , | Romantic | June 13, 2018

(My 16-year-old sister and her boyfriend are sitting together before church. A young girl who is in the Sunday school class my sister teaches walks up to them. My sister is shy and very easily embarrassed.)

Girl: “Hi, [Sister]! Hey, who’s that?”

Sister: “Oh, this is [Boyfriend].”

Girl: “Oh, okay.” *pauses* “Wait, is he your boyfriend?

Sister: *blushing furiously* “Er… Yes.”

Girl: *delighted* “Are you in love with each other?”

Sister: “Uh… Um… Heh… I really don’t know how to answer that—”

(The girl reaches out and pats her on the shoulder.)

Girl: “You just say yes, or no!”

Drop The Mic, And Only The Mic!

, , , , | Friendly | June 11, 2018

(My church runs parent-child dedications where the family of an infant goes up to the altar and the pastor holds the baby and prays for them. This particular child is handed to him in an odd way, and he drops the microphone. Now he can’t pick it up, because he is cradling the child in both arms. There is an awkward pause, and a kind woman in the congregation hollers:)

Congregant: “Better the mic than the baby!”

Played Them Like A Boss

, , , , , , | Working | June 11, 2018

(My church does live-streams of the services, so they have cameras and sound booths. I want to intern in there, but I know they won’t let me without experience. There are two supervisors with equal power, but they generally never keep things straight with each other. I tell [Boss #1] that [Boss #2] said I could be an intern and tell [Boss #2] that [Boss #1] said that I could. Two months later, I put on my headset before the service starts and I can pick up on a conversation in the other room because the bosses left the microphone on. I hear this gem of a conversation:)

Boss #1: “Wow, [My Name] is picking up on this fast!”

Boss #2: “Yeah, I’m glad you hired her!”

Boss #1: “I thought you did?”

(I never got in trouble, but the awkward silence afterwards was amazing.)

A Flood Of Bizarre

, , , , | Right | May 28, 2018

I am a volunteer working in a shelter that was set up for residents flooded out of their homes after a storm. The waters are receding and the authorities have announced that it is safe for everyone to go back to their houses. An announcement was made in the shelter on Saturday night and signs posted stating that the shelter will close on Tuesday morning.

An elderly woman and her middle-aged daughter have been staying with us since the first night of the floods. They are quiet, very polite, and well-dressed, and they are driving an expensive car. The daughter is employed at a local hospital and we wonder why they have not gone to a hotel. Nobody likes sleeping on cots in a church basement with a bunch of strangers, and it’s unusual for people who have funds to come to the shelter.

On Tuesday morning all the other residents have left but the two women. When the day shift arrives at eight am, these two are washed, dressed, packed, and sitting on folding chairs in the sleeping area. The daughter asks what time does the shelter closes. I tell them we will be officially closing at 9:30.

Note that the workers aren’t allowed to start cleaning up until all the clients have left. The women stay until 9:30 exactly, then pick up their bags and leave.

The mother says, “I guess you want to get rid of us!”

Kindness Is Thicker Than Water

, , , , , , , , | Hopeless | May 9, 2018

It was the second to last day of a summer scheme my best friend and I were attending. That day they had a water fight. Even though there was a “ceasefire in the refill zone” rule, most people didn’t obey it. I had just got outside, the last to do so, and a boy with a bucket spotted me. He cornered me and called out to his friend, who also had a bucket, “Target practice!” And they started soaking me.

After I managed to escape, I grabbed a squirty-foam-pole-thingy and ran around hitting people with it because my water gun had very little water in it and I needed to save it for revenge on the boys — at this point, they were chasing me. Combined with my best friend giving me terrible advice, and a girl who was freaking out and splashing a hose at everyone whether they were going for her or not, I wasn’t doing very well.

When I managed to hide behind a bush to gather my bearings and re-organise myself, I spotted three people: two boys and a girl. The boy was squirting the girl, who was squirting back; however, she wasn’t trying to squirt the first boy. She was trying to squirt the boy’s friend, who had nothing and was soaking wet and cowering behind his friend. I threw my squirty-foam-pole-thingy at her to temporarily distract her and quickly scooted over and gave my water gun to the boy.

“Here. It’s not got much water left, but it’ll keep you covered for the rest of the game,” I told him, and he and his friend scooted off, quickly followed by the girl, without so much as a thank you. I picked my squirty-foam-pole-thingy back up, extended it fully, and went around beating people up for the rest of the game. I even braved the hose girl.

Later, in the car on the way home, my dad told me that I was very brave to “take a water bullet” for someone I didn’t know, and that he would have me by his side in a war any day.

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