Your Music Taste Towers Above The Rest

, , , , , | Right | August 13, 2018

(I work at a small museum in a tower. Visitors have to hike about a mile to the building, and then if they want to go to the top of the building, it’s another ten staircases up. One hot day, a group of five people walk in. One visitor is playing “Eye of the Tiger” loudly on his phone.)

Musical Visitor: “PHEW! We made it! Now who’s pumped for the top of the tower?”

Visitor #1: “Oh, my God. Can you turn the music off now?”

Musical Visitor: “Nope! Got to get pumped!” *sees me laughing* “See? She likes it!”

Me: “Yeah, I like it. You’ve got a lot of steps to go now, so you could use the excitement.”

Musical Visitor: “Okay, let’s go!”

(He starts jogging up the steps. Another person in his group, a young woman, pauses at my chair, shaking her head.)

Visitor #2: “You can make fun of him when he leaves; we won’t mind.”

Can’t “Wipe” That From Your Memory

, , , , , , | Friendly | August 9, 2018

I’m working retail in a department store in high school. While putting clothes away I notice a woman lurking in a seldom-frequented corner of the store. The company has a strict policy on apprehending shoplifters and prohibits clerks from approaching or even remarking on it to anyone suspected of it. Because of this, I follow her from a bit of a distance, keeping an eye on her in case I need to alert loss prevention.

She darts into some high-hanging racks used to hang long bathrobes and dresses. Glancing around, she doesn’t notice me and proceeds to grab a handful of bathrobe and whip it behind herself. She stuffs the wad of cloth deep into the back of her jeans and begins—to my horror— scratching and rubbing vigorously, using the cloth as what can only be described as toilet paper. She ends this session with one long, satisfying swipe, shakes the cloth free, and wanders off. Disgusted, I hunt down my manager and alert her. She moseys over, glances at it, and, seeing no “stains”… also wanders off.

I now launder all new clothes before wearing them.

Well, Mow My Lawn And Paint Me Purple

, , , | Right | August 8, 2018

(I work in the paint department of a local home improvement store. Our phone system has three options for callers: power equipment, paint, and retail. For some reason, callers never pay attention and just choose a random one. I usually get repair calls at the paint department. I figure I’ll have a little fun after the tenth time the wrong call comes through.)

Me: “Paint department. [My Name] speaking; how can I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, is my lawn mower ready for pickup?”

Me: “Oh, geez, sir, I don’t know. Let me go check the shaker to see if it’s done.”

Caller: “Wait… What!? What kind of operation are you runnin’ here?!”

Me: “It was a joke, sir. This is the paint department.”

Caller: “Well, I don’t want to paint my lawnmower! “

Me: “Okay, sir! I’ll just transfer you to repairs. You have a good day, now!”

Caller: “D*** kids, always trying to paint my lawnmower!”

Pizza Is Life!

, , , , , | Friendly | August 6, 2018

(I live on campus in a dorm with three other friends, two of whom are twin sisters. [Twin #1] has a habit of talking in her sleep. I am chilling in the living room of our dorm with my roommate. [Twin #1] is napping, and [Twin #2] is not home at the moment.)

Twin #1: “[Twin #2]! Hey, [Twin #2]!”

(Hearing the shouting, [Roommate] and I go into the twins’ room to investigate. [Twin #1] is still calling out for her sister, sound asleep.)

Roommate: “[Twin #2] isn’t here. What can we do for you?”

Twin #1: “I want… pizza.”

Roommate: *trying not to laugh loudly and wake her* “What kind of pizza do you want, [Twin #1]?”

Twin #1: *pauses* “LIFE PIZZA.”

(She then fell back into her quiet nap while our roommate and I cracked up laughing. [Twin #1] doesn’t remember saying anything, but several years after graduation, we still haven’t let her forget!)

As You Wish…

, , , , , | Friendly | July 30, 2018

(My friend, her husband, and I get together to watch a movie. They share their apartment with another mutual friend who looks like he could be in biker gang and tends to frown upon “cutesy” things.)

Tough Guy Friend: “What are you guys watching?”

Me:The Princess Bride; it’s a classic!”

Tough Guy Friend: *scoffs*Princess Bride? Sounds like a chick flick.”

(We start the movie and [Tough Guy Friend] hangs around in the same room playing a video game. “The Princess Bride” begins with a frame narrative of an older man reading a book, also titled “The Princess Bride,” to his skeptical grandchild.)

Grandchild: *in film* “Is this a kissing book?”

Tough Guy Friend: “I like that kid!”

(As the film goes on, our friend becomes less and less focused on his game. By the climactic rescue mission he is on the couch with us, fully invested in the movie, precisely mirroring the growing interest of the grandson in his grandfather’s story.)

Tough Guy Friend: “Ugh, this is so sweet I think it gave me diabetes.”

Me: “But you like the story? You’d watch it again?”

Tough Guy Friend: *pause* “Maybe.”

Grandchild: *in film* “Grandpa, maybe you could come over and read it again to me tomorrow?”

Other Friend: “[Tough Guy Friend], you don’t just like that kid; you are that kid!”

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