Nailing Their Security In Their Masculinity

, , , , , | Working | April 4, 2018

(I work in an auto shop. The talk of the town at work is that one of the admins is going to see her boyfriend in person for the first time in months this weekend, and has been laboriously planning every little detail to make things perfect. Discussions lead to a small cluster of mechanics around her, offering their input — totally unsarcastically — about how she should get her nails done.)

Admin: “I want to do black and pink to match my outfit, but I’m having trouble deciding.”

Mechanic #1: “Maybe French tips?”

Admin: “That’s not really my style, though. I’m thinking all black and one pink nail, or all pink and one black. What finish? Do you think I should do matte or not matte?”

Mechanic #2: “I think you should get satin. Or eggshell.”

Mechanic #1: “All pink and one black nail, though. The other way around is too heavy; more pink is more fun!”

(It was definitely one of the more sweet, adorable moments you’ll see in an auto shop.)

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Talking Turkey But Not Talking Turkish

, , , | Working | April 3, 2018

(There are four people in my office. [Coworker #1] spent more than a month in Turkey on a work assignment and has just returned. He brought a couple of flannel rags, of the kind you get in gas stations, brightly printed with company logos and advertisements in Turkish. [Coworker #2], famous for not always being in the loop, notices the rags while [Coworker #1] is out on errands.)

Coworker #2: “What’s written on these things?”

Me: “I don’t know; I don’t speak Turkish.”

Coworker #2: *looking at me like I said something funny* “Then how do you know it’s Turkish?”

Me: *unsure if he’s having me on* “Um, because that’s what they speak in Turkey. “

Coworker #2: “Why? Has anybody been to Turkey?”

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The Training Is Waning

, , , , | Working | April 2, 2018

(I work at an adult education center. A coworker and I are told to attend a local training for four days. At the end of the first day, my principal calls me, tells me to skip the rest of the training, and to return to the school. She says she needs me back and I can do the training next year.)

Coworker: *leans over and says* “I just want you to know that I know you skipped out on the last three days of training. You are lucky I am not the kind of person to report you to the principal. You’d better be grateful to me.”

Me: “You are welcome to let the principal know I was not at the training for the last three days. Check the sign-in sheet and you’ll see exactly where I was.”

(The coworker slunk away. The next year, Hurricane Andrew hit during the training days, and by the third year, the training was obsolete. I never did get trained.)

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Frustration Rising One Floor At A Time

, , , | Working | March 30, 2018

My office building has lifts with touch-buttons, which are very sensitive; one light touch and the floor is selected. Furthermore, the buttons sit flush with the wall.

It was lunchtime and the lift was crowded with my colleagues. More people got on, and one of my colleagues found himself pressed against the wall. Unbeknownst to him, he was leaning on the lift buttons, and they started lighting up.

We quickly told him to move away from the buttons, but it was too late. Most of the buttons were selected, and we could not do anything about it. When we arrived at the ground floor, we saw a large crowd of people waiting for the lift. My colleague then walked out nonchalantly and said to the crowd, “Good luck,” before quickly moving out of the building.

We did make a hasty escape, as well, and got away before the grumbles started. The good thing that came out of this was that we can now undo our selection by double-tapping it if we press the wrong buttons.

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Feeding The Fued

, , , , , | Working | March 29, 2018

(I’ve just started working the evening shift as wait staff on a very quiet night, while one of the young cooks has just finished. He comes up to the bar to have an after-work beer. It should be noted that all the staff get along very well and often tease each other.)

Cook: *as he sits at the bar* “I hear the service here is s***.”

Me: *without missing a beat* “Yeah, and the food’s even worse.”

(He immediately gets up and leaves.)

Bartender: *calls out after him* “Ooh, shots fired. Get back in your box!”

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