We Can Attest That These Are Good Neighbors

, , , , , , | Friendly | April 7, 2020

Quarantine started a few days ago in our area. In France, since the beginning of the quarantine, we have had to print and/or write down an official attestation and take it with us whenever we leave home. People who leave home without this attestation and/or leave home to do unnecessary stuff may get a fine.

I live in an apartment building and many of my neighbors are retired, which means they are more vulnerable to illness than average. One morning, I find a note on the building’s entrance door. It’s from one of our young neighbors, who offers to help other neighbors by shopping for food.

The day after, there’s also a small display next to this note. It’s full of attestations printed by another neighbor so that people who don’t have a printer can just help themselves.

I love my neighbors.

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We’ve All Had Teachers Like This

, , , , , , | Learning | April 6, 2020

I’m a 21-year-old college senior working on a law program in addition to my bachelor’s degree. Unfortunately, I’ve had asthma that fluctuates in severity since I was a kid. As fear and panic begins to spread throughout the country, my doctor personally calls me to notify me that she would like me to come pick up some doctor’s notes that she’s signed for me in order to pass to my professors and my work. She would rather have me inside and self-isolating as soon as possible. 

Once I get these notes, I drop them off to the appropriate parties and am reassured that it won’t be a problem at all. I drop the signed doctor’s notes on a Monday, and my school week typically starts on a Tuesday. So, I am covered, sweet. 

That Friday morning, I wake up to an email from one of my professors, at least a page long, chastising me for being so irresponsible and not showing up to class. This professor is close with my advisor, but I’ve never had him nor interacted with him otherwise, so this kind of email is rather inappropriate and shocking. 

I send him an email, reminding him of my doctor’s note and also providing him with my doctor’s number in case he needs to call her office. 

Within minutes, he writes back, stating that asthma is no excuse for missing class and no quality professor would be accepting of that reason. 

When I email him back, I CC the Dean of Humanities and once again attach my doctor’s note. Within the body of the message, I explain that while I understand where he is coming from, with the spreading healthcare crisis it is more detrimental for me to be outside than it is for me to be home. I also point out that all of my other professors, including my law professors with whom I interact wholly online and got precautionary notes, had no issues whatsoever. I want to point out the fact that he is literally the only professor I have who doesn’t have the title of Doctor, but I refrain; I’m not trying to be rude here. 

I don’t hear back from him, but the next week my campus closes until the end of the semester and everything is moved online. Every professor follows the school’s mandated “week off” while everything changes… except him. 

It only takes three days into the week before all the coursework is removed from view from the class’s homepage and the Dean emails our class to personally apologize for the professor’s behavior. I guess my classmates have been complaining, too. 

The Dean emails me, too, apologizing for the professor’s behavior and requesting a copy of my note to keep on file. She then goes on to tell me that if I need anything to not hesitate to reach out. 

Moral of the story: don’t be an a**hole during a national emergency, man. Not all college students intentionally skip out on school all the time. And it’s better to be an understanding, cool professor than one everyone hates.

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His Memory Is Being Wiped More Frequently Than His Behind

, , , , | Right | April 6, 2020

It’s the height of panic buying and Australia apparently runs on toilet paper. We haven’t subscribed to the panic, but we do run out of toilet paper, so I go to look for some. I go into a supermarket and find the toilet paper aisle COMPLETELY empty, but a worker is stocking the shelves. I stand back a moment to make sure there’s nothing and realise the worker is stocking paper towels. An old man is in the aisle.

Old Man: “Do you have toilet paper?”

Worker: “Nah just what’s there.”

Old Man: “What about unscented home brand toilet paper?”

Worker: “Nah man, just what’s out.”

Old Man: “Do you have any unscented tissues?”

Worker: “Just what’s there.”

Old Man: “Do you have any home brand unscented tissues?”

Worker: “We’ve only got what is on the shelves.”

Old Man: “You sure you don’t have anything out back?”

Worker: “Nah man, this is all we have for the day.”

Old Man: “What about a small pack of homebred unscented tissues?”

Worker: “We only have what you can see.”

As I left the aisle I could hear the man getting frustrated asking more questions.

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Somebody Missed “Personal Space” Day In School

, , , , , | Friendly | April 5, 2020

Supermarkets and other businesses that have stayed open are trying to get customers to respect social distancing by marking adequate spaces for queues on their floors near the checkouts.

I was at the head of the queue for the self-checkouts, having waited carefully behind all lines and giving plenty of room to the person at the first machine. A young man came up and stood right behind me, completely oblivious to the signs, tape, and rope barriers informing customers of where to stand. 

As luck would have it, I felt a tickle in my throat and a surge of overwhelming retail worker passive-aggression right at that moment. I threw my arm over my face and coughed as loudly and theatrically as my 5’2″ self could manage — which was pretty loud, if I say so myself. 

“Oh, ex-CUSE me!” I then proclaimed, juggling my groceries as I reached for my hand sanitiser. 

He finally backed up behind the next line, and I proceeded to the next free machine. I know it’s incredibly petty, but please, folks, take a step back.

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Not Handling This Well

, , , , , | Right | April 3, 2020

I am a massage therapist at a hotel spa on the beach. Yesterday, I had a client who was scheduled for an eighty-minute Swedish massage. That is almost an hour and a half of being in an enclosed, private room with me essentially rubbing over 80% of a client’s body with my hands. 

With the viral situation, our numbers have obviously dropped as people aren’t traveling as much and are scared. Unfortunately for me, that means that this lady is my first and only client of the day.

At her scheduled appointment time, I walk up to her and greet her while holding my hand out to shake hers. She immediately held her hands close to her body.

 Client: “I don’t shake hand!”

 Me: “O…kay.”

 I brush it off, and continue.

 Me: “Have you chosen a scent for your massage?”

 She then picks up each one of our six scent testers, with her hands, and brings them right up to her nose where she breathes in and out… like every other person who had ever been in our spa.

When I finally get her back to the room and on the table, I ask at the beginning of the massage:

 Me: “Would you like your hands avoided?”

 Client: “No. Just don’t touch my face.”

So you won’t shake my hand, but you’re comfortable with me putting my hands all over you and breathing on you?

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