You’re Locked From The Solution

, , , | Right | June 13, 2018

(I work tech support. After standard verification, we ask for the issue.)

User: “I need to unlock my computer.”

Me: “Okay, just give me a minute; this should be a really easy fix.”

(I look at usual tools for unlocks, because that usually means that user’s account is locked.)

Me: “That is strange; I cannot see anything locked there. What is the application you are trying to access?”

User: “It is not an application; my computer is locked.”

Me: “Do you mean that your computer is physically locked?”

User: “Yes.”

Me: “Like in a box with a lock on it?”

User: “Yes, exactly.”

Me: “Did you set some code for it? I would guess it would be something like year of your birth, or something like that.”

User: “No, they gave me that with a code.”

Me: “Give me a moment. I will look for a locksmith in your area.”

(My colleague suggested that user should request blowtorch or sledgehammer.)

Unfiltered Story #107351

| Unfiltered | March 14, 2018

My father told me this story. It happened many years ago, when he was courting my mother. One evening they took a train to next city and went to see “Lemonade Joe”, Czech theatrical play, extremely funny comedy/parody of western. It was a hoot, with actors running among the audience and shooting tons of blank ammo.
One of the characters was “Doctor Kennedy, not really a nice person. My parents actually did not see the end of the play, as they had the last train home to catch, so they got up and went to pick their coats. Coat lady greeted them very eagerly.
Coat lady: “Kennedy just got shot!”
Father: “Haha, thank you, cool!”
It was not before they got home and turned the radio on, that they figured out, what she meant. Yes, it was November 22nd, 1963, and the news about the assassination of 35th president of USA just reached out small country. Father told me, that he felt terrible, but he never got a chance to apologize to that poor lady for his seemingly callous and crazy remark.

Getting To The Heart Of The Story

, , , , | Related | February 12, 2018

(As part of my advanced English course, I am writing a short story. I turn to my father for tips and advice; he is fluent in English and an avid writer himself.)

Father: “I like it, but your main hero is too perfect. Believable characters need some flaws.”

Me: “He is not perfect. He suffers from extremely fragile bones and is in constant pain.”

Father: “Uh… What was his name again?”

Me: “Sydney Hart.”

Father: *perfectly calm* “So… Your story is basically about achy, breaky Hart?”

Me: *long pause* “Okay, Percy Hamish it is. Also, I hate you, Dad.”

Father: “You are welcome, honey.”

Unfiltered Story #104001

, | Unfiltered | January 21, 2018

(A guy over 6’5″, invites himself into my car on his first day, does pay me regular fee everyone else does for driving them. Every time I’m left alone with him in car he starts saying sexist stuff about me being fertile woman, uneducated in the field and too young anyway – I’m 23 at the time, history art graduate doing well, good office job in IT company. That day The guy tries to invite himself into my car again over e-mail, I’m not reacting. He comes over, looking at his phone as he speaks to me)

Guy: At four as usuall?

Me: Me? Yes.

Guy: (simply stating) Okay, I know I said I’ll pay the debt today, but I’ll pay tomorow, with today’s fee.

Me: Sure thing, it’s [leaving today’s fee for ride out]

(He finally looks up from his phone, does the quick math and frowns a little)

Guy: Plus [today’s fee for the ride]

Me: No.

Guy: What do you mean no?

Me: Because I’m not driving you anymore.

(He frowns, actually confused)

Guy: Why?

Me: Because I don’t want to.

(a short pause, he’s even more confused)

Guy: Why?

Me: Because you keep presenting your sexist opinions on woman even through I asked you not to a few times already and said I ‘d like not to talk about such things with you.

(Not gonna lie, Adrenalin rush is a thing)

(The guy is staring at me, silent and confused)

Me: It’s [leaving today’s fee for ride out].

(He pulls out the money and leaves them on my table before leaving without another word.)

My coworker: I think I’m scared of you a little now. I wouldn’t have the balls to tell him the truth. Wow.

(not my first time dealing with sexist idiot)

(a moment later a Boss from the office next door comes and asks who talked to The Guy, our boss points at me nearly 5 feet tall petite girl, the Boss from next door starts laughing really hard and says he’s sulking at his table. Turns out nobody is happy with him or his work and that he refeses to take orders from the boss, who is a woman and does as if he did not hear her. Later on he misses the bus, calls me desperately, begging me to drive him for the last time. I refuse of course, because I’d be scared to do so anyway after all this too. Later he is seen CRYING near the office building back exit. He got kicked out the following week after making some remark about another lady boss in whole different district office.)

Unangelic Behavior

, , , , , , , | Related | December 21, 2017

(It’s nearly Christmas and we are finishing the decorations in our living room, including our so-called “Angelic quartet”. It’s a local variation to American “Elf on the Shelf,” with four winged plaster statuettes, nearly the size of newborn babies, sitting and playing, so you can arrange them on the furniture around the Christmas tree, and creep the hell out of any normal guy like me. I make a throwaway comment:)

Me: “I could really do without these dead children.”

(Later, at lunch, my nine-year-old granddaughter suddenly turns to my wife, and asks:)

Granddaughter: “Grandma, why does Grandpa call the little angels ‘dead children’?”

Grandma: “Yes, honey, why do you call them that?”

(The ungrateful bunch of cockroaches I call “family” put down their utensils and look at me expectantly, stopping short of grabbing popcorn.)

Me: “You know, some people believe that if a little baby dies, they immediately get wings and become angels, so they can fly to visit their families any time they feel sad and alone.”

(My granddaughter looks at me, pondering, then turns to my wife:)

Granddaughter: “Grandpa is also a bit of a joker, right?”

(I still call it a win!)

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