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Absolutely Trucking Mad, Part 6

, , , , | Right | November 14, 2022

My husband was the non-commissioned officer in charge of a large truck dock at a major Air Force base for several years before he retired from the military. The truck dock hosted regular potluck lunch events. It was my job to coordinate and run these events.

The civilian boss who was over the truck dock had a policy that ANYONE who entered the truck dock during these events was encouraged to stay and eat with us because we always had more than enough food. We once even had a group from the Danish military eat with us because their tour passed through the truck dock right before we started eating at a potluck.

The following happens when I deal with a dreaded “dependa” — the name for an annoying military wife who likes to throw her husband’s rank around. This dependa is the wife of one of his new airmen, and my husband is four ranks above the dependa’s husband. I have just invited several truck drivers who entered the truck dock to come over and eat with us because there isn’t an airman available to unload their trucks immediately due to the potluck.

This woman, who I have never met, starts yelling at me.

Dependa: “What are you doing?! Why are you letting dirty truck drivers eat with military people?!”

Me: “Umm, who are you? My husband is Technical Sergeant [My Last Name] and I am running this event.”

Dependa: “I am airman [Last Name]’s wife! You have no authority to let truck drivers eat with us!”

Me: “Oh, yeah, you’re the new guy’s wife! The reason why I am letting the truck drivers eat with us is that [Civilian Boss] told me to! We let the truck drivers eat with us while they wait for their trucks to be unloaded. I also know all of these truck drivers personally because they all come almost every day at lunch, anyway. I come to base to bring Sergeant [Husband] lunch every day, so I talk to them all the time.”

Dependa: “But truck drivers shouldn’t be allowed to eat with us! You are a disgrace to military wives!”

Me: “Hold on, let me call my husband over. You are way out of line!”

I call my husband over.

Husband: *To the woman* “What are you thinking?! My wife has been running these events for years, and you think that you can just barge in here as the wife of an E-2 and tell her what to do?!”

Dependa: *To my husband* “You have no authority over my husband! He is going to take your job in less than a year because you obviously don’t know how to run a professional military operation!”

Husband: “Are you threatening my job? Your husband is literally fresh out of basic training and technical school, and there is no way that he is going to make rank fast enough to even make E-5 before I retire in two years!”

My husband calls the airman over to us.

Husband: *To the airman* “Your wife thinks that she can just barge into my operation and tell my wife what to do! Control your wife now, or I will permanently ban her from the operation! She is disrupting an official event.”

The airman starts sputtering about how his wife is just really proud to be a military wife and that she just got too excited.

Husband: *To the airman and his wife* “I don’t care how proud she is! This is my operation and I will run it as I see fit, including giving my wife authority to run events in the shop! Take your wife and leave now! I will discuss this with you in private when you come back to work on Monday!”

My husband ended up banning the dependa from any future events because her husband couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t pull that stunt again. That was the first and only time that he banned a dependent from shop events.

Related:
Absolutely Trucking Mad, Part 5
Absolutely Trucking Mad, Part 4
Absolutely Trucking Mad, Part 3
Absolutely Trucking Mad, Part 2
Absolutely Trucking Mad

It’s Okay, A Lot Of People Aren’t Cut Out To Deal With The Public

, , , , , , , | Related | July 30, 2022

My husband is an army veteran who did five combat tours in Afghanistan and Iraq combined. He suffers from severe post-traumatic stress disorder. He retired from the military a few years ago after twenty years of service, but he recently left a federal job on a disability pension because his PTSD is so bad. His three pensions more than cover our expenses, and I’m getting a housing stipend while I pursue my Ph.D.

I have an elderly aunt in another area of the region who finds out about the situation and decides to take it upon herself to get my husband a job as a door greeter at [Retailer]. She is from an era where she thinks that a man should ALWAYS have a job. My husband HATES her because she is always meddling in other people’s business and trying to force them into taking her type of “help”.

She is VERY social and loves [Retailer] — so much so that she is friends with her local store manager. She asks him to call the manager of the store in our area to “pull some strings” to get my husband a job as a door greeter there; she thinks that “disabled” means that he is well suited to be a [Retailer] greeter.

It is worth noting that my husband’s PTSD makes him WAY too volatile to work in a job that involves dealing with the public. He generally doesn’t get along with employers, he literally has no filter, and he compulsively uses profanity.

This is what happens when the manager of the [Retailer] in our area calls my husband to offer him a job at his store.

Manager: “Hi, [Husband]. I am calling to offer you a job as a greeter at our store. When would be a good time for you to come in and start the hiring process?”

Husband: “I didn’t apply for a position at your store! How did you get my phone number?”

Manager: “Well, your wife’s aunt told the manager at her local store that you were disabled and that you needed a job, so we decided to find a position for you at our store.”

Husband: “She did what?!

He starts referring to my aunt with every curse word that he knows.

Husband: “She knows full well that my psychiatrist at the VA says that I am too unstable to work with the public! She didn’t mention that, did she?”

The manager is very shocked at my husband’s hailstorm of profanity.

Manager: “Ummm, no, sir, she didn’t! I don’t think that you should use profanity like that!”

Husband: “I am the last person you want working at your store! I have three pensions coming in from the government, so I don’t need the money! [Aunt] is going to get an earful for this!”

My husband hung up on the manager, and then he had me call my aunt to ask her to NEVER do that again! She had already talked to the manager, and she started yelling at me that my husband had embarrassed her by flipping out on him. She said that all she wanted was for my husband to get a job and that she was trying to help him.

I told her that she brought it on herself because she decided to meddle and that she knew full well that his mental stability isn’t the greatest so he wouldn’t be a good candidate to work a retail job.

It has been a few years since this happened and she STILL complains about this at family gatherings! She also still thinks that a [Retailer] job would be perfect for my husband!

Home Crafts Come In All Shapes And Sizes

, , , , | Right | June 30, 2022

It’s a pretty quiet Monday night. Bad weather means there aren’t a lot of customers, so we’re working on tidying up. The manager and I are at the back of the store talking about things that need to get done when the cashier on with us calls out over the radio.

Cashier: “Uh, a woman just came in and asked if we have dildos.”

Manager: *Looks at me, concerned* “I’m sorry, what did she ask for?”

Cashier: “Dildos.”

Manager: “That… That’s what I thought you said.”

Cashier: “Yeah, I said no, and she left.”

Me: *Not over the radio* “Well, we have clay in A-23 if she wanted to make one. Don’t recommend it, though.”

Manager: “Don’t give them any ideas.”

Not The Sharpest Knife In The Set

, , , | Right | June 29, 2022

There’s a gentleman who runs a business that involves sharpening blades. Since we have a lot of sewers and other crafters that use scissors, we have an arrangement where we help to drum up the gentleman’s business as well as host him every now and then in exchange for him sharpening our cutting counter scissors for free while he’s at the store.

As such, we have fliers advertising when he comes, as well as a list of what he sharpens and the prices. I’m running the register when a customer comes up to make a purchase and sees the flier.

Customer: “Y’know, my brother has one of those Japanese samurai swords. Can I bring that in?”

Me: “I wouldn’t. It’s likely just decorative, and even if it wasn’t, a katana is a weapon. I think they also have to be handled a certain way if being sharpened? But if you’re set on it, you’re more than welcome to take a flier and give him a call to ask.”

The customer is ignoring me, looking over the flier listing items he sharpens and reading one of the items aloud.

Customer: “Single bevel Japanese knife… A sword is just a really big knife, right?”

Don’t Worry, Kid; It’ll Hit You One Day

, , , , , , | Learning | June 27, 2022

I was a fairly unpopular fifth-grader — good academically, bad socially. I somehow got the idea that I could solve my popularity problem with advice from books.

This was pre-Internet, so my book selection was not only limited but difficult to search for. I felt embarrassed looking for books about how to make friends, so my only hope was to find a book at the school library during our weekly visit, check it out, and read it in secret. I searched and searched, and the closest resource I could find was a book called “Male Manners.” I don’t know what I was thinking.

Sure enough, the book turned out to be irrelevant. I don’t remember most of what I read, only that if I was ever eating at a place where I’d finished my meal but wished to keep enjoying a rich sauce, I should gently drop bits of bread into the sauce, then eat them with my fork — not exactly the kind of advice I was looking for.

The next week, when it was time to return the book to the library, I didn’t want anyone to see me with it, so I tried to quickly slide it across the counter of the Returns desk on my way in and then hustle off into the library.

Unfortunately, in my haste to get away from the book, I slid it a little too vigorously, and it slid off the other end of the counter and hit the librarian.

Librarian: “HEY!”

Me: “Oh… uh, sorry.”

Librarian: “Do we throw books?”

Me: “No, sorry, I wasn’t throwing it, I just pushed it too hard… but sorry.”

The librarian looked at the book cover.

Librarian: *Extremely loud* “And it’s a book about manners!”

She showed it to the other librarian.

Librarian: *Still extremely loud* “Look at this! It’s a book about manners! He threw it at me, and it’s a book about manners!”

I wanted to crawl under a desk. Fifth grade is awful.