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Don’t School Zones Have Speed Limits?!

, , , , , | Legal | September 26, 2021

I live near a school. [Woman #1] must live nearby; we regularly see her in her mobility scooter or the scooter parked outside one of the takeaways. She is a bit of a menace on it; she drives around at full pelt everywhere, on and off the road, in and out of people, and she gets very aggressive and defensive if you dare to call her out on it.

As the schools are letting out, I walk by and see an accident. I go over to see if I can help.

When I get there, a boy is still on the ground and [Woman #1] is sat on her scooter, arms folded, arguing with a woman who doesn’t appear to be the boy’s mother.

Woman #1: “He should look where he is going.”

Boy: *Through tears* “I wasn’t even going anywhere.”

Woman #1: *Shouting* “I need to go to the doctor! People like you need to watch where you are going!”

Woman #2: “Don’t shout at him! Even if he got in your way, you were going way too fast.”

Boy: *Sobbing* “I didn’t! I didn’t get in her way.”

I spot a teacher and wave him over.

Teacher: “[Boy], what happened? Are you okay?”

Me: “He was stood on his bike when [Woman #1] crashed into him. She saw him and didn’t even try to slow down.”

Woman #1: “Lies! You’re just picking on me!”

Me: “I’m sure there are a dozen other people who saw the same thing I did. Might want to call someone; this isn’t the first accident she has caused.”

[Woman #1] continued to shout at me, the teacher, the boy, and the other woman for some time. Eventually, the boy’s mum turned up at the same time as the police. The teacher and I each gave a statement, and they asked a few onlookers who told them what they saw.

I can only guess that the mum didn’t press charges, but [Woman #1] lost her scooter, and the world is at least slightly safer for everyone in the school and neighbourhood.

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Have A Heart, Not A Fake Heart Attack

, , , , | Healthy | September 25, 2021

We have a non-emergency centre in our city; anyone can walk up and be seen, but after a certain time, it isn’t fully staffed. Then, you have to call them first and they will confirm whether they can see you there or refer you to the nearby emergency centre at the hospital. Or, they just tell you to take it up with your general doctor.

There are no costs or waiting times, and it’s clear on the website and signs are plastered over the centre, yet people still don’t get it.

I call ahead and ask to come in. As I walk the path, a couple is having a conversation in hushed tones.

Woman: “You are not listening; they won’t see you.”

Man: “No, but when we get there, I will pretend to have chest pains. They can’t refuse to see me then!”

Woman: “Oh, good idea.”

I follow them to the door. The man immediately grabs his chest and staggers to a nearby bench, draping himself over it like a Renaissance painting. The woman presses the intercom.

Intercom: “Did you ring ahead?”

Woman: “No, but my husband is having chest pains.”

Intercom: “Is it bad? Is he having any problems breathing, confusion?”

Woman: “Well, yes, a little.”

Intercom: “Okay. I will call an ambulance. Stay there and someone will come out in a second.”

Woman: “No, no no, it’s not really that bad.”

Intercom: “No, is he having issues breathing?”

Woman: “Err, no. But his foot hurts. He dropped something on it earlier.”

Intercom: *Sighs* “If it is only his foot, he needs to call the number and they will assess him.”

Woman: “But his foot really does hurt.”

Intercom: “And if you ring the number, someone will talk it through with him.”

The woman says something quietly.

Intercom: “Call the number like everyone else has. There is a queue of people that need our help and you are stopping us from helping them.”

Woman: “He needs help! We are not leaving this spot.”

Intercom: “Call the number. They will diagnose you; it isn’t urgent so you can do that. If you refuse to move, you will be arrested.”

The woman went back to her husband, who miraculously stopped clutching his chest, and they walked off. He didn’t even have a limp.

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That’s Not How You Butter Someone Up

, , , , | Right | September 24, 2021

We don’t use a lot of butter in the house, so it is a couple of weeks before we get round to buying more after running out. As it happens, both my wife and I buy some on the same day without the other realising. We will never use both tubs, we cannot donate or return it, and it seems a shame to throw it away. We offer it for free on a local selling site.

We get quite a lot of stupid comments and more from people who think they are hilarious. But eventually, someone does want it, so we arrange a time and date. They don’t show up.

I message them.

Me: “Hey, you didn’t show up yesterday. Do you want the butter still?”

Buyer: “Yeah, no. You can give it to someone else.”

Me: “Okay, please let us know if you are not turning up. I was waiting around for you.”

Buyer: “Whatever. It’s butter!”

After another couple of days of messing around to give something away for free, I’m regretting not just putting it in the bin. I get contacted by a very grateful single mother. I feel pretty bad, so I dig around and find a few more odds and ends that we will probably not eat, and she collects them.

I get a message from the first guy.

Buyer: “I will take that butter after all. My wife wants it now.”

Me: “It’s gone.”

Buyer: “Don’t be a d**k. I can come over now.”

Me: “Don’t. It’s gone.”

Buyer: “Yeah, right, who is going to pick up some second-hand butter?”

Me: “Well, not you. Someone who actually appreciated the gesture already claimed it.”

I blocked him straight after. Thankfully, he didn’t show up. I can’t stand people so ungrateful.

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Too Little Too Late

, , , , , | Working | September 24, 2021

[Manager #1] was my manager only briefly, as my old boss left suddenly and a new one couldn’t be found for a few months. She didn’t want to manage me, she didn’t value my job or my input, and she made no attempt to hide it.

A new manager was eventually found, but I never forgot how she treated me. I made every attempt to avoid her, and if she wanted my help, she could ask my boss, and then it was low-priority.

Eventually, I found another job with better pay and fewer hours and handed in my resignation. [Manager #1] made several remarks about me not being a loss to the company. But it didn’t affect me; she didn’t matter and her opinion didn’t matter.

On my last day, she came to my desk.

Manager #1: “Here. Just a little something so as not to part on bad terms.”

Me: “Oh, a card… Thanks.”

Manager #1: “Just a little something, you know. Good luck.”

I already had the bin there for the rest of the stuff in my desk, so the card went there, too. A few weeks into my new job, my new manager pulled me aside.

Manager #2: “We had an applicant get through to the shortlist. I think you might know her… [Manager #1]?”

I was far more professional than [Manager #1] deserved, but I was honest and told him how she had behaved on several occasions. She did not get the job.

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It’s Easy To Get Tangled Up In The Brambles Of A Pun War!

, , , , , , | Working | September 24, 2021

There’s a music and DVD store I frequent where I have some great chats with members of staff about upcoming movies and so on. I’ve been asking [Employee #1] and [Employee #2] about the “Watchmen” TV series, and the conversation had moved on to “Swamp Thing,” a plant-like creature in the DC Universe.

Me: “I remember listening to an interview with Alan Moore about how he was given that writing job.”

Employee #1: “So, you’re going to take us back to Swamp Thing’s roots?”

Me: “Oh, very good!”

[Employee #2] put his head in his hands, slumped over the till, and muttered, “Oh, God.”  He lifted his head toward me.

Employee #2: “Please don’t get him started. He’ll never stop.”

Employee #1: “I suppose I should leaf it?”

Me: “Should I apologise for planting the seed of these puns?”

Employee #1: “He finds them a blooming nuisance.”

Employee #2: “Ugh! Stop it!”

Me: “Hey, I like a good bit of pun tennis.”

[Employee #2] nodded toward [Employee #1].

Employee #2: “So does he.”

Employee #1: “The other day it was literal pun tennis. I was texting him non-stop tennis puns. I just served him one after the other.”

Me: “There was no letup?”

Employee #1: “Ace! He didn’t love any of the set and didn’t want to join in the game.”

Employee #2: “No more!”

[Employee #1] then turned toward [Employee #2].

Employee #1: “Have you got one?”

When he didn’t reply, I said:

Me: “Maybe we should leave him a lawn?”

Employee #2: “I’m not joining in… Clay off!”

[Employee #1] and I gave him a little cheer!

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