Unfiltered Story #105906

, , | Unfiltered | February 17, 2018

I get a phone call from my daughter’s school.

Caller: Mr. [Name]. We believe your daughter may have been in a fight at school. However she is refusing to say anything. We you mind coming along to get this sorted.

Me: My wife works closer to school, I’ll call her. Why do you think she was in a fight?

Caller: She came into her English lesson with a nosebleed.

Me: She gets those from time to time.

Caller: We believe she was in a fight.

Me: Was there anything else to suggest she was?

Caller: She came into her lesson with a nosebleed.

Me: Yes, I know that. What else?

Caller: That’s it.

Me: And you say she said nothing?

Caller: That she had a nosebleed.

Me: So, my daughter came into her lesson, with a nosebleed, said it was a nosebleed, and there was nothing else to suggest she was in a fight.

Caller: She had a nosebleed.

Me: I’m curious, can you check my daughter’s record, as we requested that her frequent nosebleeds be noted down?

Caller: Yes, it’s here. I had to pull up her record to get your phone number.

Me: And you still think she was in a fight?

Caller: Yes.

I give in and call my wife. When I get home that evening, she’s having an argument on the phone.

Wife: I don’t care. I don’t want someone like that at my daughter’s school! A cabbage would be smarter than her!

Daughter: *whispering to me* We all call her cabbage after she photocopied an entire book without collating it.

After she hung up, my wife refused to tell me what happened at school, saying she’d already lost enough brain cells, and sadly my daughter wasn’t in the room at that point, so I may never find out.

Pray That’s Just Dry Humor

, , , , , , | Working | February 16, 2018

(I work in a bar with a coworker who is absolutely lovely, but can be quite feather-brained. Still, I wouldn’t have believed this if I hadn’t witnessed it myself! I’m sat off to the side on my break while [Coworker] is behind the bar. A customer approaches and asks for a dry white wine. I watch my coworker walk back and forth along the row of wine fridges, looking increasingly confused. Eventually she turns back to the customer.)

Coworker: “I’m so sorry; I think we’ve only got wet ones!”

Where There’s Smoke Alarms…

, , , , | Right | February 16, 2018

(I work in a hardware store. A customer comes in.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “I want to return this smoke alarm.”

Me: “Okay. Can I pull up your details?”

(He did indeed buy items on the day in question, but not a smoke alarm.)

Me: “Sir, the smoke alarm doesn’t match anything on your receipt I pulled up.”

Customer: “Well, I bought it here!”

Me: “Let me try something else, then.”

(I set a portable scanner to check barcodes. It comes up with an error saying the barcode isn’t in our database.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We do not carry this item. It’s not in our database, and we use this across the entire chain.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I’m telling you I bought this here at [Store] yesterday! It’s in mint condition! You have an agreement on your receipts that I have thirty days to change my mind!”

Me: “Sir, sorry, but is now a bad time to point out that the bag you pulled the smoke alarm from has [Competitor] written on it?”

(The customer blanches and looks at it.)

Me: *pointing in direction of [Competitor]* “Two doors down; you can’t miss it.”

(The customer grabbed the smoke alarm and was off like a shot.)

Free-Ballin’ It With The Housemates

, , , , , , | Friendly | February 16, 2018

(I live in a shared house set up with three bedrooms on each floor, each floor sharing a communal bathroom. I get on with all my housemates except one, who is generally obnoxious and seems to have very little respect for others. He eats food left in the communal fridge when it is clearly marked, plays music late at night, bangs doors early in the morning, etc. These are fairly low-level things, but rude when living in shared housing. One day after leaving the bathroom I realise I can’t find my razor. Presuming I left it in the bathroom, I ask the other people on my floor to let me know if they come across it. A few days later, I happen to pass the rude housemate on the landing as he is leaving the bathroom. In addition to his own toiletries, he has my razor in his hand.)

Me: “Oh, you found my razor. Great.”

Rude Housemate: “Yeah, it was in the bathroom and I needed some new blades, so I used it.”

Me: *standing there, with a serious beard* “You used it?”

Rude Housemate: “Yeah. You should pick up after yourself; it was left in the bathroom.”

Me: “No problem. I’ll get a new one.”

(It’s slightly evil, but I do wonder how long he shaved his face with the same razor I had shaved my balls with.)

Set Himself Up For Not Setting Up

, , , , , , | Learning | February 16, 2018

(I’m in my final year of Illustration at university, and I am about to display my previous year’s work at the end-of-year show. We have one week to clean, set up the temporary walls, install the computers for visual work, and organise what will go into each space. Because of the amount of work required in this crucial set-up stage, it’s vital that a lot, if not all students, turn up. Unfortunately, students at my university tend to treat the set-up week as the perfect time to go on holiday. I turn up on Monday to find literally THREE other students out of six fully-fledged studios to have actually bothered to show up.)

Me: *talking to another student* “This is completely ridiculous.”

Student #1: “Yeah, I know. If it’s going to be like this all week, we may as well cancel the d*** show. [Student #2] literally came in for five minutes, walked around, and left. You just know he’s going to throw a strop when he returns to see none of his work has been put up.”

([Student #2], for the record, is a MASSIVE drama queen when it comes to this type of stuff. Aside from barely turning up to class, he is very bullish when it comes to presentation of work, and he always talks down other people’s ideas if his aren’t centrestage. I decide to go speak to one of the lecturers to see if we can goad people into actually coming in to help us out.)

Lecturer: “I’ve already posted a bulletin on the student portal. If they don’t bother turning up, their work will be left until the absolute last when we decide on set-up. If, of course, there’s any space left by then.”

(The space each studio is given is incredibly small, so they want to maximise the available space without overloading it with work from each student. So, it seems only rational and fair that those who are actually there to set up the space will get priority. Fortunately, the email works, as we get more people turning up as the week progresses… spare [Student #2]. On Friday evening, the very last day of set-up, and the very final day that students are allowed to be in the space, [Student #2] arrives with his work.)

Student #2: *speaking to lecturer* “Hi, I want to put up my work here. Is that okay?”

Lecturer: “Well, you’re a little bit late, [Student #2]. It’s almost closing time, and what work goes into the space has already been decided. I’m sorry, but there is no more space.”

Student #2: *unbelievably, he’s annoyed by this* “WHAT?! Why did nobody tell me?!”

Lecturer: “You were told on Friday last week that this week would be the set-up time. Where have you been?”

Student #2: *doesn’t answer* “This is ridiculous! So, you mean to tell me that I have to take all this work back home with me?”

Me: “Yeah, it is ridiculous, isn’t it? Ridiculous how you can expect immediate treatment for your own work when you put in absolutely f***-all effort to get this space up for next week’s show. All of us were told that if we weren’t here for set-up, then our work would be put at the back of the queue for consideration. You didn’t even bother to turn your work in for the show, for whatever reason, but let’s be honest, here; you don’t have a reason, do you? You’re just f****** lazy.”

([Student #2] didn’t say a word in response, just silently fumed. He hung around for ten minutes, literally asking anyone and everyone still there on a Friday night if they could swap their space with him for at least one of his works. Everyone denied, and even if they wanted to, it would’ve been vetoed by the lecturers, as the spaces were already decided. When he realised he wasn’t going to get his own way this time, he threw his work into another student’s fragile installation, smashing it to pieces, before storming out. Unfortunately, the other student wasn’t there when it happened, and needless to say, when told her year-long work had been destroyed, she was PISSED. [Student #2] never bothered to come to the show or graduation. I wonder why…)

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