Dad Is Shipping You

, , , , | | Related | July 19, 2019

(On a visit to Portsmouth Dockyard, home of the Victory and the Mary Rose, I happen to overhear a conversation between a father and his small son about a modern warship in another part of the yard.)

Son: “Who owns that ship, Dad?”

Father: “Nobody owns it. It’s for sale.”

Son: “Who’s going to buy it?”

Father: “Anyone can. You can buy it if you like, but I don’t know where you’re going to put it.”

(I strolled away with a smile on my face, wishing my own dad had been that cool.)

Confusion Of The Traveling Shirts

, , , , , , | | Friendly | July 18, 2019

(I offer to clean some football shirts for my seven-year-old son’s team in our village. One of the mothers says they will send someone to pick them up next Sunday at noon. About that time, the doorbell rings and my son and I go to answer the door. The woman standing there is too young to be a mother. I assume she is maybe an older sister. She is carrying a bag containing some bulky items.)

Me: *to son* “What do you say?”

My Son: *handing the clothes over in a shopping bag* “Here you go.”

(The young woman looks surprised for a moment, before she smiles, takes the bag, thanks my son, and walks away. Twenty minutes later, one of the mothers comes to the door.)

Mother: “Hi, I’m here to pick up the clothes.”

Me: *confused* “But you just sent someone.”

Mother: *just as puzzled* “No, I didn’t.”

(I go into panic mode, and start feeling a little embarrassed. I immediately tell her everything that happened. The neighbour, hearing us talking loudly, interrupts and says that a young woman just gave her some goods she had ordered that matched the description. Another neighbour says that the woman in question was selling goods to various houses in our street.)

Mother: *loudly* “YOU GAVE OUR CLOTHES AWAY TO A SALESWOMAN?!”

(A third neighbour, as told to us the following day, had also ordered some goods. The woman giving them to her had asked if she also wanted to buy some clothes for “a cheaper price.” The neighbour brought the clothes for £20.)

Unable To Disable Nana’s Thinking

, , , , , | | Related | July 18, 2019

(I’m disabled. I have a disability permit that is displayed in my car for parking, but I’ve had car issues so that’s at the garage. My nana has given me a lift to do the food shop. She stops to park in a disability spot.)

Me: “Oh, Nana, we can’t park here.”

Nana: *sweet nana voice* “But you’re disabled.”

Me: “Yes, but I don’t have my permit with me to display.”

Nana: *confused nana voice* “But you’re disabled?”

Me: “But Nana, this spot is for blue badge holders only, and I don’t have my blue badge.”

(Nana considers this, and then pulls into the spot.)

Me: “Nana! You’ll get a fine!”

Nana: *angry Nana voice* “But you’re disabled!”

If The Jacket Fits…

, , , , , | | Legal | July 18, 2019

As a student, I used to moonlight as a bouncer with my girlfriend and a few other biker students at the university union for rock bands. I’m not that big but have long hair, a beard, and tats. One night, we were all working as usual and had put our leather jackets under the ticket desk as the venue was very hot. The gig was busy and we were occupied all night dealing with the crowd.

Come gig finish, we came out to discover that the steward on the door had been called away and both my leather and my friend’s leather had walked. Seriously annoyed and out of pocket a few hundred pounds, I went to get a drink.

At the bar was a man wearing my friend’s very distinctive brown leather jacket. I approached him and said this, and he apologised profusely and stated he had been sold it by a man in the bar earlier for 50 pounds. He apologised and took it off. Underneath, he was wearing my jacket.

I took his arm and said we were going to security. He took my jacket off and said he had purchased that one, as well, but I still walked him to the security desk.

At the last moment, he wriggled free and bolted across the gravel car park with me in pursuit. Just before I ran out of puff, he slipped and went facedown in the gravel, tearing his face and arms to shreds.

After I took him back and waited for the police, he then informed them that I had assaulted him and pushed him into the gravel.

The cop just listened to my story, twisted his arms behind his back, and cuffed him. Did help he was a police motorcycle cop that I helped out teaching safe biking to teenagers with, I suppose.

Unfiltered Story #158327

, , , | | Unfiltered | July 18, 2019

(We have a guy who is known for being surly to colleagues, and the only female he talks to is a girl of similar origin to his own, this happens in front of him, I’m a white female)
Me: Collection number [number]!
Customer: That’ll be me love, how are you today?
Me: Doing very well sir, and yourself?
Customer: Not bad, not bad, talking to [coworker] here waiting for my order. I hear people say good things about him, me, I just tell the truth.
(A few weeks prior, this guy demeaned the team I’m in to a customer, while right next to me. Thank you sir, for being a great regular and dishing a hot dose of karma!)

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