A Propensity For Density

, , , , | Learning | June 4, 2017

(We are in physics class, talking about refraction. There is a group of kids in the class that tend to be disruptive and loud, but the teacher ignores them and focuses on teaching the student who are behaving. She had just set us some questions, and is talking to a student on my table. Our teacher often jokes around.)

Teacher: “So, the more dense an object is, the higher the refractive index.”

Loud Student: *from across the room* “Wait, what are we doing now?”

Teacher: *sigh* “I think that there are some students in here with a very high refractive index.”

(Everyone on my table laughed, and the loud student looked at us, confused.)

Living With A Complex Kitty

, , , , , | Romantic | June 3, 2017

(I was living with my then-boyfriend’s family. They have three cats. One of them is tiny; even though she’s a 16-year old-cat there are many five-year-old cats that are bigger. However, my boyfriend jokingly calls her fatty and fatso and other weight related names because she will devour anything edible in sight. Another odd quirk about her is when she’s being petted she will open her mouth and pretty much gag herself on the fingers of whoever is petting her. All of this is said in jest:)

Me: *after watching the older cat gag on my then boyfriend’s fingers again* “You know, maybe she’s trying to make herself sick.”

Boyfriend: “What? Like bulimia?”

Me: “Yeah, you’re always calling her fat; maybe she’s developed a complex. She gorges herself on her and the other cat’s food, and the chicken, and the ham, and whatever else that has been foolishly unattended, then feels bad and tries to vomit.”

Boyfriend: *laughing* “Are you saying I’ve given her an eating complex?”

Me: “Yes.”

Your Demand Has Shattered

, , , , | Right | June 2, 2017

(It has just been Christmas so people are coming in to exchange or refund unwanted gifts. I am standing beside my coworker whilst he deals with this specific customer.)

Customer: “Hello, I would like to return this aftershave I bought. I have a receipt.”

Coworker: “Okay, no problem. Is there anything wrong with it?”

Customer: “Yes. I dropped it on the floor and the bottle smashed so I want my money back.”

Coworker: *opens the box and finds it is just a box of glass* “I’m sorry but you will not be able to return this item. You dropped it and it smashed. It’s a glass bottle; they smash if dropped. It’s not a fault.”

Customer: “I dropped it on SOFT FLOORING and it shouldn’t have smashed, so the bottle was faulty. I would like my money back!”

(At this point the customer’s friend interrupts.)

Friend: “Well, you did drop it on wooden flooring.”

Customer: “It shouldn’t have broken!”

Coworker: “I understand the upset but we cannot issue a refund because you damaged the product when you got home. It doesn’t work that way.”

Customer: *getting angry* “IT SHOULDN’T HAVE BROKEN! I work in a perfume shop and I know that the bottle shouldn’t have broken.”

(She then proceeds to grab the tester we have at the till.)

Customer: “Look, if I throw this tester on the floor it won’t break.”

Coworker: “Please don’t throw that on the floor. It WILL break and I will have to clean it up. I’m sorry your item got damaged but we are not able to refund it in store today. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Customer: “WELL, I AM NEVER SHOPPING HERE AGAIN! YOU HAVE LOST A LOYAL CUSTOMER. GOODBYE.”

(She stormed out the shop whilst my coworker and I stood there in a state of shock.)

, , | General | June 2, 2017

While a student I spent two weeks one summer teaching English to rich European teenagers in Southampton, UK. During the week I spent my time in classes, while one weekend day would be spent accompanying the students on an excursion somewhere. Most of the time the teenagers were fine but every now and then you’d find one spoiled rich kid who was clealy angry at being ‘dumped in Britain’ by his or her ridiculously rich Belgian/Swedish/Russian parents. To make sure the students could easily identify staff, we all had to wear blue polo-neck shirts with the language school logo on both the front and the back.

One of those excursions on a really grey rainy day was to a theme park about an hour or two away from where we were based. Coincidentally, staff uniform at this particular theme park was almost the exact same shade of blue polo-neck shirt as teachers did.

This wasn’t much of a problem most of the day; coralling my assigned group of pupils, making sure they weren’t getting up to mischief and generally keeping tabs on everything while every now and then having to explain to a confused park visitor how I wasn’t actually working at the park was all I had to deal with.

Then some of my group wanted to go on some ‘thrilling’ new rollercoaster. It went backwards. In the dark. Woo. So, waiting in line with a group of the teenagers, a couple of whom were particularly belligerent, we notice we’ve been standing still for a bit of a while without moving. It turns out ‘something’ had happened with the rollercoaster – rumors were going around someone had vomited on the ride, but there was no official word on it.

Being the only person in the queue with a blue polo-neck on I suddenly get inundated with my own European teenagers asking me questions. Which prompted the rest of the crowd around me, and people deciding to back through the line because they couldn’t be bothered to wait, to also ask me questions with a couple (no joke) actually asking ‘what are we standing in line for?

Surrounded by non-English speaking students and British families on a rainy cold day out in a theme park I’d never been to in my life, all of whom saw me as a beacon of knowledge, ‘I don’t even work here’ really just didn’t seem to cut it.

Unfiltered Story #87846

, , | Unfiltered | June 2, 2017

(I was in a large stationary/news store some years back, wearing a shirt which happened to be in their corporate color, and I was approached by a random, very well spoken customer, who asked…)

Cust: “Excuse me, could you help me?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t actually work h….”

Cust: (interrupting abruptly) “What do you mean?”

Me: “I don’t work here, I’m not a member of sta……”

Cust: (interrupting even more abruptly) “Well why not?”

Me: “…..!!?!….Errrm….??!!!?…….”

Whereupon the customer stomped off complaining about my disgraceful attitude.

With umpteen years hindsight I would have liked to give the answer “Unfortunately they have a stringently enforced ‘No Tosspots’ policy, but the moment may have gone

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