Taking Regular Checkups To The Next Level

, , , | Healthy | December 29, 2017

(We’ve had a horrific week. My toddler came down with chicken pox, then an ear infection. My husband had an accident, causing first, second, and third degree burns all over one hand. I am also seven-months pregnant, and joke that the only thing that HASN’T gone wrong is my going into premature labor.)

Monday Morning: Trip to doctor’s office to confirm chicken pox.

Monday Afternoon: Trip to doctor’s office. We went there instead of the ER for the burn.

Tuesday Morning: Recheck on nasty burn.

Tuesday Afternoon: ‘Well Baby’ check for me.

Thursday Morning: Toddler earache visit.

(We walk into the examination room. A few minutes later, our doctor walks in.)

Doctor: “It’s the [Our Last Name]s! My favorite family!”

Only One Holiday Per Child

, , , , , , , | Working | December 23, 2017

(My family is at the checkout line for our groceries. The checkout clerk comments how my three year old is adorable and well-behaved. I thank her.)

Employee: *to daughter* “You should tell Mommy and Daddy that you want a brother or sister for Christmas!”

(The clerk looks at me and smiles.)

Me: *coldly* “Then it’s a good thing we’re Jewish.”

A Santa Existential Crisis

, , , , | Working | December 22, 2017

(I am assisting a line of parents when a woman storms up to the counter. She seems rather upset. This happens close to Christmas.)

Mother: “Sorry, but could you tell me where [Coworker] is, please?”

(I shout for her.)

Coworker: “Hi! Can I help?”

Mother: “Did you tell my daughter that Santa doesn’t exist?”

(Silence falls on the room.)

Coworker: “How old is she?”

Mother: “Five.”

Coworker: “Yes.”

Mother: “Why?”

Coworker: “Because Christmas is nothing more than a commercial holiday nowadays, and your daughter doesn’t need to be told a MAN is going to be getting her everything she wanted for Christmas.”

Mother: *with a rigid smile* “It was also the only reason what was looking forward to Christmas this year, after seeing her father die right before her eyes last Christmas Day.”

Coworker: *going pale* “Oh, umm—”

Mother: “So, thank you. Thank you for ruining Christmas. The first two Christmases my daughter is going to remember: seeing her father collapse on a dollhouse they were building together, and learning that Santa doesn’t exist from a virtual stranger. Thank you, you self-righteous b****!”

(The woman ran out of the daycare in hysterics. Everyone else then turned towards [Coworker], and she barely had time to escape before utter chaos ensued. We lost a lot of business that day (to which we have yet to recover), and [Coworker] was let go for her conduct. I got in touch with the woman with condolences and apologies. She accepted, but said she wouldn’t be coming back. I don’t blame her.)

Pumping Out One Last Christmas Miracle

, , , | Right | December 22, 2017

(It’s right at closing two days before Christmas. We’ve already stayed open two hours later than usual and the staff are exhausted. A frantic lady slips in right as my manager is locking the doors.)

Me: “Hi, I’m so sorry. We’re closing—”

Customer: “I know you’re nearly closed, but it’s an emergency!”

Me: *realizing she’s about to cry* “Are you okay, ma’am?”

Customer: “My dog chewed up my breast pump and my baby won’t nurse!”

Me: “What brand is it?” *I’ve spent the last three hours working in the baby department*

Customer: “I need a spare valve and tubing from [Brand].”

Manager: *just about dead on his feet* “Do you know where it is?”

Me: “Keep the last register open a minute longer. We’ve got it in stock, and I know exactly where it is.”

(I run and get it; it only takes me a minute to find it and return.)

Customer: “My god, you’re an angel. An absolute angel. My daughter’s three weeks old, and she won’t breastfeed, so I need the pump, and this is a Christmas miracle! I’m so sorry I made you stay later than you had to.”

Me: “Don’t worry about it; it was an emergency. Merry Christmas!”

(She even came back the next day with cookies!)

1 Thumbs

Unangelic Behavior

, , , , , , , | Related | December 21, 2017

(It’s nearly Christmas and we are finishing the decorations in our living room, including our so-called “Angelic quartet”. It’s a local variation to American “Elf on the Shelf,” with four winged plaster statuettes, nearly the size of newborn babies, sitting and playing, so you can arrange them on the furniture around the Christmas tree, and creep the hell out of any normal guy like me. I make a throwaway comment:)

Me: “I could really do without these dead children.”

(Later, at lunch, my nine-year-old granddaughter suddenly turns to my wife, and asks:)

Granddaughter: “Grandma, why does Grandpa call the little angels ‘dead children’?”

Grandma: “Yes, honey, why do you call them that?”

(The ungrateful bunch of cockroaches I call “family” put down their utensils and look at me expectantly, stopping short of grabbing popcorn.)

Me: “You know, some people believe that if a little baby dies, they immediately get wings and become angels, so they can fly to visit their families any time they feel sad and alone.”

(My granddaughter looks at me, pondering, then turns to my wife:)

Granddaughter: “Grandpa is also a bit of a joker, right?”

(I still call it a win!)

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