Something Fishy About His Ticket  

, , , | Right | October 4, 2019

(I work at a reggae festival every year with some family and friends. We usually have our shift at the entrance, where we check if people wanting to get in have the correct wristband to be allowed in, or if they have a correct form of prepayment, scan that and give them a wristband before letting them in. Without a correct wristband or prepayment form, they are not allowed in. This happens during a rather quiet moment of few people coming through my lane at the entrance.)

Me: “Hi there.”

Customer: “Hi. Can I come in?”

Me: “I see you’re not wearing the wristband. Did you prepay online? Because if so, show me the form and I can give you a wristband.”

Customer: “Nope.”

(The customer just keeps staring at me for a moment.)

Me: “All right… You can go there to get your wristband, then. It will cost [amount] and I can let you through when you come back wearing it.”

(I point in the direction he needs to go. He, however, looks that way, turns back to me, stares for a moment, and speaks up again.)

Customer: “Can you let me in if I give you a fish?”

Me: “Sorry, what?”

Customer: “A fish!”

(The customer proceeds to open his backpack and take out a living goldfish in a small plastic bag filled with water.)

Me: *taken aback slightly* “Where did you even get that?”

(The customer doesn’t say anything; he just seems to point in a general direction.)

Me: “Sorry, man, no. Can’t let you in. You should go get a wristband there.”

Customer: “Bummer.”

(The customer then sat down next to the entrance, until a moment that one of the lanes was abandoned because the wristband checker there had to do something quickly and the guy just ran through. People like me are not allowed to physically stop or chase people; that’s what we have a security guard for. The security guard looked at the dude sprinting and followed him with his eyes running all the way out of sight around a corner, at which points he slowly got up, let out a loud sigh, and started walking in the direction the guy had run in. Fish dude got free entrance that day.)

 

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Clueless Is Contagious

, , , , | Friendly | September 27, 2019

(I am selling comics at an outdoor comic festival on a busy street in my city when an older man walks up to my booth.)

Man: “Hey, [My Name]! How are you?!”

Me: “I’m… good?”

(I have no clue who this man is, but he immediately starts talking to me in a way that implies he knows me personally. He also asks how my mother is doing and if her back pain is feeling any better yet, and asks that I tell her he said hi. It’s very common for me not to recognize or remember people, especially at conventions and book fairs. I deal with hundreds of customers in several events per year, but people still expect me to remember that time they bought a book from me three years ago and get offended if I don’t, so I always try to put on a warm smile and pretend like I remember them. I smile and nod, awkwardly sitting at my booth, listening to this guy have a rather one-sided conversation with me and feeling frustrated at all the potential sales I might be missing out on while he blocks my booth. Suddenly, an old woman walks up to him excitedly.)

Old Woman: “Oh, hey!

Man: “Oh! Hi!

(They excitedly greet each other and break into an energetic conversation as the woman tries to catch up with him, asking him how his family is doing and immediately telling him what’s new with hers. Meanwhile, I’m relieved that I don’t have to talk to him anymore, so I just play with my phone and wait for them to finish. After a nice, friendly conversation, they finally wrap it up and the woman leaves, as he waves her goodbye. Then, he leans over to me, covering his mouth and whispering out of the side of his mouth:)

Man: “That was all well and good, but I haven’t got a clue who that was!”

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Gives New Meaning To “Spillover” Parking

, , , | Right | August 9, 2019

(I am working for a large music festival doing gate security. I often have to deal with drunk or confused individuals, but this guy was my favorite.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t come in without a ticket.”

Drunk: “I am trying to find my car.”

Me: “Okay, sir, but the parking lot is in the other direction; this is the festival grounds.”

Drunk: “I know that. I parked my car over there—” *waves hand towards fairgrounds* “—I need to get through to get to my car.”

Me: *look over shoulder* “Sir, the other side of the grounds is Lake Michigan. Are you trying to tell me you parked in the lake?”

Drunk: “Yes. Can I come in now?”

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The Poo Crew Adventures

, , , , , | Right | March 22, 2019

(A festival I am working at uses composting toilets. Commodes have been set up, with wheely bins below them to collect the waste. The crew that is running it, colloquially known as the “Poo Crew,” have set up this business and go from site to site, managing the waste. As we are packing down the festival, I get to chatting with one of the owners. He is telling me about a festival he had done outside of Sydney, with thousands of people over several days. People camping out there, or just visiting for the day. As you can imagine, there was a lot of work for the Poo Crew. One woman approached the Poo Crew manager stating she had lost her purse down the privy. Whilst it’s not pleasant, the Poo Crew do get up to their armpit in the waste, but it’s not something that they like to do for free. The owner asked the woman which privy she had used.)

Woman: “Oh, I’m not sure. It was two nights ago. Can you just try a couple of them?”

Owner: “Well, we’re composting down this site over the next couple of months. If your purse turns up we’ll call you.”

(I would have been tempted to ask her to go through the bins herself!)

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Beerly Survived That One

, , , , | Working | January 15, 2019

(I’m at a festival, buying items from a merchant.)

Me: “Do you take cards?”

Merchant: *takes my card* “I take them, but I don’t give them back. Have a nice day.” *turns and steps into his tent, then returns a moment later with a sigh* “You’re going to want this back, aren’t you?”

Me: “Well, I haven’t had any food yet.”

Merchant: *starts processing payment* “Food? Who needs food? Food’s overrated!”

Me: “I haven’t had any beer yet, either.”

Merchant: “Fair enough. I’ll have mercy on you. Food, you can live without, but beer is a necessity.”

(I took my purchase and my card, and went to get some food and beer.)

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