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Dye-ing With Laughter

, , , , | Related | July 27, 2019

(My sister and I drive to Florida to take my five-year-old grandson to visit his great aunt and 85-year-old great-grandparents — my ex-in-laws. While there, his great aunt is very happy about getting to color Easter eggs with him. Her parents are relaxing in the backyard while she gets everything set up. When she’s done, she tells my grandson:)

Great Aunt: “Okay, go ask Gramma and Grandpa if they’re ready to dye.” 

Me: “NO! NO! WAIT! DO NOT SAY THAT! GO ASK THEM IF THEY’RE READY TO COLOR EGGS!”

Ex-Sister-In-Law: *as we’re all laughing hysterically* “OH, MY GOD! NO! I WASN’T THINKING! AUGH! THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN HORRIBLE!”

Me: “You’re welcome.”

Laptop Of The Class

, , , , | Learning | July 25, 2019

(Due to financial and health issues, I have to do my first two years of college at a community college. I only have one class to go before I finish. I’ll be transferring to my dream college which has a great reputation for my desired major. I show up for my first day of my last class at the community college and set up my laptop for note-taking. The professor walks in.)

Professor: “Good morning, everyone. I’m [Professor], and– Hold on. Who is hiding behind that obnoxious piece of technology in the back?”

(My laptop is pretty small, so there’s no way I could hide even if I wanted to.)

Me: *raising my hand* “Hello!”

Professor: “Who are you and why is that here?”

Me: “I’m [My Name]. My computer? I find that I take better notes on a laptop. I type faster than I write.”

Professor: “Well, Miss [My Name], I don’t like laptops in my class. You’ll be on the Facebook or who knows what while I’m teaching.”

(I turn my computer around to show him that the only window I have open is a blank Microsoft Word document.)

Professor: “Have your other professors let you use that?”

Me: “Yes.”

Professor: “Are you transferring? No university will let you get away with that.”

Me: “Yes, actually, [University I’ve been accepted to] encourages the use of tech during lectures.”

Professor: “Fine. Keep your technology. But the minute you bomb an exam, that thing is gone.”

Me: “No problem.”

(The professor continues to jab at me during the semester, calling on me all the time to answer questions just to make sure I’m not on “the Facebook.” I always answer accurately, and I pass all the exams. Fast forward to the final. I turn mine in.)

Professor: “Hang on. I’m grading everyone’s while they’re here.”

(He quickly runs through mine, marking a few wrong.)

Me: “Well?”

Professor: *sighs* “87%. That makes a final average of…” *taps on a calculator* “90% for the course. I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Me: “So, I guess obnoxious pieces of tech can help students do well?”

(He glared at me as I walked out.)

Lose The Date, Take Home A Plate

, , , , , , | Romantic | July 25, 2019

(I go on a date with a guy I met on a dating app. Things have been great leading up to the date. We talk on the phone every night, text each other all day, Snapchat all day, etc. I am really excited for our first date. The date is going really well. We have great conversation with lots of laughs and smiles. It feels nice and I am having a good time. After finishing his food, the guy excuses himself to the bathroom. He told me ahead of time that he has IBS, so I am not worried when he takes a little longer than usual in the bathroom. But then, five minutes pass. And then ten. Finally, after fifteen minutes, our waiter brings over the bill.)

Waiter: “Here’s your bill. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

Me: “Actually, this is a really weird request, I know, but could you run over to the men’s room to check on my date for me? He’s been in there for 15 minutes and I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. He told me he has IBS, so I wanted to make sure the meal didn’t affect him poorly. I texted him, but he hasn’t responded.”

Waiter: “Not a problem! I was actually about to head over there myself, so I’ll be sure to check if he’s in there. What is his name?”

Me: “His name is [Date].”

Waiter: “Okay! I’ll go see if he’s doing okay.” 

Me: “Thank you so much.”

(The waiter leaves and heads to the bathroom. I check my phone to make sure my date hasn’t texted me back or anything, and then I play a game on my phone while I wait. A few minutes later, my waiter comes back, looking nervous.)

Me: “Did you find him?”

Waiter: “Um, I feel terrible to have to tell you this, but there was no one in the men’s room at all.” 

Me: “What? Are you sure he just wasn’t in a stall?” 

Waiter: “I checked the entire bathroom; there was no one in there. I even called his name to see if he was in there.” 

Me: *visibly upset and confused* “There must be some kind of mistake. Are you sure you didn’t go into the women’s room by mistake?”

Waiter: “Not unless y’all have urinals, too, in there.” 

Me: *fully understanding and on the verge of tears* “You all have a secondary exit over by the bathrooms, don’t you?”

Waiter: “Unfortunately, we do…” 

Me: “All right.” *trying to wipe tears away with my napkin* “Well, let me just try to settle our bill, then. You all shouldn’t have to be stiffed just because this date was a bust.” 

(I take a look at the menu, and it’s about $50. I didn’t budget for that kind of spending tonight. I budgeted for maybe $25 in case my date wanted to split the bill, which would have been fine. But I suck it up and give the waiter my card. He hesitantly takes my card and apologizes again for my unfortunate date. I’m doing my best to keep my crying under control. I text my date again to ask if something came up, maybe an emergency, something to explain why he would have left without saying anything. But when I go to send the message, it won’t go through with iMessage. We both have iPhones, so it should go through as an iMessage. I try calling him. It immediately goes to voicemail. Either his phone is off, or the more likely scenario is that he blocked my number after leaving me alone at the restaurant. I am no longer able to contain my tears. I’m humiliated. I have terrible social anxiety, so this is a horrible situation for me. At a huge, huge low, crying in public, with a bunch of strangers staring at me. Finally, my waiter returns to my table with my card.)

Waiter: “Well, I have a silver lining for you tonight. I’m not allowing you to pay for your meal tonight.” 

Me: “What do you mean? I’m sure there’s enough money on that card. Oh, I hope it wasn’t declined!”

Waiter: “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. You misunderstood me. The restaurant has decided to comp your meal tonight.” 

Me: “What? Oh, no, you can’t do that! This isn’t your fault at all! My meal was wonderful and your service was great. I don’t want you to be blamed or have to pay for this.”

Waiter: “We’ve all been there. My manager agreed that we can spare the expense of one meal tonight. You’ve been through enough. You shouldn’t also have to pay for the meal of that jerk who didn’t even have the decency to say something to your face instead of running out the back door like a coward. Not to mention I had several other customers come up to me offering to help you pay for your meal tonight after overhearing what happened. It’s on the house.”

Me: “Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate this. You’ve definitely helped make this terrible night a little better. Please at least let me tip you.” 

Waiter: “No, ma’am. You just make it home safely tonight. And I wish you better luck in your future.”

(I stood up and hugged the waiter before gathering my things and leaving. A few people gave me encouraging smiles and one older woman whispered to me as I passed to keep my head up.)

The Cutest Little Signature

, , , , | Right | July 24, 2019

(My coworker is cashing out a little boy, about ten or so, who is picking up his mom’s order that she called in. Because the order was over $25, we have to have a signature on the receipt, but having him sign it isn’t a problem, so my coworker hands the receipt and a pen to him.)

Coworker: “All right, I just need your signature on this copy, okay?”

Little Kid: “Um… Can I just write my name? I don’t think I have a signature.”

When A Cake Gets Destroyed You Know It’s Getting Ugly

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

(My boyfriend’s younger sister is pregnant. My boyfriend is super overprotective of his younger sister, and she once told me a story of my boyfriend completely kicking a guy’s a** for trying to get a photo of her chest. I go with my boyfriend to her gender reveal. While the pregnant sister is mingling, we hear a conversation with the older sister.)

Older Sister: “Yeah, I mean, it’d serve her right.”

Their Grandmother: “Don’t say that!”

Older Sister: “Why not? She got married and pregnant before me! She doesn’t deserve to be pregnant! She should get an abortion.”

Boyfriend: “What did you just say?”

Older Sister: “I said, [Younger Sister] shouldn’t be pregnant. She should get an abortion, or at least miscarry, or something. It’s not fair.”

Boyfriend: “Just because every hint of semen that even goes near you immediately realizes how f****** bitter you are and turns the h*** around doesn’t mean you can be a b**** to [Younger Sister]!”

(His older sister gets super offended and goes inside. Ten minutes later, we hear a scream of anger and the younger sister comes outside bawling.)

Younger Sister: “[Older Sister] just destroyed the cake, and told me it was a girl!”

(My boyfriend went rigid and then bolted inside the house. I didn’t follow him, unsure of what to do, but I could hear him screaming at his older sister from outside. Apparently, the family doesn’t talk to her much now, besides her parents.)