Blogging A Dead Horse

, , , , | Right | January 22, 2018

(A woman in her late 40s recently hired me to add analytics to her blog. It’s basically just a vanity blog about being rich and complaining about how no one goes to church anymore and how “political correctness” is ruining society. I cringe a few times as I am reading it while I install the analytics. Nevertheless, it is a paying job and I’m not here to judge, so I do what I am paid to do, am paid for it, and move on. A month later, I get a call from her.)

Customer: “Your analyser is broken! It’s not showing the right numbers!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I’ll just go and have a look.” *checks it all out* “I’m seeing ten page loads this week. I just reloaded it, and now it’s clicked to eleven. It all seems to be working properly.”

Customer: “No, no, no! I get way more views than that!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but how do you know?”

Customer: “My husband says he reads it every day! So do all of his employees, and all my friends from bridge club, and my neighbors say they read it, too!”

(Realization slowly dawns on me.)

Me: “Oh, okay. I’m so sorry it doesn’t seem to be working correctly. I’ll look into it.”

(Stumped as to what to do, I end up finding her husband’s email address and warning him about the analytics. I get a one-line email back.)

Husband: “Well, f***. Any chance I could pay you again to just take it off the site?”

(I declined. I’m not sure what happened, but I never heard from them again.)

Unfiltered Story #104095

, , | Unfiltered | January 21, 2018

I’m in line at a coffee shop chain. I don’t typically like much more than basic iced coffee, but it’s been a crappy week, so I decide to treat myself to a blended iced mocha drink. As I’m waiting for my drink, the guy who was behind me in line is looking me up and down with a smirk, standing entirely too close given we are the only two people there and don’t know one another. When I make eye contact with him, he grins and raises an eyebrow, gesturing to encompass my body.

Jerk: You know if you start drinking stuff like that, you’re going to ruin everything you’ve got going on.

I just stare at him for a second, roll my eyes, and turn away until my drink is called. As I walk off, I hear him call me a “rude *****”. I’m not sure how me deciding not to respond to his unsolicited commentary about my body is ruder than him offering it in the first place, but oh well. I guess that’s a pretty basic rude ***** thing to wonder. If only I’d opened myself up to his wisdom!

When You’re Actively Thinking About Running Someone Over

, , , , , , | Friendly | January 18, 2018

(I’m leaving to pick my partner up from work. Unfortunately, my phone is broken, but I send an email to my partner’s phone saying I’ll meet them outside. I go down the street, and there’s a man standing in the middle of the road. Cars are parked on either side, so I can’t get past. He comes up to me and stands in front of my car.)

Man: “Hey! Cold weather we’re having.”

Me: “Yeah…”

Man: “You know, it’s never been this cold before.” *he starts rambling about the cold* “So, have you always lived in Florida?”

Me: “No, I lived in Colorado before, but I really have to go–”

Man: “Colorado! They’ve got good skiers up there! Everyone’s a skier!”

(He starts talking about some ski accident he once had. Every time I try to talk, he interrupts me and talks faster. Eventually, his ski story is over and I think I’ll finally be released.)

Me: “Wow. Anyway, I should get–”

Man: “Do you follow sports?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Man: “Well, I love football. The teams I follow used to be…“

(He keeps talking about how his team loyalty changes every time he moves. I cannot get a word in. He moves his arms a lot when he talks, and I’m starting to hope that he pokes himself with the tool he’s holding, just enough to make him leave. Finally, his monologue runs out of steam. He steps to the side and I speed out of there and end up being 20 minutes late.)

Partner: “Oh, my God! I thought you were in an accident! I was ready to call my mom and have her backtrack through the route.”

Me: *explains*

Partner: “Well, I know someone who’s not getting a Christmas card this year.”


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Look Dead On The Inside

, , , , , | Working | January 15, 2018

(In preparation for an overseas trip, I’m getting my passport photo taken. Note that the usual requirements as far as expression are either a neutral expression or a natural smile.)

Mom: “Smile for the camera!”

Employee: “You don’t have to do that. Just pretend you’re at the DMV!”

(It took me a bit to stop laughing enough to actually take the photo.)

Hands-Off Tamp-On

, , , , , , , | Working | January 14, 2018

(My coworker and I are putting items back on the shelves. I’ve got an armful of beauty products that I’m putting back, in addition to a whole cart full of items that a customer left. He’s just standing there, watching. He’s male, I’m female. We’re both in college.)

Me: “Hey, there’s a few boxes of tampons in the cart that go on this aisle. Can you put them back?”

Coworker #1: “Ew! No, you do it.”

Me: “Okay, then you come put all this makeup back.”

Coworker #1: “No way; that’s girl stuff!”

Me: “Then put the tampons away.”

Coworker #1: “That’s so gross.”

Me: “They’re not used, you idiot. They’re individually wrapped in a freaking box.”

Coworker #1: “I’m not touching those.”

Me: “What are you going to do when you get a girlfriend?”

Coworker #1: “She’s buying her own tampons.”

([Coworker #2], also a college-age guy, walks over.)

Coworker #2: “[Coworker #1], man, you’ve got to be kidding me. Dumba**.”

(He grabs the boxes of tampons out of the cart and puts them back on the shelf.)

Coworker #2: “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

(He high-fived me and headed back to his register.)

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