Unfiltered Story #197463

, | Unfiltered | June 17, 2020

(I work as a cashier at a discount grocery store. In Germany, the custromer always has to bag the items themselves, so we have a bagging area between the till and the exit. It’s just a table next to a wall with some bins and looks not like a till at all. I was just cleaning a shelve when I see an old lady approach the till with a few items, but walking past it to the bagging area, where another customer was just bagging his items. I was just about to tell her, she can’t leave the store without paying, when she spoke to the other customer.)

Old Lady: „Excuse me, is this the till?“

The Nudist, The Thief, And The Scaredy-Cat

, , , , , , , | Friendly | June 16, 2020

I’m in my mid-twenties when I decide to join the Couchsurfing community and host travelers visiting my city. For those of you who don’t know Couchsurfing: it’s a platform through which one can find a place to stay with a local when travelling instead of staying at a hotel. It’s a bit like Airbnb, but unlike Airbnb, you don’t have to pay for the room. Still, many guests bring a small gift from their country or hometown, cook dinner, or invite the host to a few drinks at a local pub to show their gratitude.

I’m still a university student living in a shabby flat, but it’s in the city centre and I have a small living room and an air mattress I can offer to surfers. 

Most of the time, it’s a fun experience and the people I meet are great, but sometimes… well. Below are some of the stranger things that have happened to me while hosting surfers.

One time, I host a young woman from East Asia who is traveling Europe and requests to stay at my place for two nights. When she arrives at my place, she jumps at the sight of my dog, who she didn’t expect to be there, even though two of my three profile pictures are photos of my dog and I mention him several times in my profile.

She is obviously scared of dogs, so I ask her if she will be okay staying at my place and offer to help her find a new host if she wants to stay somewhere else. She says it’s fine, but for the two and a half days she stays with me, I have to call my dog and hold him by his collar whenever she needs to go to the bathroom or the kitchen because otherwise, she won’t leave the living room.

But of course, she doesn’t call me when she has to leave the room because that would be too simple. No, she opens the door, sticks out her head to look around, shrieks when she sees my dog, who likes to sleep on the tiles in the hall because it’s summer and really hot outside, and quickly closes the door again.

After a few seconds, she opens the door again and repeats the whole procedure. She keeps doing this until I notice her desperate attempt to leave the living room — which sometimes takes a few minutes — and call my dog.  

In the morning before I go to work, she asks through the closed door if I can lock the dog up in the bedroom during the day, so she feels safe. I politely refuse and suggest she go out and do some sightseeing or shopping while I am at work, which she does. 

Another time, I host a German university student who is visiting my city to attend a conference. She seems nice and normal when she arrives, and we have a very passionate conversation about traveling, literature, and philosophy over a glass of wine when she returns from the conference.

The next morning, I enter my living room and find her taking at least five of my books off my bookshelf and stuffing them into her luggage. When I ask her what she is doing, she simply replies, “Oh, you told me about those books last night and got me totally interested, so I wanted to read them, too.”

She isn’t even embarrassed about getting caught stealing my books and just sits there as I take them out of her suitcase and place them back on the shelf. I then stand next to her until she finishes packing, making sure nothing else catches her interest.

I also host an architecture student from Southern Europe, who is a very polite and respectful guest. It’s the afternoon of the third day of his stay and I want a cup of coffee. On my way to the kitchen, I walk past the living room door, which is wide open, and I decide to offer him a cup of coffee, too.

But when I take a look into the room, I see my guest sitting on the couch wearing only boxer briefs, a towel placed around his neck, his hair still damp. A bit embarrassed, I quickly turn around and apologize for barging in on him like that and explain that I came to ask if he wanted some coffee. He says he would love some coffee and I go to the kitchen, my face red like a firetruck.

About ten minutes later, I return to the living room with two coffees, expecting him to be dressed by now. This time, I ask if it’s okay to come in before entering — just to be safe. He tells me to enter and… he’s still in the same spot wearing nothing but boxer briefs. He thanks me for the coffee and, before I can retreat, starts a conversation about how much he liked one of the museums I recommended.

So, there I am, awkwardly standing in the middle of my tiny living room, having a cup of coffee and a conversation about expressionist art with a naked stranger sitting on my couch.

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Unfiltered Story #196531

, | Unfiltered | June 13, 2020

(I’m a client in this one. Usually I take our cats to the vet on my own, but this time my husband wanted to tag along to see what it’s like. Our vet is great, but my coward of a huge tomcat is terrified of everything he doesn’t know. This time, the vet had to draw some blood for testing. We’d taken my cat our of the carrier, I was holding his back, the vet’s assistant was holding his head, and the vet just shaved part of his front leg.

For those who don’t know: Cats also purr when they’re upset, to calm themselves down.)

Vet: *calmly preparing syringe and talking to the cat* “Aw, I know, it’s all scary, isn’t it? We’ll be done here soon and you can hide in your carrier, don’t worry.”

My husband: *watching in confusion* “He’s… purring. I’ve never heard him purr like that! Does he actually enjoy this?”

Vet: *cheerfully* “No, he thinks I’m about to chop his leg off. Aren’t you a big bad scaredycat who’s afraid I’ll chop his leg off?”

Dogs Will Make Liars Of You Every Time

, , , , , , | Learning | June 6, 2020

My brother used to have an excruciatingly awful PE teacher. She was absurdly strict and demanding, hated boys, often humiliated students for bad performances, and enjoyed hunting in her free time.

Then, my parents got a puppy. It was not their first one, but this one was special. Imagine a hyperactive, overly curious, excitable, enthusiastically friendly, and loving little furball Hell-bent on becoming his new pack’s alpha. He was the sweetest little doggo you could ever meet but incredibly difficult to train. He tried to be a good boy so hard, he really did, but he couldn’t sit still if his life depended on it. 

My parents took him to an obedience school. The trainer there lasted three lessons and then told them to try somewhere else because he couldn’t handle him. The next one threw in the towel after two lessons. The third school was specialized in training gun dogs, but at this point, my parents didn’t really care as long as someone could make the little guy sit.

When my father and Good Boy arrived at the school, guess who greeted them? My brother’s PE teacher! She was a friend of the trainer and learned to train gun dogs in her free time; she had owned dogs all her life, in fact. Seeing how my dad struggled with his dog, she assumed he just didn’t know what he was doing. 

“Give him to me,” she said. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” Seeing how she was strict but friendly toward the other dogs, my dad handed over our puppy. 

Long story short: the puppy won. By the end of the lesson, he was jumping in circles around his new best friend, madly wagging his tail, and the PE teacher was nearly crying. She apologized to my dad. They started talking and he revealed that my brother was in one of her classes; she was mysteriously friendly for him for the rest of his time with her.

The puppy eventually became a fantastic gun dog. He did calm down a bit when he got older, but even when he was ten years old and started getting grey, people would still ask if he was a puppy — “He’s so energetic!” He died of renal failure last year. We decided not to get another dog since none of us can imagine that any other could live up to him.


This story has been included in our June 2020 roundup as one of that month’s most memorable stories!

Want to read the next story? Click here!

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So Much For Birth Control

, , , , | Healthy | June 6, 2020

I’m a doctor working at the surgical emergency ward on a calm Saturday afternoon when a very large woman is brought in via ambulance. I’m wrapping up my last case at the computer but can hear her wailing from behind her curtain; we, unfortunately, don’t have separate rooms.

Another surgeon is with her within minutes.

Doctor: “All right, I’ve heard you called an ambulance for abdominal pain. Have you experienced similar symptoms before?”

Patient: “No! Help! Please, do something!”

Doctor: “Sure, give me just a minute. I need to find out the cause of your pain first to give you the right medication. Could you describe your symptoms a bit more in detail?”

Patient: “I have these cramps. They started early this morning and keep getting worse! Sometimes it’s a bit better but it keeps coming back! Oh, please do something!”

The doctor puts a hand on her belly, frowns, and then looks at her sharply.

Doctor: “Ma’am, is it possible that you’re pregnant?”

Patient: “Aaauuuugh! Ah… No… I don’t think so? I didn’t get my period for some time due to stress…”

The doctor motions for a nurse to get him an ultrasound.

Doctor: “Ma’am, when was your last period?”

Patient: *Winces* “I don’t know? Some months ago… December? No, earlier, I think.”

The nurse comes back with the ultrasound and the doctor finishes his examination. When he puts the probe on her belly…

Doctor: “Wow. I don’t usually get to see this, but it’s quite clear. See here? This is a head, and there’s the spine. With the periodic contractions you’re describing, I’m fairly sure you’re in labour.”

Patient: “What?! No! I can’t!”

Doctor: “Oh. I’m sorry; it seems I was wrong.”

Patient: “Praise the Lord. Don’t scare me like that!”

Doctor: “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. There’s another head. It’s twins.” *To the nurse* “Please inform the gynecologists and call a transport to get her to the labour room.”

Patient: “Noooooooooooo!” *Screams unintelligibly*

Not even half an hour later, we got a call from the gynecologists. It was two healthy babies, seemingly on term, and which blood tests did we already order?

I’m glad they were delivered safely and healthily, but judging by their mom’s reaction to her pregnancy… I can’t help but worry for their future.

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