, , , | Right | May 21, 2020

I overhear this at the hotel where I work.

Guest: “Yeah, I think we are going to go to the pizza restaurant tonight. We have not had Spanish food yet this trip.”

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Unfiltered Story #194437

, | Unfiltered | May 19, 2020

(I was working in a call center doing tech support for a company offering cable TV, VoIP and internet services. At the time I had a trainee listening in on my calls to get a feeling for the “real thing”.)

Me: “Hello, this is [Name] speaking, how may I help you?”

Customer: “My TV isn’t working. There’s nothing on the screen, it’s just black!”

Me: “I see. Well, we should be able to fix that – is there a light burning at the front of your TV anywhere?”

Customer: “Yes. A red one.”

Trainee next to me begins to laugh – quietly, at least.

Me: (still calm, because this was not unusual) “Alright, would you please get your TV remote for me and press the ‘standby’-button?”

Customer: (annoyed at this point) “Can’t you just fix it? Well, okay – yes, I tried it just now, it doesn’t work!”

Trainee stops laughing and looks worried, thinking we have a real problem at hand.

Me: “That’s alright, sir. I’d like to try just one more thing. On your TV remote, is there a button showing a circle with a line going through it pointing up? It’s probably a red button or the circle is red.”

Customer: (impatient) “Yes, yes there is one. Should I press that?”

Me: (poker face) “Please do.”


Customer: “Oh God, that worked! The light turned green! Thank you so much!”

Me: “I’m glad I was able to help. Have a nice evening.”

After the customer had hung up, I had to spend a few minutes getting the trainee to calm down – which worked after he realised that he’d be dealing with A LOT of this in future, poor thing.

You Can’t Even Escape Essays In Physical Education!

, , , | Learning | May 13, 2020

Due to an ongoing sickness, I miss more than half of the whole year’s PE classes. While I am obviously excused and not written down for skipping class or anything, my teacher still pulls me aside a few weeks before we get our final marks.

Teacher: “Listen. With the little time you’ve been in class, I can’t properly grade you. The school requires a certain amount of participation in class, and we don’t have homework or exams to get points in PE, either, so right now you’re at about 20%. That’s a failing grade.”

Me: “Uh, okay. Is there any other way I can make up points for missing class?”

Teacher: “I really can’t think of anything sensible. All I can do is give you a topic to write a paper on, and enter it as participation into the system.”

Me: “I can do that; I like writing papers. What topic?”

Teacher: “Uh, volleyball.”

Me: “Just… volleyball?”

Teacher: “Yeah.”

Me: “Like, the history of it? Professional volleyball? What?”

Teacher: “Just volleyball.”

Me: “You mean how to play?”

Teacher: “Yes, sure, let’s do that.”

I wrote a five-page paper about How To Play Volleyball, which meant I basically copy-pasted the rules of volleyball and drew some diagrams of the field and player positions. My teacher loved it and actually used it as a guideline in future classes doing volleyball.

The year after, I missed most of PE again because of my sickness, and I was given yet another topic to do a paper on — basketball this time. Rinse and repeat for my entire high school career. No one at the school ever thought about maybe excusing me from PE entirely, since it was a required class and there was no option for me to have any other class as a replacement.

I ended up graduating with a rather mediocre but acceptable grade in PE, having barely done any sports at all. I kind of feel like the school’s grading system never considered how to actually grade physical classes.

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Thanks For The Trauma, Mama!

, , , , | Related | May 12, 2020

My mother and I went shopping one day when I was sixteen. I’ve been cursed with really large breasts; it looks odd as they don’t fit the rest of my body and they give me back pain, so there’s really nothing good about them. I decided to finally get professionally measured to find the correct size.

Up to this day, I was wearing an 80B. When the lady was done measuring and gave me a bra to try on, I was completely stunned. 

Before, I always had to hold my chest when I went down the stairs or when I bent over to make sure nothing fell out. With this bra, I could even jump and everything stayed in place; it was an 80E and fit perfectly.

I went to my mother, who waited for me at the register, and happily told her I’d found the perfect bra. When I told her my right size, she snapped.

“Who do you think you are?” she said. “Do you think you’re better than the rest of us? I will not buy this piece of s***. Your sister has a B and so do you; don’t think you’re special!” 

Then, she dragged me out of the store. 

As I was not allowed to get a job, I had to wait two more years until I moved out to finally buy underwear that fit. 

My mother still thinks she is in the right and can’t understand why my sisters and I needed therapy after growing up with her.

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Rage Against The Machine, Part 7

, , , , | Right | May 11, 2020

I’m working as a teller at a bank and have just completed a withdrawal for a customer. It works like this: I type in the amount the customer wants and swipe his card, and he signs for it and goes to one of the cash machines to get the money, because we don’t store money at the till.

When I give customers back their card, I always make sure that I give it to them the way they need to insert the card. I also explain exactly what they must do — including clear gestures — at the cash machine. 

They just need to insert the card, which comes out only a few seconds later. Then, the money comes out. No typing, just put the card into the machine, grab your card and the money, and you’re good to go. 

The customer I just served returns to my till. He’s in his late thirties and absolutely furious.

Customer: “Your f****** machine is broken! It didn’t give me my money! I can’t believe this d*** bank; you get nothing right and every time I come here you just f*** everything up!”

I glance at the cash machine, which is working just fine with another customer.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, may I see how you’ve inserted your card? The chip needs to be—”

Customer: “The h*** I will! You just want to take even more of my money! You’ll refund me the money right now!”

Me: “Sir, please calm down. If you would insert your card again, with the chip at the front top, the cash machine can read the card and will give you your money.”

Customer: “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. This d*** thing isn’t working! It’s not my fault you’re too dumb to do your job.”

He tosses the card, which he was holding in his hand the entire time, at me.

Customer: “Here is your f****** rubbish. I want a new card. One that works this time. Do you understand me, you stupid b****?”

Me: “Sir, is this the card you were using?” 

Customer: “Of course, it is!”

Me: “Well, sir, I might be a stupid b****, but at least I know that a cash machine won’t work with an ID.”

He looks at his ID in my hand, looks at me, grabs the ID and walks straight out of our branch. 

When I looked into the notes on his account I saw that this was not the first time he’d yelled at and insulted coworkers. I was more than happy to get permission from my boss to send him a nice letter saying that we would be closing his account due to his repeated intolerable behavior.

Rage Against The Machine, Part 6
Rage Against The Machine, Part 5
Rage Against The Machine, Part 4

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