Watership Down With GM Pet Food

, , | Friendly | July 15, 2017

(A couple we’re friends with is hosting a board game party. They own rabbits they currently keep on the balcony. During a game break, the girlfriend steps outside to feed the rabbits. A few seconds later, a dog on the street starts barking loudly.)

Other Friend: *wide-eyed* “What the h*** have you been feeding those rabbits?!”

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Unfiltered Story #90901

, | Unfiltered | July 15, 2017

(As a teenager I had braces that were – in some way – done incorrectly and over the course of the treatment the enamel of my teeth started to deteriorate. Since I was a quiet and shy teenager I didn’t speak out and got in a somewhat vicious cicle of dental hygiene since properly cleaning my teeth started to hurt. After a while I even stopped going to the dentist because I was so ashamed. However, in my twenties I started seeing an amazing dentist who was very empathetic and didn’t judge. Session by session we started ironing things out but for a very special procedure he transfered me to a dental surgeon. This takes place at my first appointment before she even took a look at my teeth.)

Dentist: Hello [my name]. Nice to meet you! May I ask: How old are you?

Me: Hi … uhhm … Im 24. Why?

Dentist: Yeah, I thought so. But from your x-rays I’d guessed you would be 60.

Me *embarrassed*: Yeah, I know. But I try to contain the damage now.

Dentist: You got to start cleaning your teeth better!

Me: I’m cleaning them at least twice a day now. If you take a look you’ll see I really started taking dental hygiene very serious and try to save what can be saved. But the damage has been done. Still, I really clean my teeth.

Dentist: Don’t give me that spiel. I’ve seen how many fillings you have. You do a terrible job of keeping your teeth healthy.

Me *miserable*: Yes. Im very sorry. I know.

Dentist: You know how ugly such teeth are, right? You’re 23. Probably looking for a nice girl to marry some day. But I’m gonna tell you right now: With those teeth you’ll never find a girl!

Me *on the verge of tears*: I’m really trying to take better care. [Dentist] always told me I’m really doing a good job now. I’ve didn’t have a new cavity in 2 years.

Dentist: Well, I don’t care. Your mouth is ugly. And you’re probably gonna die alone with such bad mouth hygiene. Now go make an appointment with my receptionist for next month so we can start making you look human again.

(I didn’t want to object to her but I didn’t make an appointment and even almost quit the ongoing procedure with my regular dentist. He had to talk to me for an hour until I was ready to keep going. He also said he wouldn’t transfer patients to this dental surgeon anymore.)


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Common Decency Has Checked Out

, , | Friendly | July 11, 2017

(I come to check out. While waiting to put my groceries on the counter, first an older gentleman with only a bag of chips and later a kid with only a carton of ice cream get in line behind me and I let both of them go before me when I notice. Shortly after I start to put on my stuff, the next customer to get in line behind me addresses me rudely. Note that I usually leave a gap for other customers with one or two items at the beginning.)

Customer: “Let me go in front of you.”

(I turn around and look first at her cart which is about as full as mine, then her.)

Me: “Why?”

Customer: “You let those two go first, so you should let me, too.”

Me: *blinks confused* “No?”

Customer: *glares* “Yes.”

Me: *thinks that she maybe is in a hurry* “Do you have to be somewhere? Because if you don’t, I really don’t have a reason to let you go first.”

Customer: “That’s none of your business. You only don’t want to let me go first because you are sexist.”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “You heard me!”

Me: “So, you are saying I, obviously female, am sexist for letting two males who only had one thing each? Did I get that right?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: *turns around and proceeds putting my stuff on the counter*

(For a moment the customer is quiet before she starts squeezing between me and the other line with some of her stuff in her arms. Thankfully my cart has turned slightly and is blocking her.)

Me: “What are you doing?”

Customer: “You clearly left some space for ME because you do realize this is my rightful place, so I am taking it.”

Me: “No. That space is for one to two-item customers. Which at this point I am willing to let go in front of me even if they arrive after you, because you have been a jerk to me this entire time and I am a bit petty. Considering other customers probably heard you from across the shop, they will know why.”

(The customer continues to glare at me while I finish putting my groceries on the band and starts slamming her own onto it long before I am finished and not even just behind mine, instead putting her first item next to my last one. When I move to move it a bit back to put the divider-triangle-thing between our groceries she grabs my wrist.)

Customer: “Don’t touch my f***ing groceries!” *I refuse to answer that and instead go to move my own item* “WHAT DID I JUST SAY!”

Me: “I want to put my own item away so I can place the di—”


Me: “No. Let go of my wrist. You are starting to hurt me and if you damage it, I will take up charges.”

(Shocked, the customer let go and I grabbed my item, placed the divider, and started stacking my groceries, which I usually don’t like doing because I am terrible at balancing things. The rest of me paying for my groceries thankfully went out without a hitch and the cashier apologized for not reacting but said the way I was standing up to the customer suggested I had everything under control. I was too nervous to tell her the reason I hadn’t looked around for help was that that would have required eye contact which I am pretty much unable to initiate or hold.)

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The Student Is Not Always Right

, , | Learning | June 30, 2017

(I’m standing second in line at a copy shop. The clerk is dealing with the customer in front of me who seems to be late for his bachelor thesis’ deadline.)

Employee: “Okay. That would be [price] and it will be ready in an hour for pick up or—”

Customer: *interrupting* “I’m sorry… WHEN?!”

Employee: “In an hour approximately. 12:30 pm.”

Customer: “Okay … And how are you planning to reimburse me?”

Employee: “I’m afraid I can’t follow you. Why would we need to reimburse you?”

Customer: “A friend of mine said adhesive binding only takes 15 minutes! The offices for university close at noon! You are responsible for me missing my deadline and having to repeat!”

Employee: “This time of year a lot of people need to turn in their theses. All we can do is—”

Customer: *interrupting* “You’re kidding right? Are you f****** serious?! NO! YOU’LL GET IT DONE IN 15 MINUTES OR REIMBURSE ME!”

Employee: *handing back the flash drive* “Tell you what: I’m going to do none of that. Please leave! Have a nice day and good luck!”

(The customer leaves, screaming profanities and how the copy shop is responsible for him failing his bachelor thesis. I step forward.)

Me: “Hi, I need an adhesive binding for my bachelor thesis, too. I’m a bit afraid to ask because of… well, all that… but my professor told me that you deliver to the university and that, if it’s printed the day of the deadline, it counts as turned in in time …”

Employee: “Sure thing. Yes, it does. We work closely with [University] and do that quite often.” *laughing* “I would’ve told him if he wouldn’t have interrupted me to make an a** of himself. Let’s just hope he learned a lesson from this, if it’s only not to wait until the last minute to get stuff printed.”

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My Knife, Your Problem

, , , | Working | June 27, 2017

(My dad owns a small business for tinsmithing. We recently hired a new employee. For this story let’s say my dad’s initials are M.K.)

Dad: “Hey, didn’t I give you my knife today on site?”

New Hire: “Yeah, I gave it back to you right afterwards.”

Dad: “Are you sure? Because I can’t find it anywhere…”

New Hire: “Well, I don’t know what to say to you. Maybe you lost it somewhere?”

(A few days go by. My dad sees New Hire working with a knife that looks exactly like his. He lets him turn it around and, sure enough, there are the initials M.K. written in permanent marker on the clip.)

New Hire: “What do you mean?! That’s mine! I bought it a few weeks ago!”

Dad: “Well, then why is there written M.K. on YOUR knife?”

New Hire: “It stands for… my knife!”

(My dad did let him keep the knife since it was a cheap one and it may have been a honest mistake and he simply was ashamed to admit that he took it. However, New Hire was let go shortly afterwards, still in his probation period, when money went missing from the locker room.)

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