Good People Are Noticed When Bad Things Happen

, , , , , | Learning | June 2, 2017

In this school, while the pupils have lockers, these are not big enough to keep all your things in them. So the pupils put their coats on hangers in the classroom. Usually, the classrooms are supposed to get locked up during recess, but the teachers don’t always follow through with this rule.

So, one day, my daughter comes home, having an amount of money stolen from her — near to 100 €. Due to the circumstances, it is certain none of her classmates could be the thief, as they all go to another, specialised classroom while another class uses their room, as is not uncommon in German schools.

It’s all her pocket money, saved up, and while it really wasn’t the best decision to take so much money to school without any need to, it still is theft. She reports the theft to the responsible teacher. The teacher tells her to wait a few days while the class teachers will announce to the involved classes the story of the theft and their policy of “all will be forgotten if you return the money.”

But, only a day later, I find a letter in our postbox, addressed to my daughter but having no stamps nor a sender address. When she opens the letter, she finds in it the amount stolen from her and an unsigned card, saying “This is for you, even if the stolen money turns up again.”

Since she doesn’t know who gave her the money, on the next occasion, she makes a thank you speech in front of class and treats everybody, including her teacher, to a popsicle, because she’s so overwhelmed by this.

Due to some hints in the letter and the card, we’re pretty certain guessing which of her teachers gave the money.

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Getting Heated About The Lack Of It

, , , | Right | May 10, 2017

(In our store, you can have your sandwich toasted before adding vegetables. It’s below freezing temperature outside.)

Customer: “This is outrageous! I bought a sandwich here half an hour ago and when I got home, it was cold! I want my money back!”

Me: “Sir, did you by any chance walk home?”

Customer: “Yes, but that only takes fifteen minutes! You should be able to guarantee that it will still be warm when I want to eat it!”

Me: “It’s 30° F outside. The sandwich is bound to get cold and there is nothing I can do about it. You could always eat your sandwich in here, though.”

Customer: “That’s horrible customer service! I want my money back or I’ll complain about you!”

Me: “You do that, sir. Have a nice day.”

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Blue In The Face Over The Dino

, , , , , | Learning | September 25, 2015

(My fourth-grade teacher is a huge sourpuss and hands out lots of busywork so she can take breaks from hands-on teaching. This time, she hands out simple prints of dinosaurs and announces that we will be coloring them in, working in pairs. I grab a blue crayon and start adding stripes on the back.)

Girl: *who I’m working with* “What are you doing?!”

Me: “I’m making stripes.”

Girl: “But that’s wrong! The teacher said that dinosaurs are brown or green. You’re not supposed to use blue!”

Me: *shrugging* “So what? It’s just coloring.”

Girl: “But dinosaurs aren’t blue! They’re green or brown! The teacher said!

Me: “How do you know what colors dinosaurs were? People have only ever seen their bones anyway, so we have no idea what color their hides were.”

Girl: “I’m telling! You’re going to be in trouble!” *raising her hand* “Mrs. [Teacher]! She’s coloring her dinosaur blue!”

Teacher: *rolling her eyes and heaving a sigh* “[My Name], you can’t color your dinosaur blue. They are either green or brown. Look, everyone else is coloring their dinosaurs the right way.”

Me: “What was the point of giving us a whole box of crayons, then?”

Teacher: “[My Name]! There is no talking back! If you can’t color your dinosaur the right way, then you can sit out the activity. It’s all right, [Girl]; you don’t have to work with her.”

Me: “Fine. There’s no point in doing it anyway.”

Teacher: “Excuse me?”

Me: “I’m not going to sit here and color in a dinosaur solid green or brown because I’m told to. It’s boring and a pointless waste of time.”

Teacher: “[My Name], go to the principal’s office now and wait there! I will come to deal with you later!”

(The other students giggle and mock me as I leave the room. I wait on the bench outside the office for a long time before my teacher comes down and goes into the principal’s office. They talk for several minutes before I am called in.)

Principal: “[My Name], your teacher here tells me that you were being very disruptive during a class activity, that you upset your classmate, and then when you were told to behave you talked back to her and called the assignment stupid. Is that true?”

Me: “Yes, but—”

Principal: “No buts! There is no possible excuse you can make for this behavior. These kinds of transgressions can be punished with suspension, and your teacher does not want you to return to the classroom and ruin her lessons. You will wait until your mother comes to get you and we will all have a talk.”

(The teacher gives me a smug look as I go back outside to wait on the bench in the hall. My mother works outside the base, so it is over an hour before she shows up, looking angry. She checks in with the secretary.)

Mom: “[My Name], what did you do this time?!”

Principal: “Oh, good, you’re here. [Secretary], please call her teacher and let her know this student’s mother has arrived so that we can discuss her behavior. [My Name], why don’t you tell your mother why you’re in trouble?”

Me: “I’m getting suspended for coloring my dinosaur blue when apparently, they’re only supposed to be green or brown.”

Mom: “Seriously?”

Principal: “And what else?”

Me: “And then, the teacher told me I wasn’t allowed to color if I wasn’t going to do it right, so I said it was stupid to even give us crayons if we were only allowed to use two colors and that it was a waste of time anyway. Then she sent me out to the office.”

Principal: *giving my mother a look* “You see? We simply cannot have this behavior. We’re afraid she might be a bad influence on the other children.”

Mom: “Are you KIDDING ME? You kept my daughter out of class for almost two hours, called me out of work, and made me go through all those checkpoint gates because SHE WASN’T COLORING LIKE A GOOD LITTLE ROBOT?! WHAT THE H*** IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Principal: *stammering* “Uh, w-w-well, we—”

Mom: “And how did you say you were planning to punish her?”

Principal: “Um, ahem, well, because of the way she spoke to her teacher, we are looking at a minimum of a three-day suspension.”

Teacher: *walks in, looking pleased* “That’s right. And she made the classmate she was assigned to work with cry.”

Me: *sarcastically* “Sheesh, she actually cried?”

Teacher: *smiling at my Mother* “You see what we’ve been dealing with? And then she told me I was wasting her time.”

Mom: “Good for her. She was right.”

Teacher: “I- I beg your pardon?”

Mom: “First of all, she’s ten. I don’t know about your other students who cry like babies over their dinosaur being ‘colored wrong,’ but she is way too old to be coloring with crayons as a class activity, especially if it’s just an exercise in conformity.”

Teacher: “Uh, well, that’s not the point! The lessons are about following steps and instructions—”

Mom: “Pfft, give me a break. It was COLORING, not science. Don’t give my daughter crayons if you don’t want her to be creative, don’t waste her time with crayons and call it teaching, and don’t waste my time and call me out of my job because you can’t do yours. I’m taking my daughter back with me today, and I will be looking into a new school for her.” *to me* “I can’t believe you have to put up with this.”

Me: “Me, neither.”

(We left the teacher and principal red-faced and speechless, and later, my mom bought me a giant box of crayons.)

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Please Stop ‘Schwer’-ing

, | Right | August 13, 2015

(I work in a climbing hall which contains a large boulder area where are three levels of difficulty marked with the letters S, M, L. This means ‘Schwer’, the highest difficulty, ‘Mittel’ which is a medium route to climb and ‘Leicht’ for the easiest options. There is a sign next to the entrance explaining the rating system and the whole word the letters stand for is written in small text under the difficulty-signs. A female customer approaches me.)

Customer: “Hi there, I have a question about the boulder difficulties written on the signs.”

Me: “Sure, go ahead.”

Customer: “First, why are the boulders rated with clothing sizes? And why are the ‘S’ routes so insane difficult? I didn’t even manage to do one of them?”

Me: “Miss, you realize the letters do not stand for small, medium, and large? In fact, there’s a sign two meters from you explaining the difficulties and it’s also written beneath every sign here. ‘S’ therefore is the most difficult thing you can do here.”

Customer: “I don’t care about your god-d*** f****** signs explaining s***! S,M,L are definite clothing sizes as they have always been! Now move you lazy a** and reassign those f****** signs so I can climb my ‘S’ routes as I want!”

Me: “I’m sorry, madam, that the standard system of rating boulders does not fit your expectations. Nevertheless, I cannot and will not change the standardised system as it would confuse every other customer. Also I have to ask you to watch your language as there are children close by.”

(By saying that I can see the customer is not going to accept the answer and indeed she goes off, shouting me names and threatening to push the stones into my butt if I won’t serve her the way she wants.)

Me: “Madam, please try to calm down and please stop swearing; it disturbs our other customers, especially the children!”

(The customer by now ignores me and is shouting in full voice about the system. The manager comes over and gets the customer escorted out by two coworkers.)

Manager: “So, let me guess. That lady could not get over the shock of hearing that S,M,L are not always clothing sizes, too?”

Me: “‘too’? You mean this was not the first time that happened?”

Manager: “Well, let’s say some women are a bit special about stuff concerning their clothes…”

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Needs To Map Out Videogame History

, | Related | July 24, 2015

(We’ve been talking about great April Fools things that had happened.)

Me: “Oh, and you should go to Google Maps; theirs still works. You can go to a random point on the map and play Pac-Man there!”

Mom: “What’s Pac-Man?”

Me: “Seriously?!”

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