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This Hetero Seems Upsetero

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 8, 2021

I regularly have to go to hospital for eye checks, and my husband usually comes with me. On one of the appointments, I had to fill in a standard diversity form. I went in for my appointment, and my husband stayed in the waiting room, where he overheard an old lady and her daughter discussing the form. The daughter was reading the form out to the old lady and filling it in depending on the old lady’s answers.

He told me afterward that one answer caught his attention.

Daughter: “What sexual orientation do you identify as, Mother?”

Old Lady: “Er… What are the options?”

Daughter: “You’re heterosexual, aren’t you?”

Old Lady: *Indignant* “No, I am not! I like MEN!”

Email Fail: The Golden Years

, , , | Right | October 19, 2021

One of my jobs is taking in email addresses sent in by the clients of a pension fund. Obviously, not every client has an email address. Some people, after all, don’t own a computer, especially some of the elderly. These are some of the replies about this.

Client #1: “I cannot afford an email address on my pension!”

Client #2: “Are you mad? You really think I want a computer? There is so much hacking! Computers can’t be trusted!”

Client #3: “I don’t own a computer! I’m over seventy! Show some respect to elder people!”

I’d say that it would be far more disrespectful to automatically assume that all people over seventy do not own a computer, but who am I to judge?

Related:
Email Fail, Part 34
Email Fail, Part 33
Email Fail, Part 32
Email Fail, Part 31
Email Fail, Part 30

Those Gosh Darn Old People With Their Assumptions

, , , , | Right | October 8, 2021

I help run an indoor market stall as an extension of a family friend’s gift and jewelry shop. I’m only fourteen years old — paid under the table — and my only coworker is my boss’s twelve-year-old daughter.

I’m serving an elderly lady, helping her pick out an ornamental plaque with funny sayings on it, as she wants a gift for her friend.

Me: “This one makes me laugh!”

The elderly lady reads it and laughs, too, picking it up as her first “maybe” choice.

Elderly Lady’s Husband: *Sneering at me* “That’s not the only thing making you laugh, is it?”

Me: “Uh… Pardon?”

Elderly Lady’s Husband: “It’s all those drugs you’ve been taking!”

Me: “What?”

Elderly Lady’s Husband: “Don’t try and deny it. I know you’ve been smoking something!”

Me: “Sir, I’ve never smoked so much as a cigarette in my life.”

The elderly lady’s husband calls me a liar and rants about the youth of today being useless drug addicts.

Elderly Lady: *To him “Bugger off if you’re going to be an a**.” *To me* “I’m so sorry, dear. He turned into a curmudgeon about twenty years ago, and he wears that badge like it’s an honor.”

It was one of the most bewildering things that happened to me at that job. Thanks to NAR, I now see that it’s not just me getting random cranky customers!

War Will Leave You Cold

, , , | Related | August 4, 2021

My grandmother, having been through two wars, was unbelievably thrifty and would not throw away anything until it was so worn that it couldn’t be mended any further. And, of course, nothing new could be put into use as long as the old stuff had some mileage still in it.

I always suffered from cold feet. I have some woollen “bedshoes” that belonged to my mother, crocheted in a honeycomb style that leaves most of my skin exposed and does nothing for the cold.

An elderly aunt, staying with us for a while, knits me a magnificent pair of bedshoes: fully enclosed, ankle-high, thick, and warm. I profusely thank my aunt and start wearing her bedshoes.

A few days later, after my aunt is back with her family, I’m asleep in bed. I wake up with a start, in pitch darkness. My covers are lifted and there’s someone in the room, hovering above me. Bogeyman? Wild bear? Kidnapper? No, it’s my grandmother, replacing my bedshoes with the old ones at two in the morning and scaring me to death in the process!

She tells me to shut up (which I do — she’s already positioned to slap the bejeezus out of me if I don’t comply), takes away the warm bedshoes, and goes back to sleep.

The following weeks are an endless game of hide and seek with the bedshoes between the two of us until, at last, summer comes. Being a small child, I eventually forget about the bedshoes until years later, after my grandmother is long dead and we find them in their last hiding place, too small for my feet by now, and completely disintegrated. It’s a small relief to know that at least the moths enjoyed the bedshoes undisturbed.

Some Customers Like To Stir Things Up

, , , | Right | August 2, 2021

I work the front counter at a very popular fast food chain. An old man comes up to the counter, looking a little upset.

Me: “Hello, sir, welcome to [Chain]! How can I help you?”

Customer: “I just came here a few minutes ago and got coffee from that lady over there, and she never gave me a stir stick or a napkin.”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, sir, but we don’t hand out stir sticks or napkins for coffee orders. You can pick one up at our counter over there—” *points* “—or just ask next time.”

Customer: “Well, I’d prefer it if you’d just give them to me when I get my coffee!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll make sure to give you one next time you come in.”

Customer: “There probably won’t be a next time. I’m over ninety, and I could die next week!”