Pearls Of Irony

, , , , | Right | September 12, 2018

(I get a phone call from out of state, which happens more often than it should. I happen to answer it.)

Me: “Moshi-Moshi?”

(Because I don’t recognize the number, I have a little fun with it. It’s the polite Japanese greeting over the telephone.)

Caller: *pause* “Is this [Person]?”

Me: “Nope, sorry. You’ve called Hawaii.”

Caller: “Oh. Was that Japanese?”

Me: “Yep.”

Caller: “Isn’t that kind of ironic?”

Me: “What is?”

Caller: “That you’re Japanese and you live in Hawaii.”

Me: “I don’t know what you mean.”

Caller: “Well, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, right? Isn’t that ironic?”

(I was stunned and slightly offended, and decided to hang up.)

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Not Much Scarier Than Flagrant Misogyny

, , , , , | Related | July 20, 2018

My cousin and his wife have been ribbing me ever since I gave their daughter nightmares by showing her a certain Robin Williams movie about a magic board game.

Tonight at dinner, their daughter starts talking about waking up scared again and, fearing the worst, I ask why. She points to her father and says, “We watched Ghostbusters.”

Cue my cousin’s wife glaring at him, while he indignantly tries to claim that the movie wasn’t scary because it was “stupid” and “starred four women.” I don’t know about the movie, but the look in her eye was frightening enough!

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Will You Please Just Pokémon-Go Away?

, , , , | Friendly | July 9, 2018

(My mom and I are on a bus together on a mutual day off. I went into the city to play Pokémon Go, while she needed to run errands and asked me to keep her company first. The errands run way longer than expected, and she apologizes and lets me pick where we go for what’s left of the day. I’m playing while talking to her, and she’s even looking at my game and commenting about it the moment a middle-aged man moves from his seat to sit across from us.)

Man: *to me* “Now, ma’am, I have to say something. You see this person sitting next to you? They are your best friend.”

Me: *giving him a dead-eyed stare* “That’s my mom.”

Man: “They are your best friend. And you’re on your phone, talking to your Internet friends. Now, you see, you can have your Internet friends…or you can have your best friend. You can’t have both of them.”

(I raise a perfect Spock Eyebrow and keep staring at him. He is looking at me for reaction, and looks like he might even keep going until he sees the look my mom, who doesn’t suffer lightly idiots, mansplainers, or weird men approaching her daughter, is giving to him. The guy silently decides to move back to his original seat with the air of someone who has imparted great wisdom.)

Me: “Soooo, I guess we can’t be Facebook friends anymore?”

Mom: *rolls her eyes and shakes her head* “Go catch another coconut tree-thing.”

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Branding Is Everything (Priced The Same)

, , , | Right | May 30, 2018

(I work for a large, well-known department store. One day a middle-aged woman came up to me, frowning, with two blouses in her hand.)

Customer: “Why are these different prices?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “These tops! Why is this one more expensive than the other one?”

Me: *looks down at the two blouses that are nothing alike* “Well, ma’am, these are different items.”

Customer: “But they’re the same brand! They should be priced the same.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, these are both from [Brand], but they are still different items. The price for each item is going to be—”

Customer: *cuts me off* “Oh! This one is from the petite section! I see. It must be cheaper because there’s less fabric.”

(She wandered off, satisfied with her logic, while I stared after her.)

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We Have A Petite Problem Here

, , , , | Right | May 29, 2018

(I work at a large, well-known department store. A middle-aged woman has been stubbornly ignoring me every time I politely tell her that the plus sizes she wants are upstairs in the women’s department, and has continued uselessly shopping in the misses department, getting more and more frustrated.)

Customer: *brandishing a blouse at me* “Where are the larger sizes for this?”

Me: “That’s an XL, ma’am, which is the largest size we have in misses. We do have that brand upstairs in women’s, so we might have that same blouse or something similar. Would you like me to check for you?”

Customer: *scowls and walks away*

(A few minutes pass, and she comes back waving around another blouse, still looking angry.)

Customer: “Why don’t your clothes come in larger sizes?! I need this in a bigger size!”

Me: “Ma’am, the misses department goes from XS to XL, and 2 to 18. The larger sizes are all upstairs in the women’s department. We have a lot of the same brands up there, so I’m sure we can find you something you like.”

(The customer harrumphs and leaves again. For some inexplicable reason, she starts shopping in the petites department. After a while, she storms up to me again, clothes draped over her arms.)

Customer: “Why are all your clothes so small?! I need these in a bigger size!”

Me: “Ma’am, this is the petites department, so the clothes are going to be smaller. The larger sizes are all upstairs in the women’s department.”

Customer: *scoffs dramatically and dumps the clothes on the floor* “FINE! I’ll just go find something to wear in juniors.”

(She charged off towards the teenager section, leaving me with a pile of clothes and a dropped-open jaw.)

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