A Venomous Sibling Relationship

, , , , , , | Related | April 18, 2018

(A friend gets a call from his brother. After talking a little:)

Friend: “Oh, did you know that Mom got bit by a rattlesnake?”

Brother: “No, I didn’t! Is she all right?”

Friend: “Yeah, they kept her in the hospital overnight, but it was a dry bite, and she’s okay.”

(Dry bites are when the snake doesn’t inject any venom. They are surprisingly common, as the snake doesn’t want to waste the venom. [Brother] thinks about it a minute and then calls their sister.)

Brother: “Hey, sis, did you know Mom got bit by a rattlesnake?”

Sister: *screams* “NO, I DIDN’T! Is the snake okay?”

Sick Or Treating

, , , | Related | April 15, 2018

(It’s Halloween. I’m about eight years old. I’m wearing a costume my mother made me: a giant chocolate donut. All day long, I’ve been woozy, my face is red, and I am sluggish. Despite my protests, because I want to finish trick-or-treating, my mom takes me to the hospital, and I find out I caught pneumonia.)

Nurse: *upon seeing my unhappy face* “Aw, sweetie, not feeling well?”

Me: “I’m missing trick-or-treating!”

Nurse: “But don’t you want to get better?”

Me: “I want candy!”

Nurse: “Well, I have some Tootsie Rolls here.”

Me: “I want better candy!”

Nurse: *to my mother* “Well, at least we know what her priorities are!” *to me* “All right, how about some lollipops, instead? I love your costume! You’re a… What are you?”

Me: *frustrated* “I’m a donut! Obviously!”

(The majority of my memories are of me being upset I missed Halloween. I barely remember being sick.)

Plastic Makes Them Hotter Than The Peppers

, , , , , | Right | April 13, 2018

(I am a cashier at a grocery store. Very often customers will not bag their produce, and we have to handle each item of food.)

Me: “Hello. How are you today? I hope you found everything you need.”

Customer: “Paper.”

Me: “Okay, no problem; we have plenty of paper bags.”

(I begin scanning and weighing the produce items.)

Me: “Make sure you wash all of this really well, because I haven’t washed this equipment or my hands since my shift started.”

Customer: “Ugh! Don’t they let you wash your hands?”

Me: “No, not unless it is my break. I have to stay at my work station. I always suggest that people use the plastic bags in the produce area because I handle money, people’s store cards, raw packaged meat, trash on the floor, and whatever else comes my way.”

Customer: “Well, I hate plastic! It is evil!” *rants*

(As I come to the end of the items, I notice several fat, juicy jalapeño peppers. I grab a plastic bag and use it to fish the peppers out of the cart and place them on the scale.)

Customer: “I TOLD YOU I HATE PLASTIC! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Me: “I am allergic to jalapeños and will not be able to wash my hands until my break.”

Customer: “You should respect my wishes and not use plastic for my order!”

Me: “I understand, but for me, the plastic bag is a safety device, and for my protection, I have to use the plastic to handle the peppers.”

(Her eyes bulged, and she huffed and puffed her way over to the customer service desk to call me a bad employee to my superiors. Then, the plastic-hating customer stomped her way through the parking lot to her suburban land yacht. Since my manager refused to discipline me, she called our corporate HQ to describe how poorly I had treated her. Up and down, and round and round went the investigation of my lack of customer service. I got a finger shaken at me by corporate HQ and a “coaching” on how I could have ensured my personal safety without insulting the customer. They even used the incident as a talking point at ALL of the customer service training meetings EXCEPT the one I was registered to attend.)

Above And Beyond The Hotelier’s Call

, , , , , | Hopeless | April 10, 2018

When I was 14, my family and I took a vacation to a popular amusement park. The hotel we were staying at was not an official hotel affiliated with the park, but it was in the area.

On our third day of our vacation, I woke up very sick. We thought I either caught a stomach virus or had food poisoning. No one else in my family was sick, and we had day passes to one of the amusement parks that I wasn’t too thrilled about going to, so they used that pass that day.

Anyway, being 14, my parents decided it was okay for me to remain in the hotel room and sleep. My parents are the worrying type, so they told the front desk that I was sick and that they would really appreciate it if someone could just check on me once during the day. The lady at the front desk said no problem, took my mom’s pager number — this was before cellphones were really affordable — and asked if there was anything else I needed. My mom said some clean sheets would be good, and thanked her. She came back upstairs to let me know that someone would be coming by with sheets, and if I needed anything to call the front desk.

About two hours after my family left, there was a knock on the door. The woman had a name badge and a cart, so I opened the door. She had a huge basket on the cart with a balloon on it that said, “Get well soon!” The front desk had sent up a basket with numerous stuffed animals, crackers, ginger ale, and soup. I was so happy I started to cry. What was set to be the worst day of my vacation turned into one of the best days.

When my family came back, they were shocked. My brother — who was 21 — was actually jealous that he didn’t get anything. My mom went down to the front desk to thank them and to pay for the items. The front desk told her no, the basket was on the hotel, free of charge.

I don’t know if the hotel still does that for sick kids, but it certainly made my vacation absolutely awesome. Thank you, hotel!

Giving Birth To Inconsideration

, , , , , , , | Working | April 10, 2018

I was hired into my convenience store job pregnant, with management aware. Everything started out okay, but as time goes by and I near the end of my pregnancy, my feet become extremely swollen and painful to stand on continuously, usually reducing me to tears if I don’t get a chance to sit down. I also get winded easily and feel faint if I overwork myself. Simply sitting for a few minutes and drinking water fixes it. I can still perform my job duties, but my doctor wants me to have access to a chair or a stool while I ring out customers. He writes a note, I give it to my manager who has no problem offering me a chair, and everything seems okay. I should also mention I’m not a smoker, so I do not get any other breaks apart from my lunch, while smoking employees get a break about every half hour.

A few weeks later, I’m working the register and stock, and the district manager comes in. I have my chair next to me and occasionally stop between totes or customers to sit down and have a breather. A few minutes after she comes in, the assistant manager comes up to me and tells me I have to go home, because the district manager said I was a liability. Furious, I go to the back office and ask for a letter from her stating that she is sending me home and why. She says they need a doctor’s note stating I can still work, and until then, I’m not allowed. Then she tells me to call the disability office.

I leave in tears and immediately call human resources. A few days later, the regional manager tells the district manager that I am indeed allowed to work, and I return, with no more issues.

About a week before I am scheduled to go on maternity leave — I am 36 weeks — the district manager returns. At this point, I’m very pregnant, so much so that people ask if I’m having twins. I’m also having practice contractions and am generally uncomfortable, but I still work, as it’s relatively simple and I only have a few days left.

The district manager walks up to me while I’m straightening the front end and hands me a bucket of hot, soapy water and a rag. She tells me to get on my hands and knees and clean the bottoms and tops of all the displays, shelving, and vending machines. I have just dusted them the day prior, but I guess that wasn’t good enough.

I spend the next three hours scrubbing on the floor and on a broken step-ladder, while also ringing people out. It is hard work, and I am able to do it, but it was still pretty inconsiderate, especially considering there are three other employees there who aren’t about nine months pregnant and working the till.

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