Your Disability Doesn’t Have A Leg To Stand On

, , , , , | Right | October 30, 2018

(I work as an advisor at a bank. It is Halloween and we are all dressing up. Due to an accident as a child, I had to have my right leg removed just below the knee. I use this to my full advantage and usually dress up as a pirate, with an actual peg leg instead of my usual prosthetic. I am waiting for my two pm appointment when I hear a lot of shouting outside my office. I hobble to the door and open it.)


(She turns to me and looks at my peg leg. She stares at it in horror before running out of the building.)

Me: “Wow, I wish I could run that fast… What’s going on?”

Manager: *who is dressed as one of the Village People* “Your two o’clock.”

Me: “What’s the problem?”

Manager: “She said she had a disability and demanded a wheelchair.”

Me: “We don’t have wheelchairs.”

Manager: “That’s what I told her, and offered her a seat, instead. She took offence to it and started shouting. Then you came out and—” *looks at my leg* “—scared her away.”

(She made another appointment a week later and came in in a wheelchair, with smugness the likes of which I had never seen before. She couldn’t navigate herself into my office, despite it being wheelchair-friendly, and in frustration she stood up, picked the chair up, and threw it across the room, cracking several of the floor tiles. She refused to pay for the repair work because again, we refused to accept her disability, before running out of the building again. She finally did pay, but made one final appointment to close her accounts. Her reason: for the third time, we refused accept her disability. We still don’t know what her disability was meant to be, but after all of this we suspect it may have been mental.)

Some Adults Make It Public For A Living

, , , , , | Related | October 30, 2018

(I’ve always been a good reader, and I love reading and learning about new things. As such, when the time comes to learn about the birds and the bees, my mum gets me a book on the topic and tells me to ask her if I have any questions at all. I also like to know the reason behind everything, particularly the reason things are called particular names.)

Me: “Mum, I’ve just started this chapter about the new hair I’m going to get.”

Mum: “Yes, it might seem strange, but it’s totally normal.”

Me: “Okay. I’ve only read the first page, but I was wondering… Is it called ‘public hair’ because everyone can see it, like Dad’s beard?”

Mum: *laughing* “Um, I think you’ve misread a word there. Have another look.”

Me: “Oh, what does ‘pubic’ mean?”

Car Accidents Are A Numbers Game

, , , , , | Working | October 29, 2018

(Overheard as I am getting my ID:)

Lady: “ABC03F–“

Worker: “The eye test doesn’t have any numbers.”

Lady: “Oh, okay. ABC03–“

Worker: “No numbers, just letters.”

Lady: “Oh, okay. ABCD3F–“

Worker: “Letters only.”

Lady: *tries a few more times but fails*

Worker: “I’m sorry, but I have to deny your license renewal until you can talk to your eye doctor. If he clears you, you can drive. Just have him sign this form for me.”

Lady: *leaves*

Worker: *to fellow worker* “I tried to give her a chance. I really wanted her to pass it…”

(Now I know why there are so many accidents around here!)

The Icee Of Water

, , , , , | Right | October 29, 2018

(I work third shift at a gas station where I live. One night I’m at work and there are only two customers in the store: a young woman and her friend. I happen to overhear this beautiful conversation.)

Friend: “So what are you getting to drink?”

Woman: “I don’t know… I’ve been trying to stay away from soda because it’s not really good for you. I was thinking an Icee because it has ice and ice is water and water is good for you, you know?”

Friend: “Riiiight…”

(I kid you not. This conversation happened, and I was a witness. It took every bit of my self control not to laugh or sigh and shake my head. They were nice, though.)

When Sleeping On The Job Means Not Sleeping On The Job

, , , , , | Romantic | October 29, 2018

(I suffer from a fatigue disorder which has only within a couple of years begun to be managed by medication. I hate napping, because if I nap for more than an hour, I can’t sleep at all the next night, and napping for less than an hour gives me a migraine. Thankfully I haven’t gotten tired enough to nap since starting the medication. It is also important to note that my wife usually has to push to get me to leave the house for work and school, as I am a massive shut-in.)

Me: “I’m not feeling well.”

Wife: “That’s okay. We have nowhere to go. Just take it easy.”

(A couple of hours later, I end up taking a nap for four hours.)

Me: “I hate to say it, but I don’t think I can go to college tomorrow.”

Wife: *uncharacteristically agreeable for this subject* “Okay, hun, go ahead and take the day off.”

Me: “What? No argument about my obligations?”

Wife: “If you’re sick enough to decide to take a nap, and you sleep through the night tonight, I’ll be able to tell you’re actually sick as opposed to having anxiety issues. It’s pretty simple.”

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