Professor Has The Privilege Of A Foot In Her Mouth

, , , , , , | | Learning | June 30, 2019

(The professor is talking about Black History. She brings up the point that no matter how much a white racist might say “black people are privileged,” they would never willingly switch places with the black person. Somewhere under their lies, they know that black people have it worse. The professor says that she, a white person, would never want to switch places with a black person because she knows how bad racism is. She asks if we would do the switch. No one raises their hand. Then, the professor completely jumps tracks to talk about fatphobia and how awful it is. She asks us the same kind of question: would anyone willingly gain 100 pounds? 200? One stick-thin girl raises her hand.)

Professor: “Why, [Student]?”

Student: “Because I want the weight. And to eat.”

Professor: “[Student], anorexia is a serious thing. It’s downright awful. But we have to deal with it, too. In fact, more fat people have eating disorders than skinny people. And we are encouraged to keep these eating disorders; you get help. People fall over themselves trying to get you the mental help you need. A fat person–“

(The girl starts full-on sobbing, in the mental-breakdown kind of way.)

Student: *between sobs* “I don’t… have… and they… they won’t… My stomach won’t let me eat. My intestines won’t let me digest. And the doctors… They say the same thing as you! They look at me and decide I’m anorexic before they even know me! They just tell me to eat more. They won’t help me… They just send me to therapy… and call me crazy… and no one will run the tests I need… They think if I just eat more, I’ll be fixed… I wish I was fat… so at least I’d have more to lose before I died…”

(The professor stopped saying stupid s*** after that.)

Treating All The Staff Like Crap

, , , , , , | | Working | June 29, 2019

When I was still a teenager I worked for a country club. The job was very easy most nights, and the clientele was very polite. The only bad thing about it was our general manager. He was a very pompous man who would eat more than he worked and would get in screaming matches with all the staff. The chefs especially hated him because he was always trying to tell them how to do everything, even though he knew nothing about food. There was one night, above all others, that encapsulates him as a manager.

We were hosting a wedding, birthday party, golf tournament, and normal dining. We were very understaffed, and I happened to be sick, so we were all floundering. My supervisor put me on the hostess stand where I wouldn’t have to strain myself too much, but I still had quite a bit to do. At one point, my GM approached me and demanded I clean the bathrooms. I tend to get very confrontational when I’m sick and told him no. I would not be cleaning a bathroom and dealing with food. That was not part of my duties. I guess he wasn’t expecting that from a young girl and just scampered off.

I found out the next day what had happened. At some point, one of the women in the bridal party got drunk and tried to flush multiple tampons down our toilet. Our sewage is connected to the kitchen, and sewage water from the bathroom flooded the kitchen. My manager tried to get every person on staff to clean it, but they all had the same response as me. Instead of calling in a cleaner, a plumber, or closing down for the night, he told the dishwashers to just occasionally sweep the sewage water out the back door. He closed down both bathrooms with a full house, and we continued to serve food the entire night.

After all that, this man even had the gall to write up each person who had said no to him for “insubordination.” I quit not too long after. He is still the GM years later.

And Now She’s Immortalized Here At “Not Always Hopeless”

, , , , , | | Hopeless | June 28, 2019

I work in a call center with several other women, all of them at least 40 years older than me. They’re all incredibly sweet and we get along great. One of them has a lot of health problems and eventually has to carry an oxygen tank around, but it does nothing to dampen her hilarious and eccentric spirit.

One slow afternoon, this particular coworker hands me a Post-It with her signature scrawled on it and tells me that I’ll want to keep her autograph for when she’s famous one day. I laugh and tuck the note away, forgetting it soon after.

Eventually, I leave the company to move back to my hometown for a new job opportunity. A few months after moving, I come back to town for a visit and stop by my old call center. I’m talking to my former supervisor when I ask how the elderly coworker is doing.

She suddenly gets quite somber and tells me that the coworker passed of cancer a month or so ago. I’m devastated. While I wasn’t terribly close with her on a personal level, I’d worked with her for over a year and a half and truly enjoyed her company.

After my trip, I’m looking through some of my old things and I find the sticky note with my former coworker’s “autograph.” I have a small corkboard hanging on my wall, so I pin the signature up there alongside mementos from my old city. It makes me happy to know that she is no longer suffering and that I’ll always have a little something to remind me of her.

Russian To Conclusions

, , , , , , | | Related | June 28, 2019

(My grandma has just come out of surgery but is back on the ward and we have been allowed to visit. As soon as the doctor leaves the room, she comes out with this gem.)

Grandma: “I think that doctor is Russian! He must be a spy.”

Me: “Grandma… You’re Russian.”

It Was A Mis-Steak To Pander To Her

, , , | | Right | June 27, 2019

(I work at quite a fancy restaurant, and this evening, we have a giant party — 100 people — coming for a four-course walking dinner. Not too bad, although 40 of them have allergies, and it being a walking dinner makes it a lot harder to track all of them down and remember their allergies because everyone keeps moving around. Luckily, everything goes all right and no one is served something they aren’t supposed to eat, although it is pretty stressful. One lady, however, has a gigantic list of allergies and food preferences; she is vegan, lactose-intolerant, and gluten-intolerant, and she is allergic to glucose, nuts, all sorts of fruits and vegetables, prefers no salt, no carbs, etc. The list is insanely long. So far she’s been happy and our chef has managed to make a couple of amazing courses for her, if I say so myself. By the third course, however, she flags me down.)

Lady: “Excuse me! Can I talk to you for a second?”

Me: “Sure, what can I help you with?”

Lady: “I don’t like this at all. Can’t you just fetch me a steak with some fries or something?”

(So much for being vegan, low-carb, and the like…)