(I work in a gift shop. The shop is closed for the Christmas holidays and we are using the absence of customers to do a serious stock take. We sell a lot of small items such as marbles and pencils, and as such we have to count hundreds of them and it’s all done by hand. It takes a lot of concentration and it’s extremely easy to lose count and have to start all over again. To make things more difficult, the only way for the admin workers to access their office area is to walk through our gift shop where we are counting. Our manager makes a request at the staff meeting that the office workers stay quiet as they walk through and not to disturb us while we are counting. It doesn’t work.)

Office Worker #1: “Oooh, is this the counting that I’m not meant to be disturbing?”

Office Worker #2: “Dear me, that looks boring.”

Office Worker #3: “What number are you up to now then?”

Office Worker #4: “How was your Christmas break?”

Office Worker #5: “Why are you ignoring me? I’m trying to talk to you. That’s a bit rude.”

Finance Staff: *standing in the middle of the shop having a loud conversation about money and numbers, distracting us from the numbers we were meant to be thinking about*

(I wish I could say this was a one-off, but this happened multiple times throughout the day, even after being reminded to stay quiet several more times by the shop managers. We all lost count every single time.)

(My parents have hosted Christmas Eve for both sides of the family as long as I can remember. Gatherings in my family are informal; a few people sit at tables for comfort or practicality, but many of us occupy couches or the floor around coffee tables. When I was growing up we lived in a large house, but my parents downsized about seven years ago. This year, for the first time since they moved, basically everyone is coming. Nobody is with in-laws, and some of the old “kids table” group have their own children now, so the total expected head count is larger than it’s ever been at their current place. Four generations will be represented. My mom can be rather uptight and is more of the planner than my dad, so I text her and ask if she wants me to bring an extra dessert, knowing we’ll have so many people. A few moments later my phone rings.)

Me: “Hi, Mom!”

Mom: “YOU AND [BOYFRIEND] CAN EAT IN OUR BED OR SITTING ON THE TOILET!”

Me: “Um… What?”

Mom: “THERE’S GOING TO BE AT LEAST THIRTY-FOUR PEOPLE, MAYBE MORE! I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I’M GOING TO PUT EVERYONE!”

Me: *laughing* “It’ll be fine! It’s always fine.”

(I can hear my dad yell to her from the background, “Nobody will care! There’s never enough chairs, anyway!”)

Mom: “WE’LL NEVER FIT!”

Me: “So, should I bring the bundt cake?”

Mom: “Yes, please! You can eat it in the bathroom, too!”

(My dad is a bit of an odd duck. When going through the Christmas present my parents have sent for my boyfriend and me, I pull two small rectangular boxes out of a package, each with one of our names on them.)

Me: “Oh, I almost missed these; they’re so small. Wow, they’re pretty heavy, too… Wait…”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “They’re small, heavy, there’s one for each us, and they’re from my dad.”

Boyfriend: “Knives?”

Me: “Knives.”

(They were, indeed, two very nice pocket knives. I still know my dad’s tastes.)

(It’s the new year, and Mum is putting away the Christmas decorations. One of the things she got for Christmas was a large Santa gnome decoration, which my brother and his girlfriend insisted be named. Note: My mum grew up, and is to date, religious.)

Mum: “[My Name], what did we name the Santa?”

Me: “I don’t know; it had like three complicated names. Why don’t you just rename it?”

Mum: “Okay, then his name will be Joseph!”

Me: “Joseph?”

Mum: “Yeah, after the Polish guy who gave my dad a bottle of alcohol every Christmas, which always irritated my mum.”

Me: “Ah, so not Joseph Joseph.”

Mum: “No, that would be weird.”

(This was about ten years ago on New Year’s Day. It is my then-boyfriend’s birthday and I am out with his family for dinner at a well-known Chicago-style pizza place. We have ordered three pizzas and are talking while waiting for our food, when our waitress comes walking towards our table with a tray of food. The waitress trips and drops the whole tray of food on the table next to ours.)

Waitress: “F***.” *leaves the food and tray where it is and storms out*

Boyfriend’s Mom: “Was that our food?”

Me: “Do you think she’s coming back?”

(After a few minutes, another man comes out.)

Manager #1: “Hi, folks, I’m sorry to tell you that was your food. I’m the manager; your waitress has walked out. If you would tell me what you ordered, I’ll re-order it for you. It’ll be on us.”

(We reorder all our food and a few salads in the meantime. We are waiting and talking for about five minutes when another employee comes up to us.)

Manager #2: “Good evening, folks. I’m so sorry about this. I’m the assistant manager. What was your order? I’ll go check on it.”

(We repeat everything we had just told the first manager, including the two salads that we’d recently ordered. We continue to talk for another ten minutes when a new waiter comes out with four salads.)

New Waiter: “Hello, I will be your waiter. Here are your salads. What pizzas did you order?”

Boyfriend’s Dad: “We only ordered two salads.” *he then repeats our pizza order*

New Waiter: “Oh, keep the salads. I will check on your pizza.”

(About twenty minutes later, NINE pizzas came out. They told us to keep them, and it was all on the house!)

This story is part of the New Year’s Day roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

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