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He’s Only Delaying Himself

, , , , | Right | October 21, 2017

Me: “What can I get for ya?”

Customer: “Marbs.”

Me: “What kind?”

Customer: “The kind you smoke.”

(We have 31 different kinds of Marlboro cigarettes in our store, if I remember correctly, and I’m new to the job.)

A Sign That Grandpa Is Home

, , , , , , | Related | October 9, 2017

My paternal grandfather was an odd man in many ways, but the one pertaining to this story was the fact that, when he was through with something, that was the end of the discussion in his mind. It was not unusual for him to have one of my aunts drive him forty-five minutes to our house for a visit, as he had no driver’s license, visit with us for less than fifteen minutes, then announce, “Okay, I’m ready to go home!”

He was also infamous for interrupting prayers over meals. If he thought a prayer had gone on long enough, he would shout, “Amen!” and start eating or serving himself. As is the case with a lot of older people, his behavior continued without comment.

When I was five years old, Grandpa passed away. I don’t remember this incident, but according to family legend, I was quiet and well-behaved throughout the entire funeral… until we got to the cemetery. Then, in the middle of the dedicatory prayer over the grave, I spoke up at the top of my five-year-old lungs:


At any other funeral, I’m sure the family would have been mortified. But since this was Grandpa, everyone burst into much-needed laughter and remarked, “Yup, she’s Grandpa’s girl.”

Panic In The Pantry

, , , , , | Related | October 3, 2017

My mom goes out of town for a weekend for a nursing conference, leaving me at home to watch the house, animals, and my younger brother. I’m fairly confident in my ability to handle things… until I lock myself in the pantry by accident.

At first I keep calm, figuring that someone will be home soon to rescue me. Then I remember that Mom’s not due home for over twenty-four hours, my brother is spending the entire day at a Cub Scout activity, and there’s no way for me to call a neighbor from inside the pantry. And to make things worse, we have two young puppies that aren’t completely house-trained and will probably wreck the house while I’m stuck in here waiting for rescue.

Long story short… By the time my brother finishes his Scout activity and is dropped off by the Pack leader, I’m out of the pantry, but there’s a fist-sized hole in the pantry door. Mom takes it pretty well when I call her to tell her what happened. At least, she takes it well after she quits laughing. We never do get around to fixing the hole.

Upon hearing my explanation for the hole, my brother’s only response is, “It’s the pantry; at least you wouldn’t have starved to death.” Thanks, kid.

POP Goes Your Mooching Plans

, , , , , | Right | October 2, 2017

(Our library has a soda machine in the lobby to generate extra revenue. It’s been popular with patrons, especially the after-school crowd. My coworker is at her desk in the children’s room when this exchange happens.)

Girl #1: “I don’t have enough money for the pop machine.”

Coworker: “Oh, gee, I’m sorry!”

Girl #1: “I’m just a quarter short.”

Coworker: “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”

Girl #1: “I sure would love a pop, but I just need one more quarter!”

Coworker: *realizing the girl’s trying to mooch a quarter* “Well, maybe tomorrow you can remember to bring enough change.”

Girl #1: “But I want a pop now!”

(Meanwhile the girl at the front desk was much more direct.)

Girl #2: “Can I have a dollar to get a [Soda]?”

Me: “We don’t give out money here. Sorry.”

Girl #2: *huffs and stomps off*

The Hat Is Key

, , , , , | Working | September 22, 2017

This story happened years ago when I worked at a small fast food franchise. I was responsible for opening the store on Saturday mornings, so Friday nights I needed to remember to pick up the key before going home. I also wore a hat most days when I worked, so I wouldn’t get hair in the food.

One Friday night, I was already in my pajamas and relaxing for the night, when I suddenly remembered I forgot to pick up the key. It was almost closing time, so I leaped into my car without bothering to change and drove full-speed to the store. By then it was closed, but there were still coworkers present to put away food and do final cleanup.

When my coworker saw me banging on the door — in my pajamas, hair a mess, and wearing a pair of gardening shoes that were the first thing I could find to throw on my feet — she opened the door and gave me a shocked look.

“I almost didn’t recognize you!” she told me. “You’re not wearing a hat!”