Massaging The Wait Time

, , , | Friendly | October 11, 2019

(I’m a non-confrontational person; when I witness any incident, I tend to shy away and pretend not to look at it by switching my view to my phone. Today my body is so tensed up and I really can’t wait to get a massage treatment. I enter the spa and there’s a line to the counter. There’s only one line for BOTH registration and payment. As I am reaching the counter, the couple in front of me starts arguing with the cashier regarding the payment. Normally, I’d just keep silent and wait while playing a game on my phone no matter how long it takes. However, my body is aching and I’m so upset that I have to wait longer when it is almost my turn. So, I say in a louder than normal voice.)

Me: “UGH! THIS TAKES TOO LONG!”

(The wife turns to me and I instantly think:)

Me: *thinking* “Oh, my God! I just initiated a confrontation!”

(So, I immediately say:)

Me: “What? It’s my game! It takes too loooong to load this game on my phone!”

(Thankfully, she didn’t confront me or do anything, just turned back and swore something under her breath. But immediately afterward, the couple decided not to pursue the matter much longer and just left while the husband kept swearing. I was glad that, FINALLY, I could reach the counter, register my name on it, and get my massage. And it felt so wonderfully nice.)

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They’re Not Much Nicer By Seventeen, Either

, , , , | Right | February 13, 2019

(I work for a small but successful company that specialises in organizing sweet seventeens — the equivalent of sweet sixteens in the US. The owners of the company are a young married couple, and they routinely perform in the parties as magician and host. On this day I am accompanying them in a meeting with a client, who is a girl about to have her “extra special” sweet seventeen party. No, the parents are not there. They gave her a blank check to organise her own party.)

Girl: *sitting there with her arms crossed* “So, what games will we have at my party?”

Female Owner: “Well, we can have a dancing competition where—“

Girl: *cuts off my boss mid-sentence, rolling her eyes, sighing, and waving a hand* “Next!”

Male Owner: “A cake eating competition is really popular these days, and—“

Girl: *rolls her eyes and waves a hand again* “Ew! My guests? Their clothes are expensive. I’m sure you’re not paying for dry-cleaning if cake gets on them.”

(My eyes go wide at the girl’s rudeness, but my bosses have had a previous meeting with her and are familiar with her attitude. They keep quiet and continue in this manner for a while, until they start discussing having a magic show at the party.)

Girl: *looks my male boss up and down* “You’re the magician? Don’t you have someone else?”

Male Owner: “I’m the only magician we have. Don’t worry; I’ve been performing in parties since I was younger than you are.”

Girl: “You’re going to wear a suit, right? Can you fit in a suit? You’re kind of fat.”

Male Owner: *fake laugh* “I can fit in a suit. I wore one to our wedding.” *gestures to his wife*

Girl: *looks at both of them, snorts* “You married him? Why?!”

(After that, my bosses sent me out of the room because they could see my face was red from anger. I didn’t come back until the meeting was over, but I was told that the girl continued making snide comments about how my female boss made a huge mistake marrying her husband.)

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Resembling Your Way Of Thinking

, , , , | Right | January 12, 2019

I’m a medical resident. One of my consultants in the hospital, [Consultant #1], resembles me a lot in looks to the point that people keep asking me whether I’m related to her, which I am not. It comes to the point where I joke to my friends that whenever I don’t feel like making presentations and whatnot I could ask [Consultant #1] to replace me and no one would know the difference. It’s also worth noting that we residents have morning lectures every day, and during such lectures, consultants take turns acting as the coordinators every week, and if they’re not available, another consultant will replace them.

One day, the coordinator of the week, [Consultant #2], wasn’t there by the time the morning lectures usually start, and she didn’t answer any calls. My friend then went to find a replacement and met [Consultant #1], who was about to enter the conference room. They asked her whether she could become the coordinator that day.

According to my friend, upon hearing that she would have to act as the coordinator, [Consultant #1] immediately fled, saying, “No, no, just consider me [My Name]!”

I laughed my head off at that, and was glad to know that apparently [Consultant #1] had the same thought as me regarding our resemblances!

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You Know You Have A Drinking Problem When Even The Olive Oil Looks Good

, , , | Right | November 25, 2018

(I work in a hotel in Bali, at one of its restaurants. I am assigned to be the host during breakfast time. It’s near closing time, and as always, there are a few Indian people that come in late. I am about to have my break when I have to handle this one particular guest. With guests that don’t speak English, I tend to use simpler — though grammatically faulty — English.)

Guest: *speaks in an Indian language, asking for a drink*

Me: “I’m sorry? Drink?”

Guest: *repeats what he said, making a grand gesture that looks like he’s chugging down a beverage*

(Hot milk comes with the breakfast package, but the guests have to request it.)

Me: “Milk?”

Guest: “Yes!”

Me: “Okay, white or chocolate?”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: *pauses* “Sorry, white or chocolate?”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: “WHITE?!”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: “Okay, hot or cold?”

Guest: “Um, YES!”

Me: *speaks slowly* “Hot. Or. Cold?”

Guest: “YES!”

Me: “Hot plain milk it is, then.”

(I am more amused than anything. A little bit later, I see him by the salad bar pointing at a bottle.)

Guest: *says the word “drink” in his language again*

Me: “Sir, with all due respect, you can’t drink olive oil!”

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Now Interviewing For A New Interviewer

, , , , , , | Working | November 20, 2018

(I have been trying to get a job for over a month, with over sixty job applications, several interviews, and no luck. Today, I have a scheduled interview with a manufacturing company for a data-entry job. I enter the interview room after I am called.)

Interviewer: “Mr. [My Name], yes?” *takes out my CV and starts reading it* “[My address], huh? What, daddy didn’t give you enough money?”

(I am livid. While we do live in a rich neighbourhood, my life is nowhere near what would be considered rich. The only reason we live there is that we bought the land when it was still cheap and a normal neighbourhood. My dad has been retired for over a year, as well, and I was barred from getting a job before I finished my first year of university. I snatch my CV from the jerk’s hand and go home. When I get home and check my phone, there are eight missed calls from the same company. Then another call comes in. I pick it up.)

Man: “Is this Mr. [My Name]?”

Me: “What do you want?”

Man: “I’m [Man], sir, and I’d like to apologize for what my ex-colleague has done. His behaviour was completely unacceptable. I can assure you he has been dealt with. Would you like to reschedule another interview?”

(I end up declining as the traffic in that area was rather rough, but I was glad that the jerk didn’t get away scot-free.)


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