Dyeing To Find Out The Policy

, , , | Learning | June 20, 2018

(It is a few weeks from the end of the school year. Some classmates and I are in a study class with students from a few years below, as both of our scheduled teachers are out sick. Everyone is quietly studying. I am normally very shy and quiet, but I really dislike the teacher overseeing us, as she is a bully. She suddenly turns on a younger student.)

Teacher: “[Student #1], detention!”

Student #1: “Huh? What? What did I do?”

Teacher: “Dyed hair is against the school uniform policy.” *the student has dyed her hair bright red*

Student #1: “Oh, I didn’t know. Can we not dye our hair?”

Teacher: “Did I stutter? I said it’s against the uniform policy”.

Student #1: “But it’s been this colour all year.”

Teacher: “That’s two detentions now, and more if you keep talking back to me!”

Me: “Excuse me, miss, but where in the policy does it say that dyed hair is against the rules? And what are the limitations of it? Because [Student #2] and [Student #3] both have dyed blonde hair, and [Student #4] has highlights.”

Teacher: “Do you want detention, as well?”

Me: “I guess I deserve it, because–” *pointing at head* “–my hair is the same colour as [Student #1]’s. I’ve never had detention for dying it, though.”

Teacher: “Urgh, fine!” *turning to [Student #1]* “Don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have detention, because all those disgusting piercings in your face are against the uniform policy.”

Me: *reading uniform policy* “Miss, is there an extended uniform policy somewhere? Because in our student handbook it just says, ‘Students must wear the uniform,’ and nothing else.”

Teacher: “[My Name], you are really trying my patience today.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be troublemaker but–” *pointing at face* “–I have more piercings than [Student #1], and I’ve never had detention for those, either. I’m not the only one with piercings, either. I don’t think it’s fair to discipline one student for something and not another. It almost seems you’re picking on [Student #1].”

Teacher: *shouting* “[My Name]! Principal’s office, NOW!”

(I went to the office and explained the situation to the principal. Our school is quite liberal, and they had purposely left the uniform policy vague so that we could still express ourselves. Apparently, [Student #1] was being bullied and made a complaint to the school. One of the bullies was the child of the teacher in question. The principal was very interested to hear how the teacher was acted and promised he would look after it. [Student #1] later thanked me for standing up for her. We ended up becoming good friends!)

Sometimes Life Sends You A Win – Literature-ly

, , , | Hopeless | June 13, 2018

Money was fairly tight when I graduated from college. I always had some food at home and never missed rent and bills, but other luxuries weren’t always a possibility. One particularly tight period I went to the local bookshop to see what kind of general-purpose traditional cookbooks they had for when I had some spare cash, since the charity shops didn’t have what I had in mind. Just as I got up the steps to the cooking section, a staff member asked if I wanted to join in a promotional event for their anniversary — so I ended up playing Pass The Parcel with several kids and their parents.

The game went as it usually does, until the music stopped when I was holding a fairly large parcel. I quickly passed it to the little girl beside me, who opened a really nice [Major Animation Company] storybook that I’d have loved at her age and she seemed delighted with.

The game kept going on, until the music stopped while I was holding a much smaller parcel with a lot less wiggle room to pass it on. I opened it to find a gift card! Someone up there liked me that day, since I got my cookbook and have made some big advancements in my cooking since — even sharing some of the recipes from it when people particularly liked them.

A Toast To School Life

, , , , , | Learning | June 13, 2018

I am in fourth-year in secondary (high) school. The sixth years — the 17- and 18-year-olds — in our school have their own small kitchen in the school for cooking instant noodles during after-school study, making cups of tea, etc. It doesn’t have an oven or a cooker; there are only small appliances, such as a kettle, a microwave, and a toaster… or, at least, there used to be a toaster.

The story, from what I can recall, begins with us in class. It is a regular old maths lesson and I, as per usual, am daydreaming. All of a sudden, the fire alarm goes off, scaring the bejaysus — “bejesus” with an Irish accent — out of us. We immediately follow the drill of pushing our chairs in, lining up at the door, and filing out onto the sports pitch. I assume it’s just the usual stupidity: someone in the chemistry lab lighting a bunsen burner under the smoke alarm. In fact, this incident took it to a whole new level, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who caused it. One of the sixth years decided to cook a frozen pizza in the toaster. The pizza, of course, caught fire, and subsequently so did the toaster. After having evacuated the entire school and lost roughly 45 minutes of valuable class time — near exam time, no less — it was decided that the sixth years’ toaster would be permanently confiscated.

The story doesn’t end there, however. Our year, the fifth/incoming sixth years, did some things for the sixth years to help them de-stress before their oncoming leaving cert exams, e.g. throwing them a surprise party. At the leavers’ ceremony this week, the head girl announced that, as a thank you, the sixth years had bought our year a toaster as a sort of house-warming — kitchen-warming? — gift, as well as a swing-tennis set. Luckily, I think we’ve all learned the moral of the story: don’t cook non-toastable things in a toaster.

Unfiltered Story #113841

| | Unfiltered | June 5, 2018

(I am 20, and have just moved to Ireland by myself. This is my first time in a local supermarket. I’m at the cash register.)

Cashier: *rapidly in a bored voice* Do-you-want-a-bike?
Me: *thinking I’d misheard* Sorry?
Cashier: *a bit more loudly* Do-you-want-a-bike?
Me: Uh… no, thank you. I just got one. It’s waiting outside. *awkward chuckle*
Cashier: Well, didn’t it occur to you to maybe bring it in with you?
Me: I… uh, no, it didn’t. I’ve never heard of such thing, to be honest.

(The cashier just looks at me oddly, and we finish the transaction. I realize I wasn’t given a bag, but I’m feeling completely baffled, and just want to leave. I grab my stuff as best as I can and scramble out of the store. Then it hits me. The cashier asked me if I needed a bag, not a bike! I burst into hysterical laughter. Next time I brought my own bag.)

Working Here Is The Bomb

, , , , , | | Working | May 22, 2018

(One day I discover that the door to the chemicals cabinet in the lab is unlocked. Assuming this is an oversight, I inform one of the chemists who I am friendly with.)

Me: “Hey, [Chemist], I just wanted to let you know the door to the cabinet in that room is unlocked.”

Chemist: “Oh, that’s always unlocked.”

Me: “Really? But everyone who has access to this building can just walk into that room. Isn’t there really dangerous stuff in there?”

Chemist: “Oh, yes. You could make TNT with the stuff we have here.”

Me: *looks shocked*

Chemist: “What you do is—” *starts telling me the recipe for TNT*

Me: “I don’t need to know! But seriously isn’t that dangerous? A lot of people have access to this building.”

Chemist: “Ah, but you see, the trick is to make it without blowing yourself up. Most likely they’d kill themselves.”

Me: “Ah, they should make plastique. It’s nitroglycerin, basically, but it’s a bit more stable. I learned to make it when I was a kid.”

Chemist: *looks shocked*

Me: “That’s a quote from Terminator. I don’t actually know how to make a bomb.”

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