I Live At One America Street, America

, , , , , | Right | March 11, 2019

(I’m at the check-in desk at an airport in Israel.)

Customer: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “There is only one airport in the USA, right?”

Me: “Only one airport… in the entire USA?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “Please listen to yourself. Are you serious?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Yes, only one airport. Thank you!”

Me: *face-palm*

No, But There Is One In New York

, , , , | Right | February 26, 2019

(Our hotel has free unlimited international calls, but once a guest has called someone through the phone in their room, the number that is displayed on the receiving end is the hotel’s own number. Thus, it happens sometimes that people call our hotel after they have missed the initial call. One day, a man calls our hotel. I can tell that he is calling from a different country.)

Me: “[Hotel]; how may I help you?”

Caller: “Did you call me?”

Me: “Oh, no, sir. If one of our guests in the hotel calls you, you’ll see our number. Do you know of any friends or family that are visiting Jerusalem right now?”

Caller: “Jerusalem? No… Is that in Canada?”

Stuck In A Bloody Cycle

, , , , , | Healthy | February 13, 2019

About twelve years ago I was riding my motorcycle when I got hit by a driver that didn’t look to see whether the road was clear while exiting her driveway. The impact and subsequent fall wrecked the bike pretty badly; the lights and the mirrors were shattered, the rear brake drum had cracked, the clutch got stuck on partially-disengaged, and the transmission got stuck on third. I was okay, aside from a nasty cut on my chin that got the front of my jacket covered in blood.

After checking myself for bodily injuries and concluding that I had sustained none aside from that cut, I exchanged the mandatory details with the woman that hit me, and told her I wanted to contact the police to have an accident report filled. The woman exclaimed that “she had no time for this,” and promptly drove off, leaving her front bumper, which had torn off in the collision, behind. I then found out that I had no battery remaining on my phone.

I just went to the police station to get that report, on that very bike which was somehow still driveable with all that damage. The officer I spoke to was horrified by the way I looked with all that blood, told me that the report could wait, and urged me to go to the ER to get myself examined. When he asked me whether I could get to the hospital myself, I absent-mindedly just nodded and pointed at the helmet I had in my hand. That seemed to satisfy him and I went on my way.

In retrospect, I don’t know what was worse: the fact that I rode a motorcycle in a condition that made it nowhere near legal to be ridden right up to the police station’s front door, or that the officer, who must have assumed that I was involved in a serious crash, was perfectly fine with me riding the motorcycle involved in that very same crash to the hospital.

Left To Giggle For A Punishing Amount Of Time

, , , | Learning | December 9, 2018

(I am in fifth or sixth grade. About nine out of every ten teachers at my elementary school are the same general mix of authoritarian, power-tripping, prone to yelling and handing out punishments for extremely minor infractions, and borderline neglectful of the kids in their charge. My friend and I, both of us students who never get in trouble, unexpectedly get called out by the teacher for something trivial during the lesson, possibly for something like saying a few words to each other without permission.)

Teacher: “Leave the classroom, you two, and stand outside by the door until I call you back in!”

(This is a frequent “punishment” for less serious misbehavior; it’s supposed to last five to ten minutes at the very most — any seriously disruptive conduct gets you sent to the principal. We do as she said, all while thinking how stupid of a punishment this is, since we now get to miss part of a lesson that bores us to tears AND stand around unsupervised in an empty hallway together while talking as much as we like. Ten minutes pass as we stand around chatting and laughing quietly. Then fifteen minutes. Then twenty minutes. The teacher never calls us back in. We slowly realize she must have forgotten about us. Another teacher passes by us in the hallway and notices us.)

Other Teacher: “What’s going on? Why are you two standing around here on your own?”

(My friend and I look at each other, briefly consider telling her that it looks like we were forgotten there, and immediately decide, “Nahhhh.”)

Us: *innocently* “We were ordered to wait out here by Ms. [Teacher] as punishment, Ms. [Other Teacher]!”

Other Teacher: “Oh, right. Well, carry on, then.” *leaves*

(We giggle to each other and go on talking and playing in the hallway. About twenty more minutes later the lesson ends, and our teacher opens the door to the classroom to let the other kids out. She sees us standing there and makes an incredibly surprised face.)

Teacher: “Oh. Um… What?”

Us: *very innocently* “We’ve been waiting out here for you to let us back in, just like you told us to, Ms. [Teacher]!”

Teacher: *clearly flustered* “Umm… Well! Right! Just go ahead and get in the room and get your things. And go on to your next class. And I hope you’ve learned not to disrupt the class anymore! Yeah…” *very awkward expression, plainly trying to cover for her mistake and hoping we don’t realize what happened*

(We pretended ignorance but started giggling at her expense as soon as her back was turned.)

Office-Based Frustration On The Rise, As Coworkers’ Attachment To Incompetence Leads To Inability To Open Attachments

, , , , | Working | November 12, 2018

Me: “I completed the first draft of the user manual. Please find it attached to this email for review. It can also be accessed on the local company server at the following link: [link].”

Coworker: *reply all, CCing all sixteen people on the thread* “I am out of the country and I cannot access the local server; please send it as an attachment.”

Me: *directly to coworker with no one else CCd* “Hi. It’s possible you missed it, but I attached the draft to the previous email because I knew you were out of the country. In any case, I’ve attached it to this email, as well.”

(Several days later:)

Me: “Hi, all. Thank you for your feedback! Please find attached the second draft of the manual, incorporating your comments. It can also be accessed on the local company server at the following link: [link]. If everyone approves this draft I will release the finalized document.”

Coworker: *reply ALL again* “I’m still out of the country; attach the draft to the email! I can’t download from the local server!”

Me: *directly to coworker* “Here you go.”

(Ever since then, I always bold the phrase, “Please find attached…” If he replies to another huge thread asking for an attachment that I already sent, I’m going to start writing it in ALL CAPS, maybe in red. I don’t want to embarrass the dude, but he’s doing a pretty good job of it without my help.)

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