Thankfully, No One Smelled A Rat

, , , | Working | January 10, 2019

(I work in a post office. A registered parcel lays unclaimed in the office for a long time, and for some reason, it cannot be returned to the sender, so after the mandatory four weeks, the office staff sets about to destroy it. They open it and find it is full of sweets — marzipan, chocolate, torrone, etc. So, for the next few days, they help themselves to the sweets whenever the mood takes them. Bear in mind that the office is on the ground floor of a rather old building. One day the parcel’s recipient shows up to claim her parcel. Frantically, they tape it together again, claim it fell apart in transit, give it to the recipient, and pat themselves on the back for having averted a well-deserved complaint.)

Coworker: “The weight wasn’t even that much off; I put the parcel on the scale before giving it away and it was nearly the same weight as stated on the label!”

(An hour passed, and everyone had forgotten about the incident when the recipient stormed into the office again. She had opened the parcel at her house and a huge, angry rat had jumped out and attacked her! Postal workers weren’t the only ones helping themselves to the freebies. Luckily, the inspectors assumed that the rat had torn open and entered the parcel all by itself, and the office was eventually moved to a newer building.)

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On Strike Against Stupidity

, , | Right | January 5, 2019

(Until recently, cashiers would count their till as soon as they had a quiet moment, but as per a recent policy, we now must do so whenever prompted by a phone call from the general management. I’m at my till scanning a customer’s groceries while several more are in line. I receive the phone call saying I have to count my till, so I warn the next customers.)

Me: “Gentlemen, just so you know, after I’ve finished checking out this lady’s groceries, I’ll have to stop to count my till. This is just going to take a couple of minutes.”

(The customers mutter their approval. The first in line, however, seems puzzled.)

Customer: “Is this some sort of strike?”

Me: *loses it*

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What A Bloody Jerk

, , , , | Right | January 3, 2019

(The blood test department in this hospital has a queue management system, not unlike those in a deli: you take a ticket at the desk, and enter the room when your number comes up on the monitor. In the room there are six or seven nurses each with their own button, so the number on the monitor can “jump” pretty quickly. The monitor is currently showing 33. I have ticket number 34 and I’m in front of the door. The monitor shows 34, then 35 in quick succession. I enter the room looking for a free nurse when someone grabs me by the arm and shoves me aside. I recognize the old man who was in the queue behind me.)

Man: *angrily* “Why did you enter? What are you playing at? I have 35; it’s my turn!”

Me: “‘Yeah? It called two numbers at once. I was right before you the whole time and here is my ticket: number 34.”

Man: “Well, it’s showing 35 and it’s my turn!”

Me: *getting angry* “Can’t you see 34 comes before 35, you old—“

Head Nurse: “PIPE DOWN AND GET A CHAIR BEFORE I DECIDE THAT I NEED A LITER OF BLOOD FROM EACH ONE OF YOU!”

(The man muted immediately. I sat at the first available station and didn’t even dare to mutter, “Good morning,” to the nurse!)

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Do The Right Thing, Or You’re Likely To Go Bananas

, , , , , | Hopeless | November 16, 2018

Around ten years ago I went to my old school to collect my degree. To say that I was happy to finally hold that piece of paper in my hands would probably be an understatement.

As I was walking back to my car, I noticed a very old, tiny lady carrying five big shopping bags, all filled to the brim with groceries. After every two or three steps she had to take a break, put the bags down, breathe and then collect the bags to make the next few steps. I couldn’t let her suffer like this.

I went over and asked if she needed help, and she gladly accepted. I am by no means weak, but these bags were heavy! She told me that usually her nephew came with her and helped her, but he was sick that day and she really needed those groceries.

Thankfully, her apartment was not far away. Unfortunately, she lived on the third floor with no elevator. When we finally reached her apartment, I put down the groceries on her kitchen table and she started thanking me, while I told her it was fine. She then started looking around for something she could give me, while I tried to make my way out, just repeating that it was fine. When I managed to get halfway out the door, she called out to me, “But Miss, at least take one of the bananas!” I didn’t, but it made my day and I’m still chuckling thinking about it.

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This Trip Is The Bomb!

, , , , | Learning | September 29, 2018

(I am in college studying geology in my second year. I’m involved a trip to Italy to see the famous volcanoes Vesuvius and Etna, and to study the volcanism both on the mountains themselves and in the nearby areas. Etna is experiencing mild activity when we visit which prevents us from climbing the last 500 metres to the crater itself; however, whilst roaming the upper slopes, one of our group comes across a large, hardened slab of lava that was ejected during a previous eruption. For better or worse, such projectiles are known as volcanic bombs. Both of our teachers think this particular bomb is a great find and decide it has to come back to England with us; however, it weighs quite a bit, and the teachers don’t have the luggage weight left to carry it, so one of the students who travelled light volunteers himself to get it home. Fast forward three days. We’re leaving Italy via plane, and just as we walk into the airport one of the teachers looks around and says:)

Teacher: “Who’s got the bomb?”

Everyone Else: “DON’T SAY THAT!”

(In spite of three further mentions of the B-word, we somehow made it home without being arrested.)

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