For The Record, You’re Not The Favorite

, , , , | Related | October 13, 2017

(My mother always notices favouritism towards her younger sister by her mother. My grandmother gives my mum a record album as a gift. A couple of weeks later:)

Grandmother: “[Mum], where’s that record I gave you?”

Mum: “It’s in the record player; I can put it on if you want.”

Grandmother: “No, I want it back. Your sister just bought a record player and I want to give it to her.”

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That’s Your Opinion But No One Asked For It

, , , | Learning | October 12, 2017

That’s Your Opinion But No One Asked For It

 

Middle School, Canada

 

(I teach grade seven, which means I do get a lot of hormonal kids. The best is those that want to be seen as adults, so they pick little fights to showcase their independence. This is amplified by the end of the year with one female student.)

 

Me: “Okay, [Student], remember that survey we did? You had great answers; I just need you to add some missing details.”

 

Student: “Why do I have to add more? I’m done with this. You can’t make me change my opinion; it’s my opinion.”

 

Me: “I didn’t ask you to change your opinion; I’m just saying we need more examples with your work. See here: you wrote a great answer, but the survey asked for an example of how you showcased your answer in the course.”

 

Student: “But it’s my opinion; that’s what I wanted to write. Why do I have to change it?”

 

(The best incident is after a fun field trip for a high school event. One of the high school teachers gives the teachers a bunch of toys to give our kids. This happens when I’m about to give out the toys.)

Me: “Mrs. [Teacher] gave you guys some gifts, which was really nice of her.”

Student: “Ugh, I hate that teacher.”

Me: “I didn’t ask you how you felt about her. I was saying she gave us gifts. Let’s listen—”

Student: “Well, that’s my opinion. You can’t get mad at me for having an opinion.”

Me: “Again, did I say, ‘you need to change your opinion’? No. I said, ‘you need to listen,’ and I didn’t ask what your opinion was, either.”

Student: *yelling* “But it’s my opinion!”

Me: “Okay, you know what? Go to the office.”

Student: “What?”

Me: “You’re distracting others and the lesson with this. Go sit at the study carrel and come back when you’re ready to listen.”

Student: *goes and grabs the office pass in anger* “WHY ARE YOU ALLOWED TO TELL ME TO GO AWAY BUT I CAN’T TELL YOU TO GO AWAY!?”

(She eventually did calm down, but no one was ever trying to get her to change her opinion.)

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A Case Of System-atic Failure

, , , , , , | Right | October 12, 2017

(I’m more than halfway through a seven-hour shift, running on five hours of sleep, after a 17-hour day between school and work the previous day. I am supposed to have a cashier to run register, but the cashier hasn’t shown up for any of his shifts this week and we haven’t gotten a hold of him at all, so I am running the front end of the store myself for the entire time. This is right before a snowstorm, so we are unusually busy for a weekend morning. By the time this customer comes up, I am tired, frazzled from trying to help so many different customers at once, almost out of patience, and have more than fulfilled my daily requirement of idiocy. A lady walks up to my register and places a bag of [Store] brand candy and a package of [Popular Brand] Easter marshmallows.)

Customer: “Both of these items are on sale, two for three dollars. They should ring up that price. Make sure they ring up that price.”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t believe they will ring up like that; these are two different brands, so they are two different sales. They don’t—”

Customer: “I don’t care if they are two different brands! They should ring up two-for-three!”

Me: “Let me ring them up and see how they ring up, but I’m just letting you know that is not typically how the sales work.”

(I ring up the items and run the customer’s store card.)

Me: “It looks like they both ran up at $1.59 each, so it’s close to the two-for-three deal.”

Customer: *slams hands on counter* “They should be two-for-three! What kind of store doesn’t honor their sales?”

Me: “Ma’am, we do honor our sales; however, the sale tags do say that the single purchase price is more than if you buy two and—”

Customer: “I have two!”

Me: “Yes, but they are two different brands. I know it can be confusing, and we get this sometimes with makeup. Like if [Makeup Brand #1] and [Makeup Brand #2] are both on sale, buy one get one half off, and you bought an eyeshadow from both, would you expect to get one of them half off?”

Customer: *nods emphatically* “Yes!”

Me: “Okay. What if there is that same sale on hair dye and [brand] macaroni and cheese? Would you expect to get one of them half off?”

Customer: “Of course!”

(By this time there are about five people behind her that are starting to get impatient. After a couple more tries of explaining it to her…)

Me: “That, unfortunately, is not how the system works. Would you still like both of the products?”

Customer: *throws card at me* “Yes, fine, whatever. And don’t tell me how the system works! I’ve been in the system for fifty years! I know how the system works.”

Me: “Wow, you must have been a loyal customer from the start! The company has only recently celebrated our 50th anniversary! We appreciate your loyalty!” *slight sarcasm*

(She finally grabbed her bags and left, and I was able to greet the next customer. But not before hitting my head against the wall first.)

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The Bulb Isn’t The Only Dull Thing Around Here

, , , , , | Working | October 12, 2017

(I’m at a home improvement store looking for a replacement light bulb. I’ve checked online, where it lists the area the item will be in, but it lists it as an aisle higher than the highest aisle number that actually exists in the store. I’ve just managed to find an employee in the department to help me.)

Me: “Hi, I have this fluorescent bulb that I’m looking for a replacement for, but in a different color temperature. I can’t seem to find—”

([Worker #1] holds his hand out to stop me from talking, signing that he is deaf. I nod and bring out the previous bulb, which I’ve brought with me to recycle, and show it to him. The worker nods back at me, and begins to show me the way.)

Worker #2: *suddenly popping out of nowhere* “Oh, let me help you!”

Me: “But—” *being physically blocked by her while [Worker#1] rounds the corner*

Worker #2: “You need to write things down and show them to him, he’s deaf.”

Me: “Yes, I know, but he already knew what I needed.”

Worker #2: “Yes, but he’s deaf.”

Me: “I know…” *sighing* “Look, do you know where these fluorescent bulbs are?”

(I show her the bulb. She begins to take me to an area where I have already been searching for about 15 minutes.)

Me: “I’ve already been here, and to the next three aisles. It wasn’t here.”

Worker#2: *awkwardly* “This actually isn’t my department. It was his.”

([Worker#1], who had clearly been searching for me, spotted me and motioned for me to follow him again. I found the bulb in less than a minute, and in the new color temperature I wanted. I’m not sure why [Worker #2] intervened in the first place. This store doesn’t work on commission, and it was [Worker #1]’s department, and we didn’t have any apparent communication issues, even though he was deaf!)

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He Can Go Sleep In The Garage

, , , , , | Romantic | October 12, 2017

(Our two-car garage is a mess. My husband insists I have to help tidy it.)

Husband: “We’ll take sides; you do that side and I’ll do this side. Most of the things on your side are yours.”

(I get to work tidying my side. He’s constantly watching so I don’t throw out anything that might remotely be his. If he’s not doing that, he’s fiddling around with his tools, not actually doing any tidying. I get my side looking good, and even set up a table so I can do some crafting out there. It’s taken me half the day, and his side has barely been touched.)

Me: “Okay, I’m finished, just in time to cook dinner.”

(It takes about half an hour to cook the dinner, and when it’s ready, I call my husband in.)

Me: “Are you going to continue cleaning after you eat?”

Husband: “I’m completely finished; my side of the garage is clean.”

(I couldn’t believe that he’d taken just half an hour to do it, after doing almost nothing out there for almost four hours. I walked out to find that the mess and rubbish from his side had now been moved to my side. The next day, he showed his brother his tidy side of the garage and what my side looks like. His brother has often called me lazy in the past, and this is no exception. My husband now wonders why I have to take photos of everything I do.)

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