Let The Right One In

, , , , | Right | June 14, 2018

(I work at a cafe that opens early in the morning. We often get people hanging out outside the doors before we open, waiting to get their coffee before going to their jobs. The supervisor usually locks the door, so they can’t get in, as they always try to get in early even though it isn’t time for us to open yet. One morning, however, the supervisor must have forgotten to lock the door; as I’m setting out the pastries, I look up suddenly to see a customer off to the side in front of the register. I stare at him with wide eyes, shocked that he’s in there before we’re open, and he just smiles at me, a bit condescendingly.)

Customer: “It’s 6:30; you’re open.”

Me: “Is it really?”

(I’m skeptical because I know how long it takes me to put out the pastries in the morning and there was no way it is 6:30 already.)

Customer: “Yes, see?” *looks at his phone* “Oh, wait. You have ten minutes. That’s okay; I’ll wait.”

(And then the customer steps back near the windows to wait. I’m speechless at this point, so I just sort of make an agreeing noise and go back to putting out pastries, as I can’t think of a polite way to tell him to get the hell out until we’re supposed to open. Naturally, my supervisor decides to come out right then.)

Supervisor: “Sir, you can’t be in here.”

Customer: *points to me* “Oh, it’s fine; she let me in to wait.”

Supervisor: *looks at me and frowns* “Oh, you can’t do that. We’re not allowed to do that; don’t do it again.”

(I just sort of nod, pissed at this point that the customer is trying to pin this on me and that I might be in trouble now. Naturally, two other customers slip in, since they see the original customer, and now we have three people waiting in the shop and we’re not ready to open yet, but the supervisor isn’t telling them to get out so I stay silent and finish. We officially open a few minutes later and take care of them before sending them on their way.)

Me: “You know I didn’t let him in here, right?” *explains what happened*

Supervisor: *in disbelief* “Seriously, man, that’s messed up. That’s not your fault. though; I guess I forgot to lock the door. I’ll have to be more careful next time.”

(Thankfully, I didn’t get in trouble, as she understood, and we both had a laugh over it, and I have yet to see that particular customer in the morning again, thankfully. I guess some people just don’t know how to be patient.)

Common Decency Has Logged Out

, , , , , , | Working | June 14, 2018

(Our small company hires a new tech guy who is kind of a jerk. He really likes to lean hard into the “everyone but people who work in IT are helpless and have stupid problems” stereotype and takes it beyond harmless teasing, even when the issue you have is legitimate and out of your control. He also tends to be very arrogant and condescending. One day I’m trying to update something in our database and keep getting an error. It’s something I’ve done a million times before, as outlined by the steps left behind from our previous tech guy who moved away, and the system isn’t giving me any information that I can use to troubleshoot besides the error. I call up our tech guy and give him the error I’m seeing, plus the steps to reproduce it, and everything I’ve tried.)

Tech: “Huh, that shouldn’t be possible. You probably aren’t logged in.”

Me: “I am definitely logged in. I couldn’t see the dashboard if I wasn’t.”

Tech: “You need to be putting these things in the assets folder.” *drags the word “assets” out long, as if speaking to a dog*

Me: “I just told you, I did. You can see them in there for yourself. I know the error it gives me when it can’t find them, and that’s not the code it threw. Did you try to replicate it?”

Tech: “We’ll do that later if necessary. For now, let’s just make sure everything you’re doing is on the up and up.”

(Frustrated, I walk him through everything that’s happening, again. He just keeps reiterating that I must have done something wrong, and I keep asking him to try and see if he gets the same error. When he loops back around to saying I must not be logged in, AGAIN, I hang up and go down to his office, make him move aside, and show him, right in front of him, what I’m doing and the error I’m getting. I have to tell him to pay attention multiple times because he keeps sighing in a put-upon way and fiddling with his phone.)

Me: “Okay. You just saw me do everything correctly, right in front of you, and I still got the error. What is happening?”

Tech: “I told you, you… Oh. Well, why aren’t you doing [completely different process than the one I’ve been following for years]?”

Me: *baffled* “Why would I? That’s not the way the system works.”

Tech: “It is now. I made some updates yesterday, so you need to do things that way from now on. I told you about this, hon.”

Me: “You absolutely did not, and please don’t call me ‘hon.'”

(While he initially insisted he did, when he pulled up his email to prove it, what he’d actually done was save the message as a draft instead of sending it. He never apologized for the confusion or his attitude. I found out from another coworker that he’d gone to complain to our boss about my “bad attitude.” My boss just laughed and said, “I’ve never heard her so much as raise her voice; what did you do?” Keep in mind I still HADN’T actually raised my voice to him at all. He quit a couple weeks later, saying he was looking for a company a little less “high maintenance,” right after he’d been reprimanded for coming in more than an hour late three days in a row. Can’t say we miss him, and the new guy we hired is absolutely fantastic.)

We’ll Sit In The Ong-Back

, , , | Working | June 14, 2018

(My boyfriend and I are traveling in Thailand, and we decide to try and see a muay-thai match, so we go to a nearby stadium. At the ticket window, we check the prices, and decide on third-class for $20 instead of first for $60.)

Me: *tapping the seat chart, since my Thai isn’t great* “Third, please.”

(The ticket-seller glances at us, clearly the only white people in line, and also taps the chart.)

Ticket-Seller: “First.”

Me: “No, third.”

Ticket-Seller: “Farang—” *white people* “—always sit in first.”

Me: “We want tickets for third-class, please.”

Ticket-Seller: “But there will be Thai people there!”

Me: “I hope so; we’re in Thailand!”

(Third-class seats turned out to be perfectly comfortable, and everyone was too busy cheering the athletes on to notice or care about the white couple cheering, too. As an added bonus, my boyfriend checked out the first-class area in his way back from the bathroom, and it turned out they were selling the same beer for twice the price!)

Teachers Barely Make A Mint

, , , , , | Learning | June 14, 2018

(My classmate sees my teacher getting a mint out of his desk as he is asking to go the bathroom.)

Classmate: “Can I have a mint?”

Teacher: “No.”

Classmate: “Why?”

Teacher: “Because then I would have to give everyone a mint.”

Classmate: “Rock-paper-scissors, then.”

Teacher: “No.”

Classmate: “Best out of three.”

Teacher: “Just go to the bathroom.”

Classmate: *as he is walking out of the room, yells* “[Teacher] has mints!”

(Everyone stares at the teacher.)

Teacher: “D*** it, [Classmate]!”

Making Of A Murderer

, , , , , , | Related | June 14, 2018

(My brother, who is months away from adulthood, is trying to confront my mum on the issue of her regularly employing emotional blackmail to get him to do what she wants. It has made him miserable enough that it’s impacted his morale and made him less willing to study, not more. He decides to bring it up with her. My dad and I are in the same room, although we’ve mostly been quiet so that he can do the talking on his own behalf. I have seen enough of these “interventions” with my mum to know that unless my brother is willing to firmly enforce the boundaries he’s trying to set, any change in behaviour from my mum will be lucky to last a week. As such, although I’ve always tried to encourage my brother to stand his ground, I have grown rather weary and cynical towards these family meetings, and I’ve particularly run out of patience for my mum’s excuses or “defenses.” At this point, they have been discussing and arguing, practically in circles, for at least half an hour now.)

Brother: “The thing that I really hate, Mum, is when you threaten to call up my friends and teachers when you think I’m playing too much or not studying hard enough, or whatever. It’s really hurtful.”

Dad: *in disbelief* “No… Really? Seriously, [Mum], you can’t be doing this; he’s almost 18!”

Me: “Mhm.”

Brother: “Yes! And she’s actually gone through with it, too, when I tried calling her bluff; she actually picks up the phone and starts calling them.”

Mum: *indignant* “You’re making things out to be so much worse than they really are! How many times have I done that, [Brother]? Was it every time? Was it every day?”

Brother: *groans in frustration* “No, but—”

(With that, my patience is out. I have run out of f***s to give.)

Me: *rolls eyes* “Oh, gee, Your Honour, I know I’m facing murder charges, but let’s look at the facts here: it’s not like I killed someone every day, so can you really call me a murderer? I mean, fair’s fair.”

(My brother has his head in his hands. My dad tries to shush me and stifle a chuckle at the same time and is rather unsuccessful in both endeavours. My mum makes a point of ignoring me. She regains composure and tries again, a little quieter this time.)

Mum: *deliberately not looking at me and addressing only my brother* “Tell me, [Brother], did I do that today?”

Me: *throwing my hands up dramatically* “Oh, Your Honour! The unfairness of it all! Okay, so maybe I did kill some people in the past month, but Christ, give me some credit! I didn’t kill anyone today, did I?!”

(My dad lost it and collapsed into a fit of giggles while my brother just about threw his hands in the air. I don’t think much progress was ultimately achieved that day. I may have been a bit unhelpful in that regard. Oops.)

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