Finger Lickin’ Bad

, , , | Right | May 22, 2020

I work at a fast food place that sells chicken. Grilled chicken, chicken tenders, and boneless or traditional wings are our only options, and it states so on the giant sign outside.

Me: “Welcome to [Fast Food Place]; will this be for here or to go?”

Tourist Wife: “To go. We’ve never been here, so we’ll need a moment.”

Me: “Of course! If you have any questions about the menu, please ask me. But our most popular meal is the plate.”

Tourist Husband: “No, do you have any bucket deals? We have to bring it back to four kids.”

Me: “We have a twenty-piece finger or wing box.”

Tourist Wife: “No he means like real chicken.”

Me: “Um… You mean thighs and legs and such as that?”

Tourist Wife: “Yes, like Kentucky-fried chicken?”

I give directions to KFC.

Me: “Or there is a place like Popeye’s right there.”

Tourist Wife: “No, we’re in Kentucky. We want real Kentucky-fried chicken, not these fake chicken fingers.”

I’m at a loss. I have no idea where to find “real chicken” this time of night, and I don’t even think if we have a place like that in town.

Me: “I really do apologize. I’m afraid there is no real Kentucky chicken here. Our company is based out of [Another Southern State]. I assure you, though, that the chicken we do have is the best in the industry, delivered fresh daily and made right every time.”

Tourist Husband: “I think we’re done here. I can’t feed my kids fake chicken.” 

Me: “Well, have a safe trip and good luck!”

Manager: “What was that about?”

Me: “How dare you?! Trying to pass off fake chicken as real? For shame!

Manager: “Uh, chicken tenderloin is real chicken.”

Me: “No. It’s not real unless it has bones in it and is fried by the ghost of Colonel Sanders himself!”

Manager: “Did you direct them to KFC?”

Me: “Not Kentucky enough.”

Manager: “…”

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New Venue For The Derby: Surface Of The Sun

, , , , , | Right | May 20, 2020

It’s the day before a large demolition derby and my coworker is helping a customer, who has a pretty thick country accent, try to find some paint for his derby car.

Coworker: “What kind of paint do you need?”

Customer: “Hi-temp paint for my derby car.”

Coworker: “Okay, well, we have high temp engine enamel, rated to 550F.”

Customer: “That’s not hot enough.”

Coworker: “Okay, well, we also have some exhaust paint that’s rated to 2000F.”

Customer: “Still not hot enough. You ever ridden in a derby car?”

Coworker: “No.”

Customer: “It runs at 5000 degrees.”

Somehow, my coworker manages to keep a straight face.

Coworker: “Well, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any paint rated that high.”

After the customer huffs out of the store, the coworker tells us the story.

Me: “He does know that 5000F is about half the temperature of the surface of the sun, and that the car would have melted long before that, right?”

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This Is Why You Should Only Break One Law At A Time

, , , , , | Legal | May 10, 2020

I am driving to work one morning and get stuck in traffic near the interstate exit lane. The lady behind me tries to switch lanes but hits my rear bumper. I get out and inspect the damage. There’s enough to justify exchanging insurance information. The lady who hit me gets out.

Lady: “Don’t call the cops!”

Me: “I need a police report for my insurance.”

In retrospect, I smelled alcohol, but the accident plus the rush-hour traffic have me more focused on exchanging information without getting killed than putting two and two together.

Lady: “Don’t call the cops! I’ll pay for the damage!”

Me: “Lady, I don’t know you from Adam. I can’t take your word for it.”

Lady: “I swear on my kid’s lives, I’ll pay for the damage! Please don’t call the cops!”

The police roll up without me having to call them because, you know, it’s rush hour and a huge line of traffic is conspicuous.

Policeman #1: “Please return to your cars.”

I get in my car and watch the following unfold via my rearview mirror: [Policeman #1] talks to [Lady]. He makes a call on his walkie-talkie. Another police car rolls up. So far, I don’t think anything strange is going on. 

Then, an unmarked police car rolls up. Then, a second unmarked car rolls up and a policewoman gets out. All the while, a lot of talking is going on with [Lady]. The policewoman handcuffs [Lady]. [Policeman #1] walks up to my car. After checking my license and registration:

Policeman #1: “You’re good to go. You can pick up the police report tomorrow after 9:00 at the downtown office.”

Me: “Oh, uh… Will that have her insurance information in it?”

Policeman #1: “She doesn’t have insurance.”

Me: “You’re kidding.”

Policeman #1: “No. She doesn’t have insurance. She just got off her shift at [Bar]. She’s driving on an expired license. In her mother’s car. Which has an expired plate and registration. That, plus she’s DUI, means she’s going to jail.”

Me: “So… I guess my insurance will have to cover this one.”

Policeman #1: “Yep.”

I end up going to her court date. I am still mad that someone could be that irresponsible. I am told to meet with the prosecutor and let him know I am there and why. I walk into an eight-by-ten office packed floor to ceiling with paperwork. There are at least four other guys in that office all working furiously.

A very haggard-looking attorney looks up at me and says, with a sigh:

Attorney: “Can I help you?”

I explain why I’m there, and he gets a puzzled look on his face, which I like to interpret as “Huh, an actual concerned citizen,” but could also be “What a dufus; I’m busy.”

Attorney: “You can go. We don’t need your testimony. She’s got some other stuff going on. She’s going to jail for a while.”

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In The Spirit Of Fellowship With Coworkers

, , , , , , | Working | April 27, 2020

This prank on a coworker required a degree of sophistication, preparation, and a little engineering but it came off great. [Target] is in charge of shipping and receiving and works in the warehouse area of our office. [Target] is, I guess you would say, easily spooked, which makes him the perfect candidate.

I rigged up a zip line in the back warehouse, constructed a shape of something resembling a ghost with a wig head and sheet, attached it to the zip line so that it would zoom across the warehouse where it would be captured by our security cameras. I had to put up the zip line for testing and take it down so it wouldn’t be detected during the day.

I finally got it to where Tristan — the name we gave our ghost — would sail across the warehouse at the right speed. The trick was how to get Tristan to release in the middle of the night where he would be captured with a time stamp on our cameras that had night vision. I tied a restraining cord to Tristan and put the other end of the cord in a frozen bottle of water. This way, as the ice turned into water, the string would release and Tristan would complete his journey.

It worked perfectly. So now, we had this video of some unidentified form drifting across the warehouse in the middle of the night on our camera systems.

The next day at work my coworkers [Accomplice #1], [Accomplice #2], and [Target] were in the office chatting. [Accomplice #1] casually mentioned how tired she was because she received a call from our security monitoring company around 4:00 am saying that motion had been detected in our back warehouse.

While they were chatting, [Accomplice #1] began reviewing video footage from the warehouse from the night before. The cameras only record if there is an event, so it wasn’t hard to find the right spot on the footage. Sure enough, at 4:08 am, there was Tristan soaring across the warehouse. The first time they saw it, it was a WTF moment. They ran the footage back.

When [Target] saw it again, there was a momentary pause, then bye! [Target] proceeded to walk back to his area, grab his things, and walk out.

“You tell [Boss] she’s gonna have to get somebody else,” he said, and he proceeded to get in his car and leave. He was gone before anyone had a chance to explain. Finally, after we reached [Target]’s cell phone and explained, he did agree to come back. He was a good sport about it but has sworn revenge on me.

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Unfiltered Story #192219

, , | Unfiltered | April 18, 2020

I the opening manager of a store.
Every morning I get to work about an hour before the store opens.
I have to count out tills for the day, count receipts from the day before, fill out a mountain of paperwork and get to the bank and back, all before opening.
Needless to say, I do not turn on any lights or do snything to indicate anyone is even on the store.
In addition there are signs posted on the front door and one in the big window on the front clearly stating our hours, and that we open at 9:30 am.
So of course this happens at least once a week as I am leaving around 9 am for the bank run.
I leave, car keys in hand, no lights on in the store save for the security light, alarm screaming till the door is locked, lock the door bchind me and this happens.
Customer runs up as I am wdlking away as asks “are you open?”
At least once a week.
My fxvofite may be the customer waiting she no returned from the bank about 9:15 am last still (note,still not 9:30 and both signs are still up stating hours)
She was standing there with one of my coworkers as I walked up.
Customer: well about time you got here.
Me: well it’s not opening time yet
I unlock doors and tell my coworker to come in, calling him by name and telling him he can start by unpacking dome boxes.
Customer tries to push her way in, despite alarm going off and with no lights on.
I ask her to wait outside for a few more minutes till we are ready to open
Customer: why aren’t you open? There are a lot of people here who want to come in. What’s taking so long”
I tell her it’s not 9:30 and we are still
Getting ready,
I also looked surround at the otherwise empty sidewalk and hoped all those other people weren’t inside her head.