Turning Into A Soap Opera

, , , , | Right | July 22, 2019

(I am working as a volunteer in a reenactment of Bethlehem at the time of the birth of Christ. I am working as a soap maker with three other women and a two-year-old. One half of the area is our shop and the other is a living area. I am working in the shop, explaining soap making to curious guests and handing out samples to children)

Me: “Hello, welcome to my soap shop!”

Guest: *says something in Spanish*

Daughter: *translates* “Can she have one of those?” *points to samples*

(I normally only give samples to children, but if an adult asks I don’t refuse.)

Me: “Here you go!”

(The lady takes the sample and pops it in her mouth. Her daughter and I lock eyes. The soap we have on display is homemade and I get told it looks like cheese all the time.)

Daughter: “Jabon!” *the Spanish word for soap; something I learned from the encounter*

(They leave.)

Coworker: “Do you need a break?”

Me: “Of course!”

(I delight the guests by playing dreidel with the baby until my coworker comes over and whispers to me.)

Coworker: “We had a lady come and eat some of the myrrh.”

(Myrrh is an amber-rock-looking thing that smells good. One of our soaps is made with it and it’s one of the gifts the Wise Men gave to Jesus so we have it on display.)

Me: *facepalm* “It’s going to be a long night.”

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Trying To Get A Foot In On That Sale

, , , , , | Working | July 11, 2019

(My friend and I are returning from a food court in a shopping mall when we get caught by one of those very aggressive lotion and cosmetic kiosk salesmen. I am one of those people who can’t seem to ignore them if I hear they’re speaking to me.)

Creepy Salesman: “Try this lotion on your hands, ladies? It will make your skin irresistibly soft!”

Me: “No, thank you; I don’t like anyone touching my hands.”

(We both continue walking away from him.)

Creepy Salesman: *calling at us loudly over the crowd* “Well, how about your feet?!”

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When Life Gives You Gay Lemons…

, , , , , | Right | June 21, 2019

(I work in a lemonade stand inside of a college football stadium, so, therefore, most of our customers are drunk college boys. We have two flavors: regular and sugar-free pink lemonade.)

Customer: “What kind of lemonade do you have?”

Me: “Well, we have regular and pink, which is sug—“

Customer: *cuts me off mid-sentence* “That’s gay! I’m not drinking pink lemonade. That’s gay!

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Unfiltered Story #153762

, , , | Unfiltered | June 7, 2019

(I am working at the concessions stand for a small theater company, during their summer outdoor show. We are currently located in a park, right next to a dry fake river. I see a small child run by holding his crotch. I think nothing of it, and head off to put away some boxes. When I come back, though, I see his dad quickly pulling the kid’s pants up. They give me guilty looks and walk away. I look down. On the concrete riverbank is a very obvious ‘water’ stain. I run over to my coworkers.)

ME: Hey, uh, you guys? I think that kid just peed over there…
COWORKERS #1&2: WHAT!?!?

Eel Lady Attacks!

, , , , , | Right | April 19, 2019

(I’m a sushi chef in a small kiosk in a grocery store. We rent the kiosk from the store but are owned by a parent company. One of the rolls we have is slices of eel on balls of rice, topped with sesame seeds and a sauce.)

Customer: “EXCUSE ME!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “What are these… things on the eel?!”

Me: “Those are sesame seeds, ma’am.”

Customer: “I don’t want them! Make me a new one this instant!”

(She then opens the package containing the sushi and throws it at me, hitting my chest and smearing sauce down my front. I stare at her and slowly turn, making her a new set with no seeds. I hand it to her and she walks away, no thank you or apology. Twenty minutes later, she storms back up, and again, she throws the eel at me, this time hitting my face, as well.)

Customer: “THERE ARE NO SESAME SEEDS!”

Me: *trying to keep my cool, because I need the job* “Ma’am, you requested that I make you a roll with no seeds.”

Customer: “Don’t you lie to me, you little b****! I want my g**d*** roll made right!”

(I very quietly made her a new roll, this time pouring the seeds into a sauce cup with a lid. I handed it to her, and she left again. Ten minutes later, the lady came back with a grocery store manager, demanding that I be fired for my rudeness. He listened to my side and told her that even if I had done anything wrong, he had no authority to fire me, as I was not his employee. She stomped her feet in the most childish way and stormed out. Thirty minutes later, I looked up to see Eel Lady, as she is now known, walking back through the door, her cheeks puffy. She walked up to me, chewing, and then proceeded to spit chewed-up eel and rice all over me. Eel Lady was then escorted out and permanently banned from the store.)

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