Makes You Wish You’d Stayed Home(Schooled)

, , , , , | | Learning | June 12, 2019

I was 11 and had just started school for the first time, as I’d been home-educated since I was four. I hadn’t had a structured education system, so school rules and unwritten codes were very new to me. It didn’t help that, although I wasn’t diagnosed at the time, I am autistic and struggle to pick up social cues.

On my second day of school, we had a class called Personal and Social Education, which was basically life skills and sex ed, and we had guest speakers from the police, fire department, etc., to teach us how to handle life.

This particular day, the first class of the year, the teacher was explaining to everyone that if they didn’t attend school, their parents were breaking the law. Naturally, this confused me; my mother had been the media coordinator for an alternative education group we belonged to for years, so I was quite well-informed on the legality of home education. I didn’t grasp that the teacher was trying to tell us about the consequences of skipping out on classes, because I didn’t know that was something people did. I just knew that not attending school was perfectly legitimate, and the teacher clearly hadn’t heard about home education, so I should be helpful and explain.

Naive little me put my hand up and said my mother had educated me at home. Before I could get any further in my explanation, this teacher gave me the most disgusted look and announced loudly, “Well, your mother should have gone to prison!

I was thoroughly humiliated. I put my hand down and stared at the desk, and spent the rest of the class trying not to cry, because the teacher was Authority and she’d just told me I was wrong and that my mum had broken the law. I was devastated and, being as naive as I was, I was convinced I’d just got my mum into serious legal trouble.

When my mum picked me up after school, she could tell I was upset. It didn’t take much prodding before I broke down sobbing. I told her what had happened and that I didn’t want her to go to prison.

She came into school the next morning to speak to the principal, and while I never knew exactly what was said in that meeting, I never saw that teacher around the school again.

But I learned a very important rule that day; I was never to say something that implied a teacher might be wrong, or challenge something I knew was wrong, because that was Not What We Do At School. It pretty much destroyed my confidence and signposted to everyone in my class that I was an easy target.

Just hear a kid out when they’re trying to make a point, teachers.

Unfiltered Story #139384

, , , | Unfiltered | February 7, 2019

(Your picture of Bea Arthur captioned “No I will not have a nice day!” reminds me of my granny. It’s the ’80s and the Reagan/Thatcher consensus has lead one or two retailers to think they can graft US retail culture into the UK. It doesn’t always go well. My granny and I are just turning to leave a hardware shop.)

Assistant: Have a nice day!

Granny: Excuse me, young man?

Assistant: Have a nice day?

Granny: I shall have exactly the sort of day I want to, for all the business it is of yours! Now, I’ll thank you to attend to your duties as they relate to the shop and not enquire as to the private affairs of your patrons! I shall be seeing Mr. [Manager] at the Civic Hall meeting on Saturday and you may rest assured I shall let him know of your impertinence! Now, good day!

People Lose Their Jobs After The Great Crash

, , , , , , , , | Working | August 23, 2018

In a busy warehouse it can often be difficult to store everything. In such instances, the answer is often to start stacking pallets to consolidate them into a smaller area. Whilst space efficient, this does carry the risk of having a stack collapse if some thought isn’t put into the matter.

On this occasion, we were receiving four full articulated (26 pallet) loads of piston heads at 600 heads per pallet. The heads arrived in plastic shipping containers with grooves in the top to line up a crate above — in other words, perfect for stacking. However, the warehouse manager and I, the deputy warehouse manager, agreed that due to weight and product value, we should go no more than three high, and informed all the staff working that this was to be the case.

Fast forward a few hours: wagon three of four is being unloaded and I’m in my office filing paperwork when I hear an almighty crash. I run out to find hundreds of piston heads strewn across the floor and an extremely sheepish forklift driver. After a bit of investigation, it is found that for whatever reason he had attempted to stack five-high, and the stack had promptly fallen over once he’d pulled the forks out.

Cleanup took two days due to the heads being small enough to roll under pallets elsewhere in the warehouse. All told, just over 2,000 heads were thrown loose in the fall. Only some 400 carried visible damage; however, due to the precision nature of the items, all items thrown from their pallets had to be written off at the expense of £120 per head. Due to insurance, we avoided having to pay this out of our own pocket, but the customer promptly cancelled our contract with them. The forklift driver was let go soon after.

Doesn’t Give A Fork(lift) What Comes Out Of His Mouth

, , , , , , , | Working | August 14, 2018

I work for a medium-sized haulage company as a driver, and also as an extra hand in the warehouse — I’m qualified to drive fork lift trucks — whenever I need to make some extra cash.

Our warehouse only has two permanent staff: the warehouse manager who is a hard-working, highly capable man in his 30s, and the permanent forklift driver, who is a deeply unhealthy man in his late 50s with serious work ethic issues and almost non-existent people skills, who’s pretty much coasting until retirement at this point.

The forklift driver is almost invariably in a bad mood, always hungover, and generally just an a**e to everyone who sets foot in the yard, often going as far as insulting individuals or their parentage, etc. However, if you confront him about his behaviour — he’s not a large man, and forty years of heavy smoking hasn’t done him any favours — he will back down permanently against you as an individual and be considerably more polite with you from then on.

Truckers aren’t exactly a passive lot, so unsurprisingly, the majority of our own staff have had words with him at one time or another, so with our own staff he’s not too bad anymore. That being said, people from third parties pretty much always get grief off of him for pointless things like parking in the wrong bit of the yard when it’s completely empty, etc.

It was just past seven pm and we were pretty much done for the day when a van appeared to drop off the last pallet of the day, parking slightly off to the side. We do have marked bays for unloading vehicles, but we generally make no effort to enforce this until we get more than one vehicle in the yard. However, the forklift driver shouted, “Can you not see the bay? Did your mum not teach you to read, you stupid, dumb c***?”

In a shocking twist, the van driver had an issue with this comment, and emerged from his van to reveal he was well clear of six-and-a-half feet tall and had a build not all that far from a rhino on steroids. He calmly said, “Do you want to f****** say that again?”

Knowing at this point how deeply screwed he was, the forklift driver frantically tried to backpedal as the van driver walked up to him, calmly applied the forklifts handbrake, and then gripped the forklift driver with both hands and lifted and pinned him to the roof of the forklift. He then hissed something into the guy’s ear, and the forklift driver frantically bleated out a string of apologies. The van driver dropped him back into his seat and turned to the warehouse manager and me, who had gathered nearby to try and intervene if things really kicked off.

The van driver calmly asked, “Bay 1?” My manager confirmed this and we unloaded his pallet. Once he’d left, we asked the forklift driver if he was okay and whether he wanted the police called. He declined the police and just opted to go home.

I didn’t hear what the van driver said to him, and he’s never discussed it since, but it shook him up so much he was nice to everyone for about six weeks afterwards.  

I don’t condone violence as a way of getting your point across, but this guy’s been threatened by so many people at this point that I’m amazed he hasn’t learned to keep his mouth shut yet.

That Story Is Bull

, , , , , , | Working | August 14, 2018

(Our fast food store is in a semi-rural area. We have a pub on one side and a major road on another, and the remaining two sides are grazing fields frequented by a sizable herd of cattle. The fields have a high fence separating us from them; however, the quality of said fence isn’t great. One day when I am working drive-thru at the payment window, I hear a loud bang. I lean out to see, to my surprise, a large and rather agitated bull walking through the drive-thru.)

Me: *shouting* “[Manager], we have a bull in the drive-thru lane!”

Manager: *not at all believing me* “I’m sure we do, [My Name].”

(The bull goes running past me, hitting cars as it passes, and goes past the collection window where my manager is working.)

Bull: “MOO!”

Manager: “…”

(The bull then ran out onto the road, halting traffic for close to two hours whilst the police first tried to corral it back into the field, and finally tranquilised it when it started to get more aggressive.)

Page 1/212