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It Isn’t The Wild West Anymore

, , , , | Right | April 12, 2018

(I work as a cab driver in Las Vegas. While I have a fair share of stupid customers, this one really takes the cake. I accept the radio call telling me to pick up a passenger at the public bus depot downtown. As I am on my way there, I call the customer to verify where I am picking them up. It is near sunset.)

Passenger: “I’m standing at [Street] and [Wrong Street Name].”

Me: “Do you mean [Correct Street Name]? That puts you on the east side of the building. I can only pick you up on [Street], on the west side of the building.”

Passenger: “Well, I just moved here and don’t know where that is.”

Me: “It’s on the west side of the building.”

Passenger: “I don’t know which direction that is.”

Me: *proceeds to pull over and slam forehead onto steering wheel*

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When Attendants Are Very Attendant

, , , , , | Working | April 2, 2018

(My husband and I are flying home from our vacation. I’m a nervous flyer, and turbulence elevates my anxiety, big-time. Sure enough, our plane hits some turbulence. I close my eyes and start counting to 1000 in my head; for some reason, that seems to help. My husband holds my right hand to comfort me. A minute or so later, someone else grasps my left hand.)

Me: “Eh?” *opens eyes*

Flight Attendant: “Are you okay?” *lets go of my hand*

Me: “I’m a little nervous.”

Flight Attendant: “Look at me. If I’m not scared, you don’t have to be. Read your book; you’ll be fine.”

(And I was. I wrote a letter to the airline later, giving them her name and the flight number, telling them how awesome she is. I hope she got a raise.)

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Not A Fan

, , , , , | Right | March 28, 2018

A customer walks into my shop carrying a fan I’d sold him the day before. He promptly deposits it onto my counter. When asked, “What is the problem, sir?” he responds, “Doesn’t work.”

So I assemble the fan, putting each of its blades on, hooking up the electrical, and finally taking the battery cover off of the fan to locate the “SET” button. He tells me he did this at his house when it “didn’t work.” In so doing, I notice the plastic shrink they put on included batteries is still on his, thus preventing the necessary contact.

Once I inform him of the problem and proceed to make his fan work in front of him, his response is, “Well, I didn’t like it, anyway. Can I return it?” When asked what he doesn’t like about it, he responds, “Doesn’t work.”

Have you ever felt like you’re in one universe and there are at least a few others who hail from a very different place?

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Some Father Lessons Can Be A Gamble

, , , , , , | Related | March 16, 2018

(Once I am legally able to gamble, my dad takes me to a Las Vegas casino so I can try it out.)

Dad: “Here’s how they get you and you lose your money. Say you use a quarter on the slots.”

(I put a quarter in and I get a few spins for it. I win $0.50.)

Me: “You call this losing?”

Dad: “No, no, watch. Try again.”

(I reuse the $0.50 on more spins. I win $1. He continues to try to show me how I’ll lose my money on the slots, with me adding smart aleck comments, as my winnings jump to $3, then $5.)

Me: “Boy howdy, you sure do know how to teach me the ways in which slot machines will s*** me over.”

Dad: “It seems that way, but winning and losing can come in streaks. And the losing is what eats up your money. Just keep trying.”

(Long story short, the slot machine continues to grant me little winnings in chump change. I finally call a stop when I have about $25, and cash it out.)

Dad: “Fine, so, that machine was out to prove me wrong. Let’s try a different game.”

(We went to the Keno counter and got a ticket each. Dad lost. I won a few hundred dollars. We tried blackjack, and I won a number of rounds there, too. That trip became a family legend, as I left with roughly $2,500 in winnings from Dad’s attempt to show me how someone can “lose all their money.” I do know that gambling can be an addiction, and that it can break somebody very easily, but that one day the entire casino seemed to conspire to troll my father!)

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Walking Tall After The Fall

, , , , , , , | Friendly | February 14, 2018

(I’m driving to my evening class in my beat-up little car, and I pull off the freeway and take the off-ramp towards the college. I stop at the red light at the top of the hill, but the car behind me doesn’t and ends up rear-ending me. It doesn’t feel like a hard hit, so, as soon as I can, I slowly pull through the intersection and head immediately into the parking lot of the strip mall next to me. The other car, which looks equally as old as mine, follows me and parks in a nearby spot. I can see the two guys in the front seat and they are freaking out a bit. I get out of the car, and as soon as they see me, they panic more. I’m a big guy — well over six feet tall, and 300+ pounds of muscle — with a full beard.)

Me: “Hey, you guys all right?”

(They get out of the car, but they never take their eyes off me. I’m almost a foot taller than them, and I can see them shaking.)

Driver: “D-d-dude! Oh, man, dude! I am so sorry! It was just a little bump, dude!”

Passenger: “Yeah, man, we’re so sorry!”

(I walk to the back of my car and take a look. There’s barely a little dent in my back bumper, so I check the front of their car, too, and it doesn’t even look like there’s any damage at all. The whole time, the two guys are shaking, fidgeting, and apologizing profusely. I’m starting to feel really bad for them, as they look young, and I’m sure they are scared of me.)

Me: “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any real damage. So, we don’t need to bother calling anyone. Are you two okay?”

(They immediately relax and smile, and the driver kind of does a funny little jump-dance thing.)

Driver: “Yeah, man! No, we’re all right! Yeah!”

Passenger: “Dude, we’re cool! We’re all cool! You want a beer?”

(In horror, I watch as the passenger pulls a nearly-empty six-pack out of the front seat and tries to hand me the last bottle. I have no more pity for these idiots. I bring myself up to my full height, clench my fists, and put on my scariest face.)

Me: *in a deeper voice as I glare at the driver* “Were you drinking?!”

(They immediately freeze in place, their faces go pale, and they look at me in wide-eyed terror. The driver looks like he might pass out as he stutters:)

Driver: “Um… Uh… We… Uh…”

Passenger: “Uh… Well… Just a little.”

Me: “Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid that is?! You could kill someone! I ought to call the police right now! Your a***es deserve to be in jail!”

Driver: *full-on panicking*Wait! No! Please, no! No! My parents would kill me! Please! We’ll do anything!”

Me: “Anything?!”

Driver: “Anything, man! Anything! Just don’t call the cops!”

(I step forward, and they both flinch like I’m going to hit them, but instead, I grab the remaining beer out of the passenger’s hand, pull out my keys, and pop the top. I turn the bottle upside down and pour it out on the ground at their feet. I step back and get in the driver’s face.)

Me: *in my most intimidating voice* “Lock your car and walk! Sober up, and never drive drunk again! DO. YOU. GET. ME?!”

Driver: *shaking and absolutely terrified* “Y-Yes!”

(I turn and get in the face of the passenger.)

Me: “DO. YOU. GET. ME?!”

Passenger: *cowering and equally terrified* “Y-Yes, sir!”

Me: “NOW, WALK!”

(They stood still for a moment before I bellowed, “WALK!” again, and the passenger took off down the strip mall while the driver fumbled with his keys to lock his door, and then ran to catch up with his friend. I stood watching them jog all the way to the end of the parking lot and across the street before I got back in my car and headed to class. My class was four hours long, so I didn’t get out until almost 11 pm, but when I did, I headed back to the freeway and saw that the guy’s car was still there.)

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