A Member To Remember

, , , , | Right | December 8, 2018

(I am the only one working the ticket counter on a very slow weekday evening at a movie theater. I get a phone call from an elderly woman who does not know how to use the Internet, and needs me to look up tomorrow’s show times and read them to her over the phone. I’ve switched my monitor to read her tomorrow’s movies and times when a woman storms into our lobby and comes directly up to me.)

Customer: “Get off the phone!”

Me: *to the guest on the phone* “I… Er, excuse me one moment, ma’am—”

Customer: “I said, off the phone! One ticket for [Movie], next showing.”

Elderly Woman: “Wait. I just need to know one more thing: will your show times be the same on Thursday?”

Me: “Our movie times change daily. I’m sorry, ma’am, I need to put you on hold for—”

Customer: “I am a guild member! Get off the phone and serve the customer in front of you!”

(She reaches over the counter and presses the button on the phone to hang it up.)

Me: *somewhat flustered, as I’ve never had a customer this rude before* “You said [Movie]? The next showing? Where would you like to sit?”

Customer:Ugh, I hate this new assigned seating. I will be complaining to your bosses about this.”

(She jabs the screen selecting a seat, at least.)

Me: *staying polite and as pleasant as possible* “You said you were a guild member; could I see your card for the discount, please?”

Customer: *literally throws the card in my face with a flick of her wrist, so it smacks into my cheek* “Hurry up. The movie will start soon. My ticket will be free, too. Run the card. I don’t pay for movies; I’m a member.”

(I retrieve the card from the counter, and run the card so she can get her discount. The ticket and receipt print out, and I offer them both to her.)

Me: “Your ticket, ma’am.”

Customer: “It’s about time!”

(She snatches both from my hand, and storms off. It’s not until moments later I realize my register is still set for tickets for the next day, because of the phone call I was taking. She will end up having to sit in the theater for an hour before the movie starts, IF she manages to find the correct theatre, which she must do because she doesn’t come back out again during my shift. I do enjoy the little bit of unintentional Karma, though. I also realize moments later that I have forgotten to give her her guild card back. I flag down my manager and tell him what happened.)

Me: “So, that woman who came in earlier threw this at my face, and I was so shocked I forgot to give it back to her.”

Manager: “What? She threw it at you? Actually?”

Me: “Yeah. Bounced off my face and everything.”

Manager: “Well. We’ll just put this in the lost in found for her, then.” *dumps the card into the nearest trash can* “After all, we definitely want to keep her as a customer.” *rolls his eyes angrily*

How To Get Picked Up By Guys: Look Homeless

, , , , , , | Romantic | December 6, 2018

(I am out late at night, walking to a convenience store. I lead a largely nocturnal schedule so I sometimes have to go to stores at night. I live in an okay neighborhood, but not completely safe, so I do my best not to look like an attractive target for harassment or robbery. There is nothing I can do to hide being female, but I wear old frumpy clothes, going for a look somewhere between “poor” and “homeless.” This evening, about a block before I reach the store, a young guy in sweats and a hoodie, who’s casually walking in the other direction by me on the street, suddenly stops and turns to me.)

Guy: “Hey. Do you have any change to spare for me so I can take the bus?”

(It is too late for any bus line in this area to be running. I don’t carry any cash, in any case.)

Me: “No, I don’t. Sorry.”

Guy: “Oh, okay.” *goes on his way*

(Half a minute later, when he’s walked at least four house lengths away from me:)

Guy: “Hey! Hey! HEY! HEY! HEY!”

(I turn around and see he’s actually got his hands around the sides of his mouth to more effectively shout at me.)

Guy: “Hey! Do you wanna [unintelligible]?”

(I make a gesture that I don’t understand him.)

Guy: “Do you wanna [unintelligible]?”

(I make another gesture that I can’t hear.)

Guy: “Do you wanna [unintelligible]?”

(The best I could make it out in the moment, it sounded something like, “Do you wanna fight?” I was bit alarmed, and gestured again that I couldn’t hear him. Instead of doing anything sensible, like walking closer to me, the guy started making the “come here” beckoning gesture with his hands that is usually only made to little children. Having had quite enough of this dude bothering me, and having recently had another bad experience after a man made that same exact “come here” hand gesture at me and I was stupid enough to obey, I physically reared back while making a very alarmed expression, turned back around, and hurried super-fast in the opposite direction from him, to the store I was going to. Luckily, he didn’t follow me. Later, after going over the sounds in my head several times, I realized he had actually been calling at me, “Do you wanna ride?” Yes, the guy who’d just thirty seconds previously asked me to give him change so that he could take a — non-existent — bus, now decided it made sense to try to lure me in by offering me a ride.)

Need To Put More Than A Hundred Feet Between Me And You

, , , , , | Romantic | November 20, 2018

(My car’s gas gauge is wonky, and one time my car unexpectedly runs out of gas while on the road, around early afternoon. Luckily, traffic is sparse and I am in my neighborhood, maybe 100 feet from a gas station. I manage to park on the side of the street, fish my empty gas can out of the backseat, and walk the 100 feet across an intersection to the gas station. As I’m crouching down near one of the pumps, filling up the gas can, some dude suddenly looms right over my head. I can see his pickup truck with its door open parked right behind him; it’s obvious he’s not an employee here. It’s just as obvious that he’s not here to get gas, himself.)

Dude: “Uh… so… Um-hmm…”

(I ignore him and pretend to be terribly busy. Nothing good has EVER come to me from talking to strange men.)

Dude: *inching even closer to me* “Uhh… Um-HEM! HI! HELLO! MISS!”

(I sigh. Clearly he’s not going away.)

Me: *side-eyeing him* “Yes?”

Dude: *suggestively* “Soooo… I just saw you walking down the street with your gas can while I was driving.”

(There is a very expectant pause while he’s staring at me hard enough that it’s almost like he’s attempting hypnosis. Already knowing where this is going, I put on a sweet, condescending tone of voice and a fake smile.)

Me: “That’s great for you!”

(I immediately dropped the smile and turned away from him again. He was somewhat flustered at this, but wouldn’t you just know it – he persisted in repeatedly offering me “a ride” to my car, anyway. Shockingly, I said no. Several times over. He finally left, with extreme reluctance. I have a very high skepticism that it’s even possible he didn’t see how close my car was parked, but frankly, even if I had to walk 100 miles instead of 100 feet, I’d never have agreed to get into his truck. 100 feet! That’s how little it takes to have a creep notice you walking alone down a street and decide to follow you in his car!)

Man Who Encases His Privates In Lead Has The Last Laugh

, , , , , , , | Healthy | November 16, 2018

I had testicular cancer and surgery, plus radiation therapy. These treatments needed a lead box closed around my privates. At the end of the last treatment, when the nurse pulled my sheet off to remove the box, he found…

A popped-out single-use turkey thermometer indicating I was done. I had saved it from the Thanksgiving turkey just to place in my navel after the treatment.

He had to run from the room before bursting into laughter.

Beer With Me For A Moment

, , , , , , | Working | November 15, 2018

(In early 1994, I am invited over to the States from the UK by an American music software house, as a demonstrator for their flagship software program at a major trade show in California. Whilst at the show, one of their lead sales managers, knowing of my liking for beer, invites me out along with several other folks from the company for an evening at a local bar. This bar is apparently known for having something like 114 different beers from around the world. Anxious to introduce my friends to the peculiar delights of British beer, I peruse the section dedicated to my home country, at which point the alarm bells go off. There are three beers on offer: a low-alcohol brew borne out of the privations of World War II which hasn’t been brewed for UK consumption since 1976, though still brewed for export at that time, a favourite of Clint Eastwood, but only ever available in bottles, never on tap, and a strong cask ale known for its knee-trembler abilities when consumed to excess. I therefore order a jug of the final nectar for our drinking pleasure, which is duly delivered… at which point I feel the need to complain to the barman.)

Me: *after taking a sip* “This isn’t [Brand]!”

Barman: “Yes, it is, sir.”

Me: *deploying my best upper-class English accent* “Au contraire, dear boy! For your information, I was born 100 yards from their brewery in Chiswick, London. I was raised drinking this, my local brew, and can categorically assure you that this is not [Brand]!”

Barman: “What makes you think that?”

Me: “Well, for a start, you’re obviously serving it from a gas-pumped barrel; [Brand] is only ever served from a tap-and-vent barrel, hand-pumped via a long swan neck. Secondly, the colour is entirely wrong, and thirdly — and most importantly — it tastes nothing like [Brand]. I have no idea what you call it here, but in my country we have a little something called the Trades Descriptions Act, which makes it illegal to pass off a product as something else.”

Barman: “…”

Me: “Get me your manager.”

(The manager ended up giving us free drinks for the rest of the night which, despite this hiccup, proved highly entertaining for all concerned, and a prime example of American hospitality. I note with considerable pleasure that in the intervening years, America has embraced the production of craft ale/real ale and is now making some seriously excellent beers.)

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