Love Through This Family Flows Heavily

, , , , , , | Related | October 16, 2017

(I am in a group chat with my aunt who resides in Australia with her family, my mum, and my grandmother, who used to be a nurse back in the day. We are all close and have a great sense of humour. All this happens over text. My aunt has just told us her two sons are sick with Influenza B, and recounted an amusing story, during which her younger son was acting up due to his sickness, and his older brother whispered, “So much drama.” )

Grandma: “I would love to have been there to witness all that!”

Mum: “I’m bleeding to death. My period is so heavy. Do you want to witness that, too, Mum?!”

Grandma: “You think I’m crazy?!”

Mum: “Why are you playing favourites? Why is drama cute when [Aunt’s Youngest Son] does it, but not me?”

Grandma: “Because one is a kid, and one is a matured lady, I hope!”

Mum: “I’m still bleeding to death, just in case you decide to care!”

(As this is going on, I’m quickly searching up some information online and find what I need.)

Me: “You’re losing five pints of blood?”

Mum: *eye roll emoticon* “Maybe four.”

Me: “You mean 1892 ml of blood? When the average heavy flow is 65 ml?”

Mum: “Yup.”

Me: “Twenty times more than the normal ‘unusually heavy’ flow?”

Grandma: “Just drink lots of fluid to maintain the body volume.”

Mum: *sighs* “Don’t see you telling [Aunt’s Youngest Son] to drink lots of fluids!”

Me: *copying a comment from earlier in the chat* “‘Hope the boys get well soon. Make sure they drink enough.’ Actually, she did.”

Grandma: “Ignore your sister, [Aunt]. She’s just being silly.”

Mum: “Dying is not being silly!”

Grandma: “Yes, it is, when it’s merely lip service.”

Less Pick Up, More Put Down

, , | Related | July 19, 2017

(I am at dinner with my mum, grandma, and a bunch of my grandma’s good friends and their respective children (and grandchildren). I am the oldest grandchild at 21; there are also a 15-year-old boy, his younger sister, and a 6-year-old girl. My grandma and her friends are around their mid-70s or so. The boy has been talking about ‘pick-up’ lines with his mum and sister, and they ask him to ‘try it out’ on the elderly women for some laughs. Everyone at the table are close and have great senses of humour. Note that while I use the term ‘aunty’ they are not actually related to me; it’s a polite term in this country for anyone older than you by a significant amount of years.)

Boy: *to [Aunty #1]* “Do you have a map? I just got lost in your eyes.”

Aunty #1: *frowns* “Why do you need a map? Don’t you have GPS on your phone?”

(We all laugh, and he tries to explain it to her. She nods but is obviously confused. He turns to the second aunty.)

Boy: “Are you a keyboard? Because you’re my type.”

Aunty #2: *seriously and with a confused expression* “I’m not a typist.”

(Again, we laugh, and he tries to explain it to her.)

Aunty #2: “But I don’t have a typewriter.”

(He sighs and turns to the third aunty, which happens to be my grandmother.)

Boy: “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you I smile.”

(She nods as though she understands but it’s obvious she has no clue what he’s just said. He tries to explain it.)

Boy: “You know when you look at a camera you have to smile?”

Aunty #2: *interrupting* “Why?”

(He gives up and tries one last time, this time saying it to all three of them.)

Boy: “You’re so sweet, you give my dentures cavities.”

(At the word dentures, despite none of them actually using any, their faces light up in comprehension.)

Aunty #1: “Awww, that’s so sweet.”

Aunty #2: “That’s nice.” *she pauses* “I don’t think dentures can get cavities.”

Aunty #1: “If you have cavities you should probably stop eating sweets.”

(It’s clear that the meaning of this one has also gone over their heads. There is laughter all around and then a pause, during which Aunty #1 pipes up with this gem.)

Aunty #1: “So… these pick-up lines. Do you just use them on your phone, or do you actually talk to people?”

(He gave up and called it a night while the rest of us laughed so hard we cried.)

Please Don’t Be Here For Too Long

, , , | Right | June 19, 2017

(I work at a coffee shop in a rather posh mall. I am quite new at this job and have no experience at working before.)

Customer: “I’d like a [Coffee Beverage] to have here.”

Me: “Of course. May I have your name, ma’am?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “Umm, sorry, ma’am. May I have your name?”

Customer: *glares at me* “I’m having it here.”

Me: “I know that, ma’am, but may I please have your name?”

Customer: “WHY WOULD YOU NEED MY NAME WHEN I AM HAVING IT HERE?!”

Me: *startled* “Sorry, but we need it so that we can call out your name at the pick-up counter and give you the correct beverage.”

Customer: “I. Am. Having. It. HERE!”

Me: “I am aware of that but we still need your name, ma’am.”

Customer: *mumbles incoherently while continuing to glare at me*

Me: *writes down any name that came to mind* “Thank you, ma’am, and have a nice day!”

Customer: *rolls her eyes and walked away looking annoyed*

(I was flabbergasted and genuinely confused for the rest of the day as the customer was a regular and had had no problem cooperating on past visits.)