Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

Being A Nana Is A Thankless Job

, , , , , , | Related | December 27, 2020

When my grandmother is still alive, she sends my daughters Christmas presents in the mail. Because she lives in Great Britain and I live in Canada, she’s always anxious about whether or not they arrived successfully. Every year, without fail, I can count on my mum saying this to me around December 27.

Mum: “Nana says she hasn’t gotten a thank-you letter from you yet for the girls’ gifts.”

Then, depending on the situation, my reply is one of the following:

Me: “Christmas was only two days ago; I haven’t had a chance to write a letter yet, but I will.”

Me: “I sent her a thank-you letter immediately, but it’ll take a while to get there.”

Me: “I haven’t actually received the parcel yet. I promise to thank her as soon as I get it.”

One year, Christmas comes and goes without a parcel from Nana. I don’t think anything of it; I think perhaps she didn’t bother to send one. Then, around mid-January, Mum calls me:

Mum: “Nana says you haven’t thanked her for the girls’ Christmas presents!”

Me: “But—”

Mum: “It’s really too bad of you. You know how upset she gets if you don’t thank her.”

Me: “But—”

Mum: “All she wants is to know they arrived safely. Is that too much to ask?”

Me: “But Mum, they didn’t arrive safely. They didn’t arrive at all.”

Mum: *Pause* “Are you sure? She said she mailed them in early November.”

Me: “I’m absolutely sure.”

Mum: “Hmm. Okay, I’ll tell her.”

Finally, the parcel arrived in April, and I realized why it had taken so long. Nana had completely botched my address — so much so that it was a miracle the package arrived at all. That was when we knew that old age was taking its toll. I promptly sent her a thank-you letter, of course.

They’re In For A Surprise A La Mode

, , , , | Right | December 18, 2020

I work at a high-end restaurant as a hostess. I often have to help bussing tables and serving customers drinks when it is especially busy. This happens on one such day as I am serving some guests their coffee.

Customer: “Your dessert menu says, ‘a la carte.’ Does that mean they come on a cart?”

I just pause for a second, hoping to God he’s joking, before responding.

Me: “No, but that would be pretty cool!”

It’s All Your Fault Their Business Is Six Feet Under

, , , , | Working | December 15, 2020

This story happens when DVD rental stores are still a thing. The store in question is a Mom-and-Pop rival to the big chains. I like it because their owners are nerds, like my husband and me, and they have a lot of TV series available that the chains don’t have.

I borrow part of season two of “Six Feet Under,” and then my problems start. Several weeks later:

Owner: “Hey, just so you know, you haven’t returned that Six Feet Under DVD yet.”

Me: “Really? I could have sworn that I did.”

Owner: “Well, it’s not showing up on the system, and I can’t find it on the shelves, either.”

Me: “Aw, man. I have no idea where it is.”

Owner: “Can you have a good look for it at home?”

Me: “Of course.”

I go home and ransack my house. No luck. The next time I visit the store:

Owner’s Wife: “You still have that Six Feet Under DVD, and it’s now really overdue.”

Me: “I’ve looked everywhere. Are you sure that it’s not on the shelf?”

Owner’s Wife: “I’m sure; I’ve checked a few times.”

Me: “Rats. Can I just pay for a new copy?”

Owner’s Wife: “That’s okay. Just keep looking.”

Time goes by, and we have our carpets replaced throughout the house. This means that we empty out every single room as much as we can, and all of our furniture gets moved around. I am certain that the errant DVD will be found, but nope.

Owner: “Uh, that Six Feet Under DVD…”

Me: “I know! I can’t find it, no matter what. Please, can’t I just pay for a new copy?”

Owner: “See, the thing is, they’re not sold by the DVD; they’re sold by the season. You’d have to buy the entire season, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Me: “I really don’t mind.”

Owner: “Nah, it’s cool. Just keep looking.”

Months went by and then years. The owner and his wife would periodically remind me about the missing DVD, I’d offer to pay for an entire season, they’d kindly turn me down, and then the cycle would repeat the next time I visited their store. Sadly, they eventually went out of business. That DVD never showed up. I’m guessing it’s in the Bermuda Triangle.

We’re Expecting A Baby! But It Could Be A Velociraptor…

, , , , , | Healthy | December 2, 2020

I’m pregnant with my second daughter. My general practitioner is very nice but has a little trouble with English. He sends me for an ultrasound and this conversation happens at our next visit.

General Practitioner: “I have results from your ultrasound here.”

Me: “How does it look?”

General Practitioner: “You are having a monster.”

Me: *Horrified* “WHAT?” 

General Practitioner: “Yes. Very big baby. Probably ten pounds.”

Me: “Oh… Thank goodness.”

I probably should have told him that “monster” is NOT the word to use when describing a baby-to-be.

What A Weird Trail To Go Down

, , , , , | Friendly | November 13, 2020

My daughter’s friend invites her to join her and her family at their cabin for the weekend. [Daughter] is thrilled; we don’t have a cabin, and this one is REALLY nice.

She leaves mid-afternoon on Friday and gets back Sunday afternoon, whereupon we have this conversation.

Me: “How was your weekend?”

Daughter: “Fine. Uh, is there anything to eat?”

Me: “Sure, there are lots of leftovers in the fridge. But dinner’s going to be in just an hour—”

Daughter: “Oh, I’ll eat dinner; don’t worry. I have to have something now, though. I’m starving.”

She opens a container of leftovers and starts eating ravenously.

Me: “Wow, why are you so hungry?” *Laughs* “Didn’t they feed you?”

Daughter: “…”

Me: “They did feed you, right?”

Daughter: “Well, sort of. We got there around dinnertime on Friday, and there was a big bag of trail mix on the kitchen table. I was told to help myself, which sure, I did. I love trail mix. Seven o’clock came and went, though, and so did eight. I quietly asked my friend about dinner, thinking maybe I could help make it, or something. She pointed at the trail mix and said, ‘That’s dinner.’”

Me: “You’re kidding.”

Daughter: “It gets better. There was nothing for breakfast or lunch the next day, either. If I wasn’t worried about appearing rude, I would have taken off to the nearest town to get something else to eat. Plus, I didn’t have a car. We drove up in my friend’s car, so I would have had to borrow hers.”

Me:All you got to eat all weekend was trail mix?”

Daughter: “Yup. And the weirdest thing is that my friend didn’t seem to think this was strange at all.”

To this day, I don’t get it. It wasn’t that the family lacked money, and if cooking was too much effort, my kid would have been happy with a bowl of cereal.