A Date To Remember

, , , , | Romantic | September 7, 2018

(My mum and I are walking up to a market stall to buy coffees. There is an older man working at the counter. He turns to face my mum and says the following:)

Man: “Would you like me to date you?”

Mum: *turns red* “Um… What?”

Man: “Date? Yes?”

(At this point, the man holds up a pair of tongs with a dried date between them.)

Mum: *with a look of relief* “Oh! Yes, please.”

Scare Me? Not A Ghost Of A Chance

, , , , , | Related | July 10, 2018

(I’m seven years old when the story takes place, and my family is going to a flea market, which I’ve never been to before. I’m kind of a crybaby at the time — I’m afraid of the dark, and burglars, and vampires, and monsters, and zombies, and curses, and a whole host of other things — so when my brother, twelve years old, notices me reading a book of kids’ ghost stories about a girl who gets a haunted doll, he figures it’s an easy hit.)

Brother: “Hey, [My Name]. You know we’re going to a flea market, right? That’s where you buy old stuff, and old stuff is way more likely to be haunted! By ghosts!”

(He’s expecting me to cry, and try to persuade our parents to go home. Instead, to his bafflement, my eyes light up.)

Me: “There might be ghosts?! That’s so cool! I’d love to have a ghost! It could hang out with me, and keep watch at night so no other monsters sneak up on me, and we could do magic tricks together, and I could introduce it to my friends, and no other girls at school have a ghost! Do you really think there’ll be stuff with ghosts? How can I find one?!”

Dad: “I think that sounds cool, [My Name]. [Brother], since it was your idea, why don’t you help her look?”

Mom: “That’s a good idea; you can spend the day helping your little sister look for ghosts.”

Me: “Yaaaay! You’re the best brother ever! Let’s go find ghosts! I want a ghost friend!”

(And that’s how my too-cool-for-this brother spent the day going up to random vendors with his hyper-enthusiastic seven-year-old sister, asking if they had any ghosts or haunted stuff for sale. I didn’t get a pet ghost, much to my disappointment, but he mostly stopped trying to scare me after that!)

Saff-wrong

, , , , | Working | May 16, 2018

(I am a foreign tourist traveling in Sri Lanka. I am perusing the goods of a local spice vendor.)

Me: “How much is your saffron?”

Vendor: “For you, my friend, I’ll sell to you at [price that is similar to what I would normally pay in my home country].”

Me: “Aww, gee, I don’t think that’s going to work for me. And how come your saffron powder is so much cheaper than your saffron threads?”

(I point to a large jar full of orange-colored powder that is clearly marked, “SAFFRON,” with a price that is unrealistically low.)

Vendor: “Uh, well, you see, the reason it’s so cheap is because that’s actually turmeric. I keep the real stuff behind the counter.”

Me: “Thanks for your time.” *walks away*

(I appreciated that he was being honest with me, but that doesn’t make it okay to lie to other people!)

A Pear Of Puns

| USA | Working | May 18, 2017

(I work at a fruit market and a customer is making a scene.)

Coworker: “That’s just bananas! I wish someone would turnip the music to block that guy’s voice out!”

Me: “You’re fired.”

(I don’t do puns.)

All Things Are Not Sound

| Canada | Right | November 23, 2016

I work at a seasonal produce market that sells local fruits and vegetables as a cashier and grocery bagger. Today, a man and his wife came through with four bunches of garden carrots that still had the green tops on while I was on bagging duty. The tops of these carrots are usually all over the place, so to get them to fit nicely into our bags, we have to bend the leafy tops over.

The cashier hands me the bunches and I start putting them into the bags as usual. As I’m doing this, I hear a faint sound, which sort of resembles coughing and doesn’t really phase me.

As I go to put the last bunch in the bag, I hear a terrifying and loud screech that completely stuns me and the cashier I was working with. I look up to see the man staring at me very angrily.

It turns out he had a tracheostomy and could not speak whatsoever but was trying to tell me not to bend the carrot tops (hence the faint coughing noises).

The screeching sound was him screaming at me through his tracheostomy for not following his wishes, which he clearly could not get across.

Through all of this, his wife, who could communicate and understand her husband perfectly well, said nothing to indicate I was doing something they did not want.

That screeching sound will haunt my coworker and me forever.

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