(The restaurant I work at sends out dishes as they’re ready instead of coursing out the food. As a result, a lot of plates are taken to tables by staff members other than the server for that particular table. This happens right after I’ve dropped off a plate and explained it fairly thoroughly.)
Customer: “How do I know if I ordered this?”
(I’m doing warm-ups with my cross country team. It should be noted that the cross country team has a rivalry with the football team. As we’re running by the football team’s practice, this happens.)
Football Coach: *sees the cross country team running by, turns to one of his athletes* “DON’T LET THOSE RUNNERS BEAT YOU. G**D*** IT, YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT I’LL DO IF THEY BEAT YOU!”
Entire Cross Country Team: *sprints as fast as we all can*
I am going down the steps from my porch and misstep, and end up breaking my leg in three places right near my ankle. It is a Friday night, so I can’t get an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon until Monday.
When I go in for my appointment, I first see a nurse assistant with a very unique name. We talk about how it happened and my medical history. And because I’m female, she asks when my last period was. It has been almost a year. I’m on continuous birth control, despite not being sexually active, because during that time of the month, my migraines and fibromyalgia get to the point where I can’t function. She then goes to get the doctor, and from the room she has taken us to, we hear an argument break out over “who cancelled the appointment of the broken ankle girl.” I still don’t see how that’s possible, considering we made that appointment only an hour earlier. I end up being seen by another doctor with more of a specialty in what I need, so it works out and I forget about the weirdness.
Fast forward a week to when I can finally have surgery. I’m in the hospital gown, have an IV in, and I’m being asked the same questions again and again: spell my name, what’s my birth date, etc. Finally the nurse looks at me funny and looks at my ankle splint — which has a ton of padding and is massive — and tells me, “I know it seems obvious, but I need you to tell me what you’re here for.” I tell her to fix my ankle. She nods and tells me that that nurse assistant — I remember her unique name — had put me down as coming in for a hysterectomy. I’m not sure if she was trying to — inaccurately — note in my file that I’d had one because I hadn’t had my period in a year, or somehow managed to screw up why I was seeing an orthopedic surgeon when I had three broken bones. But I guess that will forever be a mystery.
(I work as a manager in a high-end restaurant. During one shift I notice a woman has barely touched her rib-eye steak — our steaks are well-known at this establishment — so I approach their table.)
Me: “Hello, ma’am. I noticed you didn’t touch your rib-eye. Was everything okay?”
Customer: “I’m so sorry. Everything else was delicious, but I don’t like this rib-eye.”
Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am. We can make you something new, if you’d like. But I will certainly take this off the check for you.” *it’s a $30 steak* “May I ask what was wrong with it?”
Woman: “It was cooked just fine, but it was too tender and very fatty. I hate fat, and it’s all throughout it.”
(I facepalmed as I threw out this delicious-looking steak. Why did she order the rib-eye when it’s known for being tender, and one of the fattiest and most delicious cuts of steak?)
(I am a teacher.)
Me: *ending class* “Any other burning questions I can answer before you guys go?”
(One of my teens tries to be a smarta**.)
Teen: “Yeah, what’s the capital of Kansas?”
Me: “Topeka.”
Teen: *pause* “Oregon?”
Me: “Salem.”
(Goes through a few more.)
Teen: “Do you know all the state capitals?”
Me: “I used to, at least. We could keep going.”
(The teen tries a couple more, ending with Oklahoma.)
Me: “Oklahoma City.”
Teen: “Well, that one’s just lazy.”
This story is part of the Teacher Appreciation 2023 roundup!
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