Cycle On To The Dealership

, , , | Right | June 3, 2018

(I work in a video game store that also has consoles that people can rent for the hour. Since the surrounding streets are a tad unsafe, my boss lets me keep my motorcycle inside the store, next to my work station. One day a man with a kid starts looking around the store and approaches me.)

Customer: “How much is the motorcycle?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: *points at my motorcycle* “That one. How much is it?”

Me: “It’s mine; I don’t sell it.”

Customer: “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s in the store; it must be for sale. How much?

Me: *giving up* “30,000 pesos.”

Customer: “What? That’s insane! In [Dealership], it’s only 14,000!”

Me: “May be a better idea to buy it there, then.”


, , , , , | | Working | May 26, 2018

My cousin is having a destination wedding in Mexico, and we’re all staying in the same resort. I am underage at this point, so I’m assigned with the task of watching over my brother who’s been drinking. He ends up getting way more drunk than I have ever seen him, before or since. My brother, mother, father, and I are all in the same room. My brother is so drunk that he’s wrapped himself around the toilet and refuses to move. It’s around this time our ceiling starts leaking.

My dad dreads calling the front desk, since they have been nothing but a pain the whole time. They’ve been trying to force my parents into a timeshare meeting, and pushing upgrades we don’t want. They also have a habit of disappearing whenever we need help. My dad reluctantly decides to call after a couple of puddles start forming. The front desk starts asking if we would like to upgrade for an additional cost, and my dad keeps telling them he just wants to switch rooms. They then tell him they only have upgrades available, and they will waive the cost if he goes to the timeshare meeting. Being exhausted and just wanting a dry place to sleep, my dad agrees.

We are all woken up around two am to change our room. My brother is still passed out in the bathroom, and we can’t open the door to get him out. It takes him quite a while to figure out how to stand up and get out of the bathroom, and at this point the man from the front desk is fairly annoyed. We all pack up and start on our journey down the hall. We’re not even two doors down from our room when my brother spots a trash can, and immediately makes a run for it and makes a disgustingly loud display of getting sick. The front desk attendant is mortified and just tries to move things along. My brother stops at every single trash can he can find to repeat his display. I eventually can’t help but laugh, and this irritates the front desk attendant even more.

Finally we make it to the end of the very long hallway and to the final hurdle: the elevator. My brother immediately goes pale and starts shaking his head, but we have no idea where we’re going, so we have to follow the attendant. We end up going up three stories, and we are all deadly silent, just waiting for the inevitable moment. Somehow, my brother holds out, and as soon as the door opens he expels into the trash can waiting outside the elevator. The front desk attendant is now shaking with anger, but still says nothing. We finally manage to get to our room, my brother curls around the toilet, my dad tips the man, and all is good.

The next morning, my dad goes to the front desk to discuss the timeshare meeting. He is then told that all fees have been waived, but he can still go to the timeshare to get credit for the gift shop, which he decides to do, anyway, since he had planned around it. He also asks if they discovered the cause of the leak in our ceiling. Turns out the girls above us got wasted, ran their jacuzzi, and then fell asleep. The jacuzzi flooded their room and leaked down to us. They then let him know, with quite a bit of disdain, that the girls above us happened to be the maid of honor and a couple bridesmaids from our party. They were my cousins. Turns out none of my family can hold their liquor, but the hotel staff didn’t bother us anymore.


, , , , , | Friendly | May 11, 2018

(My dad and I are staying with a friend of his, whose daughter recently had a baby. We are all sitting in the kitchen, while she bounces her son on her lap. At one point she moves a bit farther to the left than she meant to, and SLAMS her elbow onto the edge of the table. She freezes, her eyes bug out, and her jaw drops.)

Me: “Why don’t I hold onto him for a minute?”

(She wordlessly handed me her baby, eyes watering, then doubled over, clutching her elbow.)

The Bad News Keeps Carrying On

, , , | Working | May 9, 2018

(My family and I have just finished a beautiful two-week trip and have bought a lot of ceramic plates, figures, and vases from all the towns we visited. We have had to take two plane trips inside the country, but this is the last plane back home to ours. My family is pretty well-travelled, and we always pride ourselves in our packing skills and never letting anything break, spending literally HOURS packing each suitcase the day before we travel. We are at the counter checking in our luggage when I suddenly hear the attendant next to me explaining to somebody else that they can’t take ceramics into their carry-on. I immediately turn and ask her to repeat herself. As usual, we have the most fragile items on our carry-ons, and that includes big ceramic skulls, three gigantic vases, and one head-sized apple sculpture. We confirm at security that, indeed, they do not allow it, as it is viewed as a blunt object too dangerous for the plane crew. The rule was not what made me angry, but the fact that it was never told to us, nor was it written anywhere I could see at the airport.)

Attendant: “I was going to to tell you in just a minute.”

Me: “Yes, thank you. But telling me now makes little difference to me, since now I need to take everything out of my suitcase and try to fit all this in, in a lot less time than I had at the hotel.”

(The worst part was when we got inside the airport and the stores were selling… guess what? Ceramics. And those could go inside your carry-on.)

Unfiltered Story #108913

| Unfiltered | April 11, 2018

(I’m a woman at a restaurant. I head towards the restroom but before I can reach for the door, a man comes out and looks at me in surprise. We both turn to see the sign on the door.)

Me: This is the ladies’ room.

Man: (Facepalming and red in the face) And that’s why I shouldn’t leave home without my glasses.

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