Introduce A Fine For Non-Sign-Outs And See What Happens

, , , | Right | February 3, 2021

I work in an assisted living facility. On my desk in the front lobby is a computer for visitors to sign in and out. A man is leaving, taking his wife, who is a resident, to an appointment.

Visitor: “You can sign us out. Our ride is here.”

Me: “I can sign [Resident] out, but I need your phone number to sign you out.”

Visitor: “Oh, I don’t need to sign out.”

He flounces off out the door.

Me: “You… you do, actually.”

I sighed and went through the process of looking through our online files to find his phone number and signed his rude a** out.

I wish I could say this was the one and only time this happened. The man is in his fifties and seems sound of mind. I understand being in a hurry, too, but ten seconds to sign out like every other person is too much, I guess.

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The Best Smile Comes From Within

, , , , | Related | February 2, 2021

When I smile, my eyes tend to scrunch up more than the average person’s, to the point that if the rest of my face is completely covered, you can tell I’m smiling just by the scrunched eyes. I quite like this feature of mine, but as a child, it made getting family photos a nightmare. Why would something as simple as a smile turn a photo session into torture, you ask? Well, this conversation happened every time we tried to get photos for holiday cards, vacations, portraits, or anything else.

Mom: “Remember to smile!”

I smile a bright, genuine smile.

Mom: “Don’t close your eyes so much! We want to see them!”

I try to maintain the smile while widening my eyes.

Mom: “A real smile, not a fake smile!”

Every. Single. Time. It made me dread getting pictures taken or being on camera in general. The first photo session I ever truly enjoyed was for my high school senior photos, when my mother was forbidden from coming anywhere near me or the photographer, who happened to be my aunt. She didn’t say a word about it and I used my natural smile in those photos instead of trying to deliberately arrange my features into my mother’s ideal. The photos were fantastic.

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One Day When The Prayin’ Is Done, We’ll Take Our Leave And ROCK!

, , , , | Learning | January 29, 2021

I’m chatting with a classmate I don’t know very well and the talk turns to music.

Classmate: “So, what kind of music do you like?”

Me: *Nervous laugh* “It’s pretty weird.”

Classmate: “It can’t be that weird. Come on!”

Me: “I like sea shanties and just about anything Celtic, but my favorite band is Canadian Christian punk rock.”

He takes a moment to consider this.

Classmate: “Most of the time, when someone says they have weird taste in music, it’s not actually that weird, but yeah, that is out there.”

He was so curious as to what the punk rock band would sound like that I played him a snippet of one of their songs. I may have made him a punk rock convert.

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If Google Says So, It Must Be True, Part 2

, , , , | Right | January 20, 2021

It’s nearing the end of my shift and I’ve more than paid my dues dealing with stupid today. Then, I get this phone call.

Me: “[Business], this is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Caller: *Silence*

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Um… ah, yes… is this [Totally Different Unrelated Business]?”

Me: “No… this is [Business].

Caller: “Oh… well, Google says this is the number for [Other Business]. This isn’t [Other Business]?”

Me: “No, ma’am. This is [Business].”

Caller: “But… Google has this number for [Other Business].”

Me: “I’m sorry, that’s not us. Google does mess up sometimes.”

Caller: “But Google lists [phone number] for [Other Business]!”

Me: “I don’t know how that reached us; that’s not our number.”

Caller: “Google says this should be [Other Business], though!”

We continued in that vein for a good five or ten minutes. Google is a good search engine, but it’s not omnipotent! And how hard is it to just say, “Sorry, wrong number”?

Related:
If Google Says So, It Must Be True

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They’re Not Scouting For Trouble

, , , , | Right | January 17, 2021

I am an adult leader for Boy Scouts. Every year, we knock on doors in the neighborhoods surrounding the church building where we meet to pitch our flag fundraiser. Homeowners pay us a fee and we put up flags in their yards during several holidays throughout the year, and then we remove the flags and store them until the next holiday.

We put flyers on doors the week before and then the boys go out — in pairs accompanied by an adult leader — on Saturday mornings starting at 10:00 am. The boys are instructed to ring the doorbell and ask to sign people up. If no one answers, they leave another flyer on the door and move on to the next house.

I am in charge of the fundraiser, so my name and phone number are on the flyers in case of questions. I get a call from a number I don’t recognize at about 10:45 am on Saturday.

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: *Male voice, gruffly* “I have a question for you.”

Me: “Yes?”

Caller: “Why would I be interested in your fundraiser today if I wasn’t interested on Wednesday?”

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Caller: *Volume increasing* “You left a flyer on my door on Wednesday and I threw it away, but then you came again and rang my doorbell and left me another flyer today.”

Me: “Well, the first flyer was meant to give a short explanation of the fundraiser and to let people know we would be coming to sign people up this morni—”

Caller: *Cutting me off* “You came too early!”

Me: “Too early?”

Caller: “Yeah. You guys rang my doorbell and woke me up! Don’t you know that people like to sleep in on Saturdays?”

Me: “I’m sorry that the boys woke you up. We do purposefully wait to start ringing doorbells until ten because—”

Caller: *Cuts me off again* “That’s still too early! You woke me up! And you woke up my son, who’s sick and needs his sleep!”

I’m a little worried that the son has some kind of medical condition and we’ve caused a problem, so I pause.

Caller: “And I’m not the only one! I’m looking down the street at your boys and nobody is opening the door for them! Everybody’s asleep at this hour! I went out and told them to leave people alone because everybody is sleeping!”

Now I’m more concerned that he yelled at my boys, so I’m a little worked up.

Me: “I must ask you not to harass my boys! I assure you that plenty of people are awake and happy to talk to us at this hour. We’ve been doing this fundraiser for fifteen years and we’ve never had a complaint that this is too early.”

Caller: “What are you going to do for me?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Caller: “Your boys rang my doorbell and woke my son up! What are you going to do?”

Me: “I guess all I can do is apologize. I’m sorry. We certainly had no intention of waking anybody up or causing any problems. Honestly, though, we are probably not going to change our time next year on the basis of one complaint. Maybe you can give me your address for next year or you can put some indication on your door that you shouldn’t be disturbed if you—”

Caller: “But it’s too early! What do you think the police will have to say about this? Huh?”

Me: “If you want to talk to them, you know they can get in touch with me. But it sounds like we don’t have anything else to discuss. So once again, I’m sorry for waking up your son—”

Caller: “You woke me up, too!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, too. Goodbye.”

He never told me his address. When the groups returned, I found out which one had had some dude come out and yell at them. They said they rang the doorbell, waited about fifteen seconds, and then left the flier.

They were on to the next house when they heard the car from the first house screech backward out of the garage, not perfectly straight, so it slammed right into the other car in the same driveway. The boys and adult leader stopped and stared, and then the man got out and started yelling at them — an adult plus a seventeen-year-old and an eleven-year-old — to leave people alone because people were sleeping. He then turned around and stormed into his house… leaving the cars.

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