Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

Reading Is Life

, , , , , , | Friendly | April 4, 2022

I was a REALLY bookish kid. When my mom had the time to take me to the public library, I’d load up on all the books I could physically carry, read them all in a week, and then reread the best ones until they had to be returned.

One day, as I was reaching up to put all my books in the return slot under my mother’s watchful eye, a friendly old lady stopped by us and chatted a little with my mom before I finished and she turned to me.

Old Lady: “You just really like reading, huh?”

Me: “Yeah!”

Old Lady: “What would you do if you couldn’t read?”

I thought about it. I liked drawing but got bored with it pretty quickly. I couldn’t bring toys to school, so I couldn’t play during recess instead of reading a book. There was only so long I was allowed to play video games for. I genuinely could not imagine what kind of fun I could have for very long without books. Thus, I came to a conclusion of what I would do if I couldn’t read.

Me: “Die?”

My mother very quickly got us out of that conversation and pushed me into the main library. I’m sure she was a little shocked and heartily embarrassed, but once I got older and developed a dark sense of humor, I thought it was hilarious.

Totally Estúpido! Part 20

, , , , , | Right | April 4, 2022

My college Spanish professor told my class this story in my freshman year. She was in the checkout line at the grocery store, buying tortillas, beans, and a few other staples of Latin-American cuisine, which did not go unnoticed by the man behind her.

Husband: *In Spanish* “She’s taking our food!”

Wife: *Also in Spanish* “It would be better if you didn’t talk.”

Husband: “Look at what she’s buying! That’s our food!”

Wife: “Shut up.”

Husband: “But it’s our food!”

Wife: “Shut up!”

At this point, my professor was done with her transaction, and she turned back to the couple.

Professor: *In perfect Spanish* “Actually, my husband is Guatemalan, so this is our food too.”

The husband turned bright red after getting over his shock that my obviously-not-Latina professor could speak Spanish. The wife nodded approvingly and presumably treated her husband to a rousing “I told you so” lecture.

Totally Estúpido! Part 19
Totally Estúpido! Part 18
Totally Estúpido! Part 17
Totally Estúpido! Part 16
Totally Estúpido! Part 15

Registering Your Customers

, , , , , | Right | April 1, 2022

I work in a concessions stand. Our registers are older than most of our workers, and between them, a lot of brand-new workers, and a credit card reader that registers transactions at a glacial pace, our lines are getting backed up.

Me: “Sorry about the wait. Our registers are old and pretty slow.”

Customer: *Laughs* “Sounds like me.”

Me: “I dare say you function better than the registers!”

Customer: “I should certainly hope so!”

Not Banking On You Living Up To Your Threat

, , , , | Right | March 30, 2022

I work as an agent in a call center for a bank. It is the second to last day of an extremely hectic week. All week, we’ve been having problems: phones are down, systems are crashing, phone lines are cutting out randomly — you name it, it’s happened. Everyone is a little on edge as a result, and this especially holds true for our customers.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Bank]. My name is [My Name]. May I have your name, please?”

The customer is slurring heavily.

Customer: “Yeah, hi, my name is [Customer] and I’m calling because I have a question about my card.”

Me: “I’d be more than happy to help with that, [Customer]. May I have your account number?”

Customer: “I don’t have an account number; it’s a [Card Company] debit card!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t actually deal with those, but I can get you over to the right department to help you with that! Is it okay if I put you on hold while I transfer you?”

Customer: “I got this card from [Bank] and this is the number it said to call! Don’t transfer me, you…” *descends into insults*

The customer goes on a slurred rant while I try to convince him to let me transfer him because, technically, we have to get permission from the customer to put them on hold before we transfer. He adamantly refuses and calls me a female dog a few times, and at one point, I’m able to pick out the phrase, “want to come through the phone and kill you.”

I give him one warning.

Me: “Sir, I am trying to help. If you continue this abusive language, I will disconnect the call.”

He says something about how he doesn’t believe I’m going to do it and calls me some names one more time.

Me: “Sir, I will now be disconnecting this call. Thank you.”

I hung up the phone. I spent ten minutes trying to get my hands to stop shaking before taking another call, and that “man” managed to put a damper on the rest of my day. Just another day in customer service paradise!

Check Out The Cajones On This Team!

, , , , , , | Working | March 29, 2022

When I was in middle school, my church worship team was invited to perform a set at a downtown music festival. As expected, our leaders had to tell the organizers what instruments and equipment we had so the techs could properly hook us up.

Enter me, the percussionist. We already had a drummer on a kit, but I kept the beat and played whatever other instrument had to be played. Maracas? My job. Bongos? No problem. Slamming chains on an upside-down metal washbin? Loved it.

But my main instrument was the weird hippie stepchild of the percussion family: the cajon. It was basically a drum that you sat on to play. If not for the instrument company logo on the front, you’d think it was some sort of alternative-style chair. To play it, I had to sit with my legs apart, lean forward, and slap the panel for every beat. Weird as it was, it was a necessary component.

When we got to the festival, everyone else was getting hooked up. Absolutely no one was paying a shred of attention to me, but I was used to it and just trying to stay out of the way of everyone who had more finicky instruments and equipment.

While the announcers kept the crowd entertained, radio host style, we started filing out onstage. Everyone else set up, I carried my cajon onstage, put it down, and sat in preparation to play.

Cue an extremely flustered tech running onstage after me. Utterly confused as to why he was heading for me and not one of the guitarists or vocalists, I really didn’t say anything.

Tech: “You have a cajon? Nobody told me we had a cajon!”

He set up a mic where it would best pick up my cajon. That was the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone set up a microphone, even if he was muttering about how “Nobody told me there was a cajon!” the whole time.