You Don’t Want To Sit On The Stool Today

, , , , , | Working | September 6, 2018

(While working at a popular fast food restaurant, I am assigned to work Booth — first drive-thru window — for the shift. Booth is responsible for cleaning the lobby and bathrooms in between cars. After taking an order, I get told over the headset that there is an “emergency” in the men’s room, and head out to deal with it. On my way, I run into the manager who has just gotten on shift.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], how are you?”

Me: “Um… I think I’m going to wait to answer that until I find out what an ’emergency in the men’s room’ means.”

(A couple of my coworkers overhear this, and decide to find out themselves what that means. Just then I get a beep that another car has arrived, and head back to the booth to take the order. While I’m in there, I hear my coworkers SCREAMING in horror. Quick note about the layout of this store: the booth is in the corner of the lobby, and the hallway to the bathrooms is on the opposite corner. So, I could hear them from down the hall, around two corners, across the lobby, and through the very heavy door of my booth. After finishing with the order, I head back out, where my manager is heading towards the bathrooms with a garbage bag and roll of paper towels.)

Manager: “Go back to Booth.”

Me: “But aren’t I—”

Manager: “NO! Go back to Booth!”

(I later saw him exiting the bathrooms carrying the garbage bag, completely full of dirty paper towels. I later heard from my coworkers that it was diarrhea… all over the floor.)

Has ID, Still No Idea

, , , , , , | Working | April 20, 2018

A few years ago, I had my name legally changed, only keeping my last name. Shortly after, I went to the liquor store. Since I’d only become legal the year before, the cashier did their duty and carded me. I presented my two pieces of ID, bought my beer, and went home.

Later, I was going through my wallet and realized I had accidentally put in my old medical card instead of my new one. So, I had presented two pieces of ID with two completely different names, and the cashier hadn’t batted an eye.

Related:
Has ID, Has An Idea

Slapped Some Sense Into You

, , , , , , , | Related | March 7, 2018

I am maybe four-ish when this happens, so I don’t remember it, but I’ve been told the story secondhand.

My mom’s car starts to break down on the highway. It lasts just long enough for her to safely pull into the parking lot of a defunct restaurant, but then she has the problem of needing to call for help. These are pre-cell-phone days, so the closest phone is at the gas station across the street. She decides that, instead of herding us across such a busy intersection, and trying to control us while tethered to a payphone, she will leave us in the car. She instructs my eight-year-old brother that he is in charge for the next ten minutes, and makes it very clear that under no circumstances are either of us to leave the car.

She runs across the street, calls my dad for help, and comes back as fast as she can. At some point I must have tried to follow her, because when she comes back she finds me pouting in the back seat with a bright red handprint on my face.

Many years later, I tell this story to my Nana, and she immediately goes to defend my brother with, “Oh, I’m sure he was just scared…” I have to reassure her that, no, I do not harbor any ill will towards him for that at all; I would much prefer being slapped in the face to being flattened by a truck.

Keeping Him Rice And Happy

, , , , | Romantic | January 12, 2018

(This is a story from my grandmother. When she marries my grandfather, in the late 1940s, she asks him about all the foods he likes so she can make them for him. She asks him if he likes rice, and he says he does. So one meal, she makes chicken and rice.)

Grandad: “Rice? No potatoes?”

Nana: “But you said you liked rice!”

Grandad: “I meant rice pudding!”

(For the next sixty years she always made meat dishes with potatoes. After he died, she had rice with her chicken.)

All Fired Up About The Child-Lock

, , , , | Friendly | September 2, 2017

(I am hanging out with a friend, about to smoke, and he hands me a lighter. It has a child-lock on it, and when I buy lighters, the first thing I do is rip the lock off.)

Me: “Aw, man, you keep the child-lock on them?”

Friend: “Yeah… because we have a CHILD.”

Me: “Oh, right… that is an excellent point.”

(Every other time we hung out, we ended up having to do a lighter exchange, because somehow I’d end up with his girlfriend’s pink lighters and he’d end up with my child-lock-less lighters.)

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