A Portal Into Your Humor

, , , , , , | Working | October 31, 2019

A coworker brought a Halloween cake in this year. It had orange frosting and was decorated like a jack-o-lantern with a mouth and eyes. When the cake was almost gone, the only thing left was one of the eyes. Our youngest coworker took the piece around to everyone saying, “The cake is an eye!”

Considering the age of most of our coworkers, I doubt anyone besides me got it.

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It Means The Same Thing In French

, , , , , | Right | October 28, 2019

(I’m a DJ working at a night club. I am white and the man that approaches me is black.)

Customer: “Do you have that Jay-Z and… uh, who else is in that song?”

Me: *hoping he isn’t talking about the song I’m thinking of* “Uh… Kanye West?”

Customer: “YEAH! YEAH! What’s the name of that one?”

Me: “Uh… the Paris one?”

Customer: “Yeah, but I don’t think that’s the full name.”

Me: “I don’t think I can tell you the full name.”

Customer: “Hold on. Let me go ask my buddy.” *walks away and returns shortly after* “Here’s a 20$ for putting you in that situation.”

(The song he was talking about was “N**** In Paris” by Jay-Z and Kanye West.)

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Unfiltered Story #167613

, , , | Unfiltered | September 21, 2019

(My family and I just landed from a 7 hour flight at 3 am. We decide that we’re too tired and hungry to drive the 4 hours home that night, and stay at a hotel. After dropping my mom and little brother off to our room, my dad and I go searching for some food. We all have a religiously strict vegetarian diet, and every restaurant we try that fits our diet is closed. Having no other choice, we stop at a drive-thru of a fast food restaurant that is famous for their selection of meats.)

Employee: Welcome to [restaurant]. Can I take your order?

Dad: Yeah, hi! Do you guys have any vegetarian meals?

Employee: Sorry, sir. We do not.

Dad: *sighs in surrender* Alright. Can we just have 4 large fries and 4 medium cokes please?

Employee: Sure thing! That will be [price] at the second window.

(My dad pulls up to the window and hands the employee some cash.)

Employee: They’re making some fries fresh for your daughter and you now.

Dad: Thank you. Hey, can you please make sure the boxes are filled up with as many fries as possible? We’re starving, and we couldn’t find any other place that was opened or worked with our diet.

Employee: Yeah, man, I’ll fill it up for you. Don’t worry.

(At this point my dad decided to tip the employee for helping us out. He caught the man’s attention through the window and held out $10.)

Dad: Here, man, take this. Thanks for the help.

Employee: *genuinely* No, man, no. I got you. No thank you. I got you.

Dad: *smiling* Alright, thanks again.

(A few minutes later the employee comes out with a bag full of fries and condiments. My dad shook his hand.)

Dad: Thanks so much, man. Thank you.

(As we start to drive away, I’m grinning and my dad’s shaking his head.)

Dad: *chuckling* He was a good man.

(Every little kindness counts! This wasn’t that big of a deal, but we were so tired and those extra fries really helped us out that day. This taught me to help out whenever I possibly can, without expecting anything in return. Thank you to that fast food restaurant employee who helped us and made me realize that important lesson.)

Those Who Fling Won’t Go Far

, , , , , , , | Right | July 16, 2019

(It is the mid-1990s, and I’m working at a fast food restaurant with an order-by-number value menu. Towards the tail end of an unusually busy lunch rush, a woman comes into the lobby. She waits very impatiently in line for the two people in front of her, and when she finally gets to the front of the line, she says:)

Customer: “Two. Coke. Hurry.”

(I press the buttons on the touchscreen till to order her a #2 meal with a Coke, but before I have a chance to say anything to her, she pulls a credit card out of her purse and flings it at me. The card misses me, flies past me, and lands in the tray of the shake dispenser, slipping into the thin metal grate and down into the mess of milky, sugary muck below. I stare at it for a moment before slowly turning back to the customer.)

Me: “That’ll be $3.21. Would you like that for here or to go?”

(I notice that she’s still staring at the spot where her card disappeared.)

Me: “Ma’am? For here or to go?”

Customer: *still staring*

Me: *a bit louder* “Ma’am!”

Customer: *finally looks back at me* “Um… to go.”

(I push the To-Go button, which finishes sending the order back to the kitchen.)

Me: “That’ll be $3.21.”

(She reaches into her purse, pulls out a $5 bill, and very carefully sets it on the counter in front of me. I hand her the $1.79 in change along with the cup for her drink. Since there are no customers waiting, I step away from the till to get ready to assemble her order. When I hand her the bag a minute or so later, she is still staring at the shake machine’s drip tray.)

Me: *handing her the bag* “Have a nice day.”

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Not Too Chicken To Call Them Out On Their Chicken

, , , , , , , | Working | June 21, 2019

(I decide to try out a new restaurant that just opened a few days ago a couple of blocks from my apartment. After taking a look at their menu, I order a buffalo chicken sandwich. Despite the place not being at all busy, it takes about fifteen minutes for my food to be delivered to my table. When I cut my sandwich in half, I discover that the chicken breast is still raw in the middle. I flag down the server and show her the sandwich, and she takes the plate back into the kitchen to be remade. This time, it takes about 20 minutes for me to get my food, and it is delivered by the manager, who apologizes for the inconvenience. After he leaves the table, I cut open the sandwich and it is even rawer than the first one they made. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the sandwich. The manager notices what I am doing and comes over.)

Manager: “Is there something wrong?”

Me: “Take a look for yourself.” *turns the plate so he can see the raw chicken*

Manager: “Oh, I’m so sorry. Let me get that fixed for you right away.”

Me: “No, thanks. At this point, I’m not going to eat anything that comes out of this kitchen. I’ll get my lunch elsewhere.”

Manager: “Okay, I’ll be right back with your bill.”

Me: “My bill?”

Manager: “Yes, it’ll just be a moment.”

Me: *standing up to leave* “I’m not paying you for raw chicken.”

Manager: *as I’m leaving* “Then I’ll have to call the police.”

Me: “Go ahead and do that if you feel you need to. I’ll be over at [Old Restaurant].”

(About half an hour later, I was just finishing my lunch at the second restaurant when a police officer came in and asked if I’d been at [New Restaurant] that morning. I told her that I had, explained what had happened, and showed her the picture I’d taken of the raw sandwich. I gave her my name, address, and phone number for her report and she left. A couple of weeks later, I was walking past [New Restaurant] and I saw a sign on the front door: “Closed by order of City Health Inspector.” They never reopened.)

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