Un-beer-lievable Ignorance

, , , , | | Right | June 23, 2019

(I’m a bartender at a small bar that’s kind of a dive, but that has sixteen different beers on tap, eight of which change every month, none of which are any of the main brands people tend to know from commercials, etc. We also do not carry bottled beer. This happens at least once a day: a customer walks in, walks up to the bar, looks at all the taps and the menu above the taps which lists what they all are, then picks up a menu from the stand and looks it over for a few minutes.)

Customer: “What kind of beer do you have?” *alternatively, I get a lot of* “I’ll have a beer.”

Me: “O… kay. What kind of beer?”

Customer: “Just whatever’s on tap.”

Me: “We have sixteen kinds of beer on tap. You’ll have to be more specific? Is there any kind of beer that you like generally? Maybe I can push you into a certain direction there.”

Customer: “Actually, I’ll just have a bottle of Budweiser, thanks.”

Me: “We don’t actually have Budweiser, or any bottled beer for that matter, sorry!”

Customer: “Oh, okay, a bottle of Corona, then.”

Me: “Still don’t have bottles. No Corona, either…”

Customer: “Well, what kind of bar is this?! What do you have?”

(At this point, I usually step aside and gesticulate exaggeratedly at the row of sixteen taps behind me, wherein they either laugh or get angry and just say, “Give me a beer,” again.)

A Human Being Unreasonable

, , , , , | | Right | June 17, 2019

(The restaurant where I work is very popular and can be really crowded during lunch hour. Also, it is a small business and there are less than twenty seated places. My coworker has called off and I am the only waitress on the floor. Since most of the clients are regulars, they know the waiting can be long, so they are mostly patient and nice even though the line reaches outside. A woman decides she has had enough and cuts the entire line, grabs my arm — note that I have food plates in both hands and even on my arms — and yells at me:)

Customer: “WHY IS IT TAKING THIS LONG? I WANT TO BE SEATED NOW!”

Me: “Please, madam, be careful! Those plates are hot!”

Customer: “I don’t care; I want to be served!”

Me: “I am really sorry, madam, but you will have to wait in line.”

Customer: “NO! I don’t have to wait.”

Me: “Again, madam, I’m sorry, but all these people were here before you and therefore, you must wait. As you can see, we are incredibly busy.”

Customer: “I DON’T CARE! Do you know who I am?”

Other Customer: “I know who you are.”

Customer: “Finally! I—“

Other Customer: *without missing a beat* “You are a human being like everybody else. And decent human beings wait in line! So get back there!”

(The lady left in a huff. I couldn’t have said it better myself!)

These “Pros” Are Testing Mom’s Patience

, , , , , | | Learning | June 17, 2019

(I have a classic case of “can’t get up” this morning. I wake to my alarm only to turn it back off and fall right back asleep. I end up missing the first period but arrange to arrive in time to get into the second without problems, except I notice something strange as I get closer to the school. It’s the pause where everyone should be between classes, but no one is outside and there’s a lot of noise coming from inside. I check my usual doors — mostly glass — and it’s locked with big chains around the inner handle. I see no one there. I go around and find all the doors are locked but one, where a teacher is holding the door in front of a mass of students of every level. Since I usually get along well with this teacher, I knock. He barely cracks it open to shoot to me:)

Teacher: “You wanted to get out, so stay out! See if I care! You deal with the consequences!”

(And he slams the door shut again. I catch a friend’s eyes behind the teacher, and I make a gesture that says, “What the f*** is going on?!” to which she shakes her head and returns the confused gesture. Since no one will let me in, I go back home and call my mother to let her know the story. I include my oversleep as I know I will not be in trouble — it is not a habit of mine, just a genuine accident — and tell her that I have no idea what is going on, and that I was not allowed into the school. At the end of the day, Mom tells me about a phone call she got from the school while she was at work. I’m not sure who it was who called her, but their conversation went like this:)

School Person: “Madame [Mom]? I’m calling you about your daughter, [My Name].”

Mom: “Is it about what happened this morning?”

School Person: “Oh. So, you are aware of what she’s done?”

Mom: “Yes and no. What happened exactly?”

School Person: “Your daughter took part in an illegal student protest, inciting violence and delinquency! Do you have any idea what she’s facing? Unless you both collaborate with us and comply with the consequences we put in place, we’ll have to report her to the police. Do you want us to call the cops on you?”

Mom: “Excuse me?!”

School Person: *detaching every syllable* “Do. You. Want. Us. To. Call. The. Cops. On. You. Two?”

Mom: “You actually reached [Mom’s Full Name] at [Police Headquarters] in charge of underaged, morality, street gang, and drugs and narcotics-related crime. How can I help you?”

School Person: *deflating* “Oh, you… You are a police officer?”

Mom: “No, I’m a civilian but I’m in charge of the office of the commanding officer and all the guys of this section. I’m surrounded by cops. So, how may I help you?”

School Person: *realising they won’t scare or bully Mom into anything* “Huh… Well, you know, your daughter did something really bad here…”

Mom: “Stop right there.”

School Person: “Yes?”

Mom: “My daughter had no part in this mess you are talking about. She was just late, arriving for second period, and found herself locked out and dumbfounded. She went back home since no one would let her in. What did you expect her to do, hang by the door the whole day?”

School Person: *jumping at the opportunity* “Oh, she was late? Well, she should still be punished for skipping first period. “

Mom: “No, she was not skipping.”

School Person: “She… was not?”

Mom: “No, she was not. If I find out you’ve tried to put her in trouble, despite the fact that you guys f***ed up, I’ll come down to see you personally.”

(The next day, my friend told me some people tried to organise a protest, because there was talk about closing our school. Some of the older students actually managed to organize and plan one before, but all legally. It turned out that the school employee had orders to lock all the students in and then tried to excessively punish the students — involving their families and the law — who slipped out, took part in the protest or its “organisation,” or took the opportunity to make trouble in general. I just got innocently caught in the middle of this, without ever being aware of anything. Thanks, Mom, for fighting for my innocence.)

A Short-Lived Romance

, , , , , , | | Romantic | June 13, 2019

(This story happened to my father in the 70s, before cellphones and Internet. While going to university, he lived with three roommates; the first two were fairly regular guys, but the third one, well… He was a weird, eccentric guy, and a bit of an idiot. One night, my father and the weird roommate are the only ones at the apartment. My father comes out of his room to go to the kitchen and sees that the roommate is on the phone.)

Roommate: “Hi, can I speak to [Name]?” *pause* “A wrong number? Didn’t I call [Number]?”

(My father thinks nothing of it and goes back to his room. A few minutes later, he hears guitar playing and singing, so he goes to investigate. He comes out of his room and sees his roommate sitting on a bench, playing guitar, and singing with the phone lying on the counter, pointing towards him. Then, after two or three minutes of this, the roommate picks up the phone and talks a bit with the person on the other side, wishes them farewell, and hangs up.)

Father: “What was that all about? Why the heck were you playing guitar on a phone call?”

Roommate: “Oh, yeah! Funny story. I dialed the wrong number, and then I chatted a bit with the girl who answered the phone. We’re about the same age, and I asked her if she knew [Artist], and then I offered to sing one of their songs.”

Father: *incredulous* “And she said yes?”

Roommate: “Yes, of course! So, I sang to her, and she said she liked it.”

(My father starts thinking, “I can’t believe he actually found someone as crazy as himself!”)

Father: “So, when will you see her?”

Roommate: “What do you mean?”

Father: “Dude, if she lets you sing to her after you called a wrong number, surely she’s interested in you. Didn’t you ask for her number?”

Roommate: “Oh, I didn’t think about that.”

(And that’s how that weird roommate finally realized that he had managed to charm a complete stranger on a wrong phone number call, and ultimately screwed it up because he was so oblivious.)

Unfiltered Story #153730

, , | | Unfiltered | June 4, 2019

I’m the customer in this one. I had the bright idea to store my passport in the same pocket as my condoms. When I go to check in for my flight, I hand my passport to the attendant without noticing a condom snuck inside it. The attendant did notice it and glared at me telling me she’s not touching that. I quickly took bad and hid the condom and apologized and felt really stupid.

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