You Just Got Owned

, , , , | Right | August 24, 2017

(We’re a small business, so we often get calls from people thinking we need certain services. Particularly small businesses are targeted by entry level sales people and college students looking for work. One thing the owner has us do to screen for these is ask anybody who asks for the owner if they actually know his name.)

Caller: “Is the owner there?”

Me: “Possibly. Who’s calling?”

Caller: “Yes, I need to talk to the OWNER.”

Me: “I heard you the first time. Are you able to tell me what this is about?”

Caller: “It’s about his business.”

Me: “That’s too vague. Can you tell me the name of him or her so I know there’s an established business relationship already?”

Caller: *louder for some reason* “OWNER. I need the owner.”

Me: “I need to know who you are first.”

Caller: “Oh. Hi, Mr. [Business name ending in the word Rental, not the owner’s last name]. You should get more helpful people to answer the phone.”

Y, What Were You Thinking?

, , , , , | Learning | August 23, 2017

(My AP World History teacher is starting to teach my class how to appropriately respond to our DBQs (Document-Based Question). Specifically, he wants us to be able to give evidence in our writing. To simplify this task in our heads, he cites an example using his gender.)

Teacher: “For example; if I wanted to say I was a male. I would say something like “’I am a male because I have…”

Class: *stunned silence*

Teacher: “…a Y chromosome.’”

Class: *sigh of relief*

That’s Still More Than Trump Gives Back

, , , , | Right | August 11, 2017

(I work at a popular restaurant in Las Vegas. We get a diverse group of people from different cultural and political backgrounds. This particular day is like any other, until this exchange occurs:)

Customer: *wearing a ‘Make America Great Again’ hat* “I’m only going to give you a 10% tip because you didn’t do a great job.”

Me: “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Customer: “Oh, no, no, not at all. You were fine; you just weren’t great. Have a nice day!”

Me: “All right, we’ll see you next time.” *quietly, to myself* “Next time I’ll make table-side service great again…”

A Bad Case Of The Churls

, , , | Related | August 10, 2017

(My mom is admitted to the hospital for what turns out to be pneumonia with two collapsed lungs, among other complications. She’s required to wear an oxygen mask, but because she’s delirious, she keeps trying to take it off. Meanwhile, I’m constantly forcing her to keep it on. She’s quite irritable, and I’m very tired from babysitting her. One of our interactions went something like this:)

Mom: “Where are my clothes?”

Me: “You’re in the hospital, Mom. You don’t need your clothes.”

Mom: “Don’t you have any sense of decency?!”

Me: “None of the patients have decency in the hospital. Everyone wears gowns.”

Mom: *removing her mask* “I’m pissed off at you right now.”

Me: *snatching it back up and holding it to her face* “You have to keep that on.”

Mom: “[My Name], if you say that one more time…”

Me: “I have to; you keep taking it off!”

Mom: *glaring at me hard* “You’re churlish!”

(I’m very amused by her “churlish” comment and relay it to my family later. Afterwards, my mom is sedated for a few weeks, and my family takes shifts at the hospital to watch her. When she regains consciousness, she says she loves me; it’s a very touching moment. I return home and tell my family how she’s doing.)

Me: “And she said she loves me.”

Brother: “No, she doesn’t, you churl.”

(When my mom’s better, we tell her about the “churlish” comment as well.)

Mom: “I don’t even know what that word means!”

Obviously… That Teacher Just Sucks

, , , , | Learning | August 6, 2017

(My high school math teacher is sour and never smiles. Her classroom is on the top floor of the building, and art classes are on the bottom floor. After school one day, I see her waiting outside my art classroom. I think that she dislikes me quite a bit more than her other students, so I try to make a better impression on her with pleasant small talk.)

Me: *smiling* “Hi, Mrs. [Teacher]. Are you waiting for [Teacher’s daughter]? She’s still in there?”

Teacher: *with venom* “Of course! Why else would I be down here?!”

(She never reproached me like that in the classroom, so I clam up in shock. Luckily, her daughter comes out at that moment, and the teacher grumbles at her for making her wait. I watch them walk away.)

Teacher’s Daughter: “Why are we going back upstairs?”

Teacher: *with the same venom* “I left my purse in the classroom! Isn’t it obvious?!”

(I realized then that I wasn’t a special case!)

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