CONTENT WARNING: Blood, Childbirth Procedures

I’m soon to be a granddad for the first time as my son is having his first child, and it reminded me of when my first child was born way back. My wife and I did all the childbirth classes, practiced the panting and coaching stuff, and we were feeling good. She was excited just to get the da***ed thing out of her at the end! We had done all the reading and preparation we could. Then, as it happens, D-Day arrived when her water broke at about 4:30 in the morning. No problem; we grabbed her go-bag and headed to the hospital, and we were calm and ready.

It was a hard labour. Contractions started and stopped, she had severe pain (back labour, they called it) and little dilation, and she was not having a good day. Finally, after being induced and getting an epidural, the show started close to midnight. We were in the delivery room, and our doctor asked her if it was okay if an intern — I think that’s what she was — observed. My wife was a medical professional and agreed, though at this point I think she didn’t give a s*** other than wanting the ordeal to be over.

The baby was born, and the doctor asked if I wanted to cut the cord. I declined. He put some plastic ratchet clamp things on and cut it. (It’s not a quick snip like in the movies; it’s tough tissue that crunches as it’s slowly cut through.)

The baby was taken by a nurse for the tests, and my wife was laying there, exhausted, with the rest of the cord still going up into her and attached to the placenta, which essentially had to be “delivered” still. I was hugging her and telling her how much I loved her and what a great job she’d done when the intern stepped in, took the clamp attached to my wife’s end of the cord, and released it.

If you have ever seen the loose end of a garden hose whip around when it’s under pressure, you have some idea of what happened, except it was blood being sprayed everywhere. The poor intern tried to grab the end but she just couldn’t. The doctor stepped in, caught it, and put the clamp back on in a matter of seconds.

I was standing there, sprayed with blood, and I’m sure my eyes were as large as saucers (as were the intern’s). This was not in the childbirth videos we’d watched in the classes.

I remember squeaking in a frantic voice, “Is that supposed to happen?” The doctor said not to worry, but I heard him say quietly to the intern, “I’ll talk to you later.”

The baby was fine, and Mother was fine (she was so drained she didn’t remember the hose incident at all), but I would love to have been a fly on the wall when the doctor had his talk with the intern.

If there’s a moral to the story, I guess it’s that if you’re a noob thinking, “What would happen if I do this?” it’s maybe best to ask first.

I’m happy with the outcome: a great son and a strangely funny story.

Our office is hiring, and one of the new hires is an INCREDIBLY good-looking man. (Think Chris Hemsworth from the 2016 “Ghostbusters” or Jason Momoa on the Aquaman movie poster.) All the ladies and 99% of the guys have an insta-crush.

By the time he’s seated at his desk, we have an email from Human Resources in the inbox.

Human Resources: “Do not attempt to flirt with [New Hire]. He is in a happy, stable relationship.”

I’m friends with the lead HR person, so I go over and ask about the email. We didn’t get any warnings like that for any of the other new hires.

HR Lead: “He made it a condition of us hiring him that we would send the email. Since he’s highly qualified, and that seemed a reasonable request, we agreed to do it.” 

The new hire is indeed very highly qualified. I quickly notice something unusual: he only communicates with other coworkers via email. We do use email for work-related stuff (it leaves a paper trail) but most of the rest of us will socialize in the break room, talking about nonwork stuff. [New Hire] steadfastly refuses to socialize; he’ll bring a book and on breaks, he’ll bury his face in it reading.

One day, [New Hire] and I end up leaving about half an hour late. (We both independently have tasks that run long. We do get paid for the extra time.) Once we both step out the door, I ask him about the books.

Me: “Do you just really love reading?”

New Hire: “I tried socializing at my last workplace. It caused so many problems. The people I didn’t talk to were envious of the people who did talk to me, and the atmosphere grew toxic. That’s actually why I switched jobs. So, now I simply don’t talk to anyone, so no one can get envious.”

Me: “Oh… Wow.”

I think it’s a brilliant solution.

It’s my first month cooking on the line in a high-end restaurant, and the kitchen is in hellfire mode getting ready for a huge banquet. It’s crazy high pressure, and I am frantically trying to do every little thing asked of me regardless of whether I know how to do it or not.

My shift is almost over when our chef tells me:

Chef: “Go get the canned air.”

Me: “What is canned air? Like the kind I use to clean my keyboard?”

Chef: “Just go get it.”

I started running around looking for it. They kept sending me to different places, and soon I realized that I was the butt of a joke, but I kept looking… because I realized I was on overtime and this joke was profitable.

I’d made an extra $50 by the time they realized that I had realized.

Everyone loves a good old-fashioned prank, right? …right? Check out more silly pranks with our roundup: 11 Hilarious Stories About Pranks – Happy April Fool’s Day!

I am at a chain grocery store one day. The uniform of the store is a green polo shirt with the store’s yellow logo on the right breast. I am wearing a polo shirt from the local soccer club, green with a gold logo on the left breast. A woman comes up to me.

Customer: “Can you help me with—”

She sees that I don’t have the store logo on my shirt.

Customer: “Oh, wait. I’m sorry, you don’t work here.”

Me: “Actually, I do work here. It’s my first day, and I didn’t know if they had my uniform, so I wore this shirt to blend in.”

She laughed, and I helped load her cart. My manager came by with my uniform shirt and was very impressed.

Mr. Stephen, you may pun at will.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 46
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 45
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 44
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 43
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 42

After getting a new batch of employees for our convenience store/gas station kitchen a few months ago, the Food Service Manager started putting up signs for the new hires — things like “Make sure the warming cabinet is empty at the end of the night.” Among these signs:

Sign: “If you s*** in the mop station, you get to clean it up.”

I did not ask about that.