Not Quite Married To The Idea Of Family Law

, , , , , | Legal | March 18, 2019

(At an engagement party, I overhear one guest asking another guest whether he is enjoying working as a lawyer.)

Lawyer: “It’s okay, but family law can be depressing. If your client isn’t planting the drugs in their ex’s shed, it’s their ex planting drugs in your client’s shed.”

You’re Gonna Crucify Them

, , , , , | Learning | March 10, 2019

(I am a high school teacher, and we had our swimming carnival the other day. The kids get really enthusiastic about their sports houses. They dress in their house colours and bring banners, decorations, and flags. I am supervising and walk past two boys in year seven playing with a flag. One boy is tapping the other one on his shoulders and shouting, “I crucify you!” That catches my attention, and I stop.)

Me: “Hey, boys. That’s a little morbid, don’t you think?”

Flag Boy: “What do you mean, miss?”

Me: “Do you know what it means to crucify someone?”

Boys: *blank looks*

Me: “Crucifying someone is when you nail someone to a piece of wood and hang them up until they die.”

Crucified Boy: “Oh!”

Me: “Crucifying someone is a bit of a dishonourable thing. It looks more like you’re trying to knight each other, like when the queen taps the shoulders of a brave soldier and makes them a ‘sir.’ That is a sign of honour.”

Boys: *comprehension slowly dawning*

Flag Boy: “Wait… I’ve been crucifying people all day!”

There Are No Holes In Your Reasons

, , , , , | Right | March 9, 2019

(It’s right at closing when a woman brings a pile of curtain fabrics from our discounted table; these are all marked as seconds. As my coworker is measuring they come across some holes in the fabric.)

Customer: “I don’t want those holes; cut that off and start measuring again.”

(Again, they come across some more holes. She makes him cut the fabric again and start a new measurement. There’s not enough for what she wants, so she makes the coworker go with her to bring back more fabrics. I have finally finished serving my last customer when I hear her telling the coworker that she wants her whole house done and wants all the curtains cut to size so he needs to call other stores for her. My coworker turns to me.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s after closing and all of our stores are now closed. We cannot call them now because they won’t answer.”

Customer: “Well, then, we’ll just see what’s here; he can go and look for what I want. I just need to call and find out the window sizes for the house, but the phone’s been busy.”

Me: “You don’t know the window sizes?”

Customer: “No, I’ll just wait until I find out.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to return tomorrow; it’s now too late to do this.”

Customer: “No, I’ll wait.”

Me: “No, you don’t understand. You are parked in the main car park, right?”

Customer: “Yes, so?”

Me: “The centre will completely shut down in a few minutes; the lights will be turned out and the alarm turned on which means you cannot get to the main car park safely. I’ll have to let you out our back door into the dock, and you’ll have to go down the stairs outside and around the whole building to get to the main car park. I don’t want you to have to do that; it’s dark out there and can be dangerous.”

(I don’t think she believes me, but I finally get her to agree to come back the next day, which she never does. I have just managed to pull the doors down and lock three of the doors from the outside before pulling down the final door when the lights in the mall go out. I padlock the final door from the inside.)

Coworker: “Wow, you cut that fine. I thought the alarm was going to beat you.”

(My coworker helps me quickly count the drawers before we finally leave, an hour later than we get paid for. As we drive out of the dock area we notice that there are a bunch of rough-looking men in the dark car park, hanging around the stairs leading from the dock.)

Coworker: “Oh, my God! That woman was lucky not to have to walk through them. I bet she thought you were lying to her just get rid of her.”

Me: “Yeah, I know, but $2-a-metre fabric is not worth putting anyone in danger for.”

“Just Say No” In The Adult World

, , , , | Friendly | March 2, 2019

(Where I work, when someone on staff has a birthday, we get all the kids together and share a cake. A coworker is a coeliac, while I am just gluten intolerant, so we generally never get any; even on my own birthday they forgot. But this is the worst.)

Coworker: “Hey, did you get any cake?”

Me: “Oh, no, thank you.”

Coworker: “You sure? We have heaps left! A little won’t hurt you!”

Me: “It will actually… I’m gluten intolerant, remember?”

Coworker: “It can’t be that bad! Just a little piece. I don’t want to throw it out.”

Me: “Well, it’s nice going in, but when it comes back out through both ends I really don’t enjoy it that much.”

Coworker: “Wow, that’s too much information. Geeze! I didn’t need to know that.”

Me: “I’m hoping it will get you to stop asking. I am easily tempted by food and it’s hard to say no.”

Coworker: “Then don’t say no!”

Me: “Please go away now.”

Bending Over Backward For Busybodies On The Bus

, , , , , | Friendly | March 1, 2019

(When I am fifteen, I am diagnosed with scoliosis, which requires some rather heavy physiotherapy. To prevent the condition from degenerating, I have to wear a back brace that wraps around my torso, paired with an undershirt to prevent it from chafing at my skin. It’s a surprisingly hot day, and after an entire day spent running errands, I am exhausted and soaked in sweat, and I can’t wait to get home so that I can take my brace off for a bit. I get on the bus and sit down on a priority seat. It should be noted that up, until now, nobody has had any issues with me sitting there.)  

Lady: “You shouldn’t be sitting there.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Lady: “Move. They’re for injured and disabled people. You shouldn’t be sitting there.”

Me: “Ma’am, I assure you that I have every right to sit there. Please leave me alone.”  

Lady: “Bulls***! You’re young and healthy. You can sit somewhere else. Now move!”  

(I’m getting fed up.)

Me: “You know what? Fine. You want proof so badly?”  

(I stand up, look right into her eyes, and rap as hard as I can on my brace twice through my shirt, loud enough for her to hear. She blanches, eyes widening. I then turn around and lift up a portion of my shirt, enough to reveal one of the three straps keeping my brace secured. I turn back around, tuck my shirt into place, and sit down.)  

Me: “I have to wear a brace because of my scoliosis. It’s hot out, and having to wear two extra layers doesn’t help. Now, can you please stop being a judgmental a**hole, and go mind your own d*** business?”  

(She shut up, sat down, and refused to look in my general direction for the rest of the ride.)

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