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Slidering Right Into A New Friendship

, , , , , , , | Friendly | January 6, 2020

(I’m about 12 years old. I am a victim of bullying, and all my friends have ditched me. After a particularly rough day, I am visually upset, and I decide to stop by a burger joint on my way home from school.)

Me: “How much is a slider?”

Employee #1: “$2.06.”

Me: “I only have t-two dollars.”

Employee #1: “That’s okay. Are you feeling all right? What’s the matter?”

Me: “My friends aren’t v-very nice p-people. And I’m-m being b-bullied at school.”

Employee #2: *handing me a cup*

Me: “Oh, sir, I think you m-misheard-d me.”

Employee #2: “It’s okay. The soda machine is over there.”

Me: “Thank you, thank you!”

Cook: “Do you like cheese on your burger?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

(I fill my cup with soda and return to the cashier to pick up my burger)

Employee #1: *handing me a bag* “Here’s some ketchup.”

(I look inside the bag and there are two burgers in there!)

Me: “Ma’am, there are two burgers in here.”

Employee #2: “Our treat. Things will get better, I promise.”

Cook: “Those people are not your friends. I’ll be your new friend. I’ll be new… What do people call it today? I’ll be ‘bae.’ If you ever want to talk to someone, come in and ask for [Cook].”

Me: *laughing, for the first time in a week* “Thank you guys so, so, so much.”

Employee #1: “Do you live far away? Should I walk with you?”

Me: “No, no, it’s okay. I just live a few blocks away.”

Employee #1: “Come back any time. We’re here.”

Employee #2: *picking up a broom, swinging it around in the air* “That’s what happens if people hurt you again. I’ll break them to pieces.”

(I’m laughing hard by now. The employees look really pleased.)

Me: “Thank you guys so much. I really appreciate it. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Cook: “keep me updated!”

Employee #2: “Yeah, we want the juice!”

A Healthy Marriage

, , , , , , | Romantic | October 10, 2019

([Doctor #1] and [Doctor #2] are married. [Doctor #1] is a neurosurgeon and [Doctor #2] works in the NICU. They’ve made a cake for a coworker’s birthday.)

Doctor #2: “Can we write anything better than just, ‘Happy Birthday, [Coworker]!’ on the cake?”

Doctor #1: You have doctor handwriting and can’t write anything on the cake.”

Doctor #2: “You’re also a doctor!”

Doctor #1: *jokingly* “Excuse me. Neurosurgery is the calligraphy of medicine. These hands are the surgeon’s hands! Artist’s hands!”

Doctor #2: *laughing* “Okay, Dr. Artist, go ahead.”

([Doctor #1] grabs the frosting and accidentally leans on the tray the cake is sitting on. The tray scoots backward and he grabs it to stop it from falling off the counter, but he misjudges the weight and pulls it off the counter towards him. Instinct kicks in and he tries to catch it with his foot but ends up punting it directly into a wall.)

Doctor #2: *sitting on the ground and crying with laughter* “If you ever come into the NICU and try to touch a baby, I’ll have you shot.”

Mickey And Fairies And Elsa, Oh My!

, , , , , , , , | Related | August 29, 2019

(My girlfriend recently moved in with me. She used to live in New Jersey, but left because she didn’t feel she had reason to stay there. Her family lives across three states, and her friends were always too busy for more than a text conversation. Despite this, she still misses NJ — she lived there all her life — and is depressed for a while after moving in with me. Eventually, I convince her to get out of the house for a while and I take her to the Disney Store, one of her favorite places ever. It works! She leaves happier than she went in, and she buys an Elsa doll. Before we return home, we stop at my brother’s house to get my niece and take her to her grandma’s. Unfortunately, my brother’s mouth runs faster than his brain.)

Brother: “Hey! Did you buy that for [Niece]?”

Me: “No, [Girlfriend] bought that for herself.”

Brother: “What for? Isn’t that stuff for little kids? She should just give it to [Niece], anyway. I mean, what is she going to do with it? People will think she’s some sad person who never grew up. Everyone in the neighborhood will talk about her.”

(My girlfriend has seen my brother only three times — this being the third — so she feels too shy to really speak up and say anything. I just want to leave, so I ask where our niece is and my brother calls her to the door. She hurries with her backpack and, of course, immediately spots the Elsa doll.)

Niece: “Auntie, you got Elsa! Grandma bought me Anna! Want to see it? It’s at her house!”

Brother: “[Niece], grownups don’t play with dolls. Cartoons are for kids like you. Grownups don’t care about that.”

Niece: “That’s not true! Mommy was Wonder Woman for Halloween! And Grandma likes Mickey Mouse! And grandpa likes Superman! And Uncle–” *referring to me* “–likes ponies! And Auntie–” *my girlfriend* “–likes fairies! And I like all of them!”

(My brother seemed like he wanted to say something, but just told us goodbye and we left. I want to think he was embarrassed that a six-year-old was more open-minded than he was, but knowing him, he probably blew it off and only said nothing because my niece said it. She’s the only one he has a filter around since she’s a kid. On the upside, my girlfriend found it funny and appreciated the inadvertent defense. She started smiling more after that day.)

He Gin-uinely Tried It

, , , , , , | Healthy | August 27, 2019

(I am a student nurse, about a year from graduation. A friend of mine calls.)

Me: “Hello?”

Friend: “So, you’re a nurse, right?”

Me: “I already don’t like where this is going, and I’m a student nurse. Not–”

Friend: “Okay, well, I have some gravel deep in my hand. Can I just pour some gin on it and be fine?”

(Gin also happens to be his favorite alcohol.)

Me: “What?! Hang on; how did you get gravel in your hand and how deep is it?”

Friend: “I was on my bike and some a**hole opened their car door right in front of me and I went down pretty hard. And here, let me just take a picture.”

(He sends me a picture of his hand, showing that the gravel is dug in pretty deep and firmly stuck in so rinsing it with anything won’t get it out.)

Me: “You need to get tweezers and pull out the gravel, rinse it with water, put something like Neosporin on it, and cover it with a bandaid.”

Friend: “Well, I don’t have tweezers or any of that, really.”

Me: “You live in NYC. There’s definitely some kind of drug store or corner store you can get this stuff in.”

Friend: “I don’t want to spend money on things I already have at home, so can I just pour gin on it?”

Me: *sighs* “I cannot condone this at all but rinsing it with water is probably the best option.”

Friend: “So, gin is okay?”

Me: “If you’re intent on using alcohol, use straight vodka, instead, BUT I CANNOT CONDO–”

Friend: “Okay, thanks, bye!” *hangs up*

(He texts me a picture of his hand. He has used a prong of his watch to dig out the gravel, causing himself to bleed more and making the entire area fairly red. He texts me an hour or so later.)

Friend: “The barkeeper wouldn’t just give me some vodka, so I had to buy it and go into the bathroom to rinse it. Thanks again!”

Me: “This still was not your best option and I cannot condone this behavior.”

(He never replied.)

Call Me By My Name And I’ll Seat You Under Yours

, , , , , , , | Right | May 17, 2019

(I work as a Maitre’D for a restaurant in a pretty fancy part of New York City. The chef is Michelin Starred, NYT reviewed, and pretty popular with celebrity clientele. The restaurant is his newest venture, and is very trendy in the industry. An online media company with a show devoted to comparing different styles of food has recently released a video featuring our restaurant, and combined with the chef’s reputation and the style of the restaurant, getting a reservation is difficult and walking in for seating is even more so. My job is to seat reservations, help walk-ins, and manage the waitlist. Because of the popularity, many people try to circumvent me, but sometimes they drive me to my breaking point.)

Customer: “Hello, we’d like a table for four. And we’ll need a high chair for our youngest.”

Me: “Wonderful. Unfortunately, at this point, we have about a two-hour wait for a party of four.” *notices some movement out of the corner of my eye* “However, it looks like there are some seats opening up at our counter seating right now. Those seats are first-come, first-served, so if you’d like to grab those you could dine immediately!”

(Her husband moves over with her kids to claim the seats; however, the woman remains in front of me.)

Customer: “That’s not going to work. My son can’t sit up on a stool that high. We need a table in the dining room right now.”

(Her son is sitting perfectly fine on the stool after his father puts him up there.)

Me: “Unfortunately, ma’am, I am booked full with reservations and I do have quite a waitlist already going. It could potentially be sooner if I have reservations that don’t show and parties on my waitlist also don’t return, but without both of those possibilities occurring, the counter seating is your quickest bet.”

Customer: “I can’t believe this. I come in here all the time. I’m here every weekend and we never have to wait. I am a good friend of [Chef] and we always get a seat. I’m on your VIP list. Don’t you know who I am?!

Me: “Don’t you know who I am?”

Customer:I want to– Wait… What?”

Me: “Don’t you know who I am? You say you’re in here all the time. I’m one of three people employed here in this position and have been here since the restaurant opened. If you’re here as often as you say then you should know who I am. You’re one of 300 people I am seeing this afternoon alone; I don’t know who you are. But if you can tell me my name, I’d be happy to get you seated.”

(The woman’s mouth opens and closes like a fish before she grunts and turns to join her family. My manager, who I didn’t notice was watching from just off the floor, approaches me. I’m convinced I’m about to be reprimanded, if not fired for talking to a guest like that. But to my surprise…)

Manager: “If she comes back up here and asks to speak to a manager, just give her my card and have her email or call me. I’ll make sure the boss and chef don’t hear about it. I just didn’t want to deal with her and you looked like you could take care of it.”

(Cue the sighs of relief.)


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