Having A Psychyatric Breakdown

, , , , | Learning | August 17, 2017

(It is the pre-Internet days of reference books and slide projectors. A lecturer is discussing health emergencies and displays a slide about “psychyatric” emergencies. It’s also important to note that the lecturer is very short.)

Professor: “Can anyone tell me what’s wrong with the figure on this slide?”

Student #1: “Well, uh, you spelled psychiatric incorrectly.”

Professor: “No, I was looking for issues with the approaches to care. And for the record, I spelled it correctly.”

Student #2: “I don’t think so…”

Professor: *turns and stares at the slide* “Maybe… Luckily, this is why we invented dictionaries.”

(She goes to get a dictionary off the shelf, but it’s too high for her. Despite students offering to help, she stands on a chair and retrieves the dictionary, but immediately slips and falls. Students rush in to help, but she waves them away.)

Professor: “I think the lecture is going to have to wait. I believe I’ve broken my foot. Could someone run down to the office and fetch [Medical Professor]?”

(The medical professor shows up, confirms her suspicion, and starts to help her out of the classroom. Just before leaving, though, he looks back at the slide.)

Medical Professor: “You know that’s not how you spell psychiatric, right?”

Professor: “If one person tells me that, I’m going to give a practical demonstration of a psychiatric emergency. Can we go to the hospital?”

(Years later, this was told by Student #1 as a professor at a medical school lecture when asked if he thought the Internet had improved health.)

Rage Mop When They Just Won’t Rage Quit

, , , , , | Right | August 13, 2017

(I ran a handful of errands before my opening shift at the store. Because I’ve been hustling due to the trains being delayed and I’m carrying four heavy bags AND it’s over 95 degrees out, I am sweaty, red, and frustrated when I arrive. I’ve arrived 45 minutes before we open because I want to mop after an especially busy and dirty weekend. Our store has a more casual policy on customer service — essentially, be polite but don’t suffer fools. I rarely take advantage of this as 20 years of service industry jobs have brainwashed standards into me, but today I am running on no sleep and possible heat exhaustion. A lady is standing outside the gated store when I arrive.)

Lady: “Oh, good, you’re finally here.”

Me: “I beg your pardon?”

Lady: “Are you opening? You’re late!”

Me: “I am opening, ma’am, but the store doesn’t open until 11. You’ve got 45 minutes left.”

Lady: “That’s wrong.”

Me: ”It isn’t. It’s on the sign right here.” *I point*

Lady: “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I need a card.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not going to let you in 45 minutes before open, certainly not for a $4 card. There’s a CVS up the street and about 11 stationery stores within a 10 block radius. I’m here early because the store needs to be cleaned and this is the ONLY time I can fit it in around my three jobs. Please come back at 11.”

(She huffs and starts to walk off so I go about raising the gate and wrestling the ancient oak door open. Suddenly I feel a shove from behind me, and this lady is trying to shove her way into the store past me!)

Me: *screaming with all of my rage from the morning* “WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU DOING?! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU LUNATIC!”

(She stops, looking shocked. I am enraged, so I simply hurl my bags through the door, shoulder it closed, and lock it in her face. We stare at each other through the glass for a second, then I turn away and start my tasks while taking deep breaths. The phone rings several times but I can see her pressed against the door window with her cell to her ear so I ignore it. My cell phone rings then and I see it’s my boss, who opens the main store in another neighborhood an hour earlier than this one.)

Me: “Hi, [Boss].”

Boss: “Hey… how’s the mopping going?”

Me: “Just getting started. Had some difficulty getting into the store this morning.”

Boss: “Yeah, uh, a lady called and says you slapped her, kicked her, and called her a b**** this morning?”

Me: “…no.”

Boss: “What happened?”

Me: “She was here when I got here, ignored me when I asked her to come back after open, and then shoved me to try and force her way inside. I screamed at her because she startled me and I was hot and tired, and then I locked the door in her face. She’s outside right now staring at me through the window.”

Boss: “Whoah. That’s nuts. If she is still there at open, call the police. Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah. Just angry.”

Boss: “Yeah, if she comes in after you open refuse her service. Tell her to leave. If you want I can come there for support.”

Me: “Nah, I can handle that. I’m calmer now, after rage-mopping.”

Boss: ”Okay. Hang in there!”

(The lady finally left about 10 minutes before opening. Apparently she had called my boss again and he told her to leave or he’d call the police. Then she called again and screamed at him and he hung up on her. She left eight voice messages on our machine.)

Bambi’s New Mommy

, , , | Romantic | August 12, 2017

(My boyfriend and I are messaging each other about deer. I send him a picture of a deer that was in my yard and he replies back with many pictures of deer he has spotted at his workplace.)

Me: “I saw two babies the other day.”

Me: “They were so tiny and cute.”

Me: “I want one.”

Me: “Get me one.”

Boyfriend: “…”

Me: “DEER BABIES.”

Me: “I MEANT DEER BABIES.”

Boyfriend: “Only if you give it a bath and tick check every day.”

A Series Of Unfortunate Choices

, , , | Learning | August 12, 2017

(In kindergarten I was somewhat of an advanced reader, so my teachers occasionally had a hard time finding books for me to read. At one point, I had been given “A Series of Unfortunate Events”, which is somewhat of a disturbing book for a five-year-old. When I came home in tears after beginning to read it, my mom had to have a talk with the teacher who recommended it. This is what happens.)

Mom: “Why did you recommend this book to my son? He read it and started crying!”

Teacher: “Really? How come?”

Mom: “What do you mean how come? The main characters are imprisoned with an evil uncle who basically tortures them!”

Teacher: “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Mom: “What? How could you not know?”

Teacher: “I didn’t read it first, if that’s what you mean. I had no idea.”

Mom: “Why didn’t you read it? What if it had something rude in it?”

Teacher: “Oh, I figured the plot didn’t matter as long as it was his reading level.”

Mom: “WHAT? How could the plot not matter!? You never should have given him that book!”

Teacher: “But it was his reading level…”

They’re In Your Hood Now

, , , | Learning | August 8, 2017

(I am mixed-race, black and white, and my skin is visibly brown. I identify as black. I am sitting at a fairly diverse table of pre-schoolers playing with play-dough. The first kid to speak is also mixed like I am, and visibly brown.)

Kid #1: “Miss [My Name], what are those strings for?” *points to the strings on my black hoodie*

(I put up my hood and pull the strings tight a la Kenny from South Park when he gets scared, tie them off, and grin at the table of kids from my tiny remaining circle of visible face.)

Kid #2: “You look like a black person.”

(Pause.)

Me: “I AM a black person…”

Kid #1: *shocked* “You’re a black person?!”

Coworker: “So are you, [Kid #1]!”

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