Nothing Says Comfort Like Dank Memes

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Anonymous By Request | June 4, 2021

I work in a hotel, and today I got a couple of requests on a reservation. The first is, “I would like pictures of your top five most favorite memes.” Hmm. Never got one of these before. The second half of the request is for “a goldfish named Karl.”

My expectation is that this is a young person. Hopefully, they’re not under twenty-one because then I can’t even check them in. But it’s been kind of a s*** week, so I guess what’s the harm in perusing the Internet for some memes to accommodate this guest’s request?

I do not have a stash of memes, so I literally have to just go around Reddit and look for funny things, I guess? It just so happens we have a whole box full of cheap frames that we need something to do with. There are two weddings in the house, so I’m going to run out of time by the time the first group starts to depart in a couple of hours. So… here goes nothing!

If anything, I hope I can select decent memes and make this person’s day.

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They Keep House Better Than You Keep Your Belongings

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: deepthroatcircus | June 3, 2021

Our hotel is chronically understaffed and housekeeping is constantly overworked. I am helping out on a particularly busy weekend when they are swamped. We have sold way more rooms than housekeeping is capable of servicing, so we have people from all different departments helping tidy up rooms, make beds, etc. I go to clean a room that has just checked out and everything goes as normal. I clean the room, the housekeeping supervisor checks it, and she passes it off as ready for sale.

A guest calls about an hour after checking out and claims she forgot her phone in the room I just cleaned. Housekeeping calls me and asks if I found an iPhone in the room. I say no, but I’ll go back and check to see if I missed it somehow. I go and check and find nothing. The supervisor also says she found nothing.

The guest insists she left the phone there and gets angrier and angrier because she’s on her way to the airport and is flying home. Things escalate to the point where she says she will call the police on us.

The police do get involved; they contact housekeeping and ask them to identify who had access to the room. The head of housekeeping and my manager call me down and fill me in. They say that I really need to tell the truth as to whether I found the phone or not. I swear to them that I didn’t, and I even show one of the managers the inside of my locker and the contents of my gym bag to prove I don’t have it. They then proceed to question the housekeeping supervisor, and she says the same thing and also shows them her locker and her purse.

We’re freaking out because the police are involved and nobody knows who took the phone. Then, the front desk calls down. The woman has called the police to let them know that she found her iPhone; it was in her suitcase.

No apology. No call to the hotel. Nothing. The police are pissed off that she has wasted their time, and for some reason, nobody at the hotel ends up taking any action against her.

Moral of the story: if you’re going to accuse people of stealing and put their jobs at risk, make sure your stupid a** is sure you actually lost it.

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No Meat In Their Brain, Part 6

, , , , | Right | June 2, 2021

A few years ago, my family were out and about in town and decided to visit a well-known burger place, known for putting virtually anything you could want on your burger from grilled mushrooms and onions to A1 steak sauce.

One of our group decided to order a vegetarian burger. The rest of us were rather surprised as none of us are vegetarians. The ordering was completed without any other hiccups, and we sat down to wait for our food.

Once the food arrived, everyone dug in. Joy and merriment were had by all, except for the one who ordered the veggie burger. Upon sampling her order, she was surprised to find that there was no meat in her burger. Confused, the rest of us chimed in that she’d received exactly what she ordered: a burger without meat, hence a vegetarian burger. Woe unto us, however, for she stormed to the counter and demanded an explanation as to why she hadn’t received meat on her burger. The staff, to their infinite credit, made her a new burger to make her happy, and we finished the rest of the meal without incident.

The next day, we visited the same store to apologize on her behalf and to thank them for going above and beyond. We went back a few more times before we moved, but we made certain she was never with us!

No Meat In Their Brain, Part 5
No Meat In Their Brain, Part 4
No Meat In Their Brain, Part 3
No Meat In Their Brain, Part 2
No Meat In Their Brain

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Making The Grade By The Letter Of The Law

, , , , , , | Learning | June 1, 2021

About twenty years ago, I was attending law school part-time during the day while still keeping my full-time job, which provided tuition reimbursement. Despite that, my grades were just below the top ten percent of the class. To minimize classroom time, one summer I requested permission for a one-credit research class that I could work on during my free time.

I was directed to a professor in my area of interest who agreed to supervise the project by email, though we never met. I suggested a topic, with which he was amenable, and he emailed over the rubric for the paper so that it would fulfill the requirements.

After five or six weeks, I completed the legal research and began writing the paper. A week later, I emailed a draft that had some edits, but the email back was reasonably positive about the paper. I showed it to some of my colleagues at work, who also gave very positive feedback. I incorporated all of the edits and suggestions and submitted it by email to the professor.

He gave me a C+, my lowest grade in Law School (before or after). I emailed him and asked for feedback but got no real explanation other than that he wasn’t impressed.

I was quite annoyed. Around the same time, I happened to notice a contest in a law school journal where the best student-written paper would get published and win a significant cash prize — $2,500. Second and third place also received money and publication. Since I had the C+ paper I’d just written, I sent it in, just for kicks.

Sometime later — at least several months — the journal called me to let me know that my C+ paper won first place in the contest out of more than forty or fifty submissions. It was published and I got the check. The award ceremony was in California and I was on the East coast, so I wasn’t able to attend.

As a coda, I wrote a letter to the school newspaper detailing this story and explaining how paper grades were very subjective. The professor was apparently annoyed; in that letter, I did use his name. He took the trouble to email me that he’d purported to show the letter to a judge friend of his, who supposedly would have only given me a B.

I don’t care because I had $2,500 extra in the bank. Honestly, if he had given me an A, I’m not sure I would have submitted it to the contest, so I can’t really complain.

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The Grand Tale Of Spike The Fearless And His Spiky Foe

, , , , , , | Friendly | May 26, 2021

Here comes the tale of fright and sacrifice that lead to our family accidentally adopting a stray kitten.

It was the middle of the night, and all was quiet in the cul-de-sac of the family home. I was tucked up asleep in my room with our cat purring on my pillow, my sister was off in dreamland in her sleepout in the back garden, and my parents were happily away in snoozetown in their shared bed. The time was around 2:00 am when something startled my stepfather awake.

He tried to ignore it, but after about five minutes, it was clear that the piercing sound was not going to end. Even if it was only disturbing him, he had to find and put an end to the disturbance. He put on a dressing gown, fished out a flashlight, and slipped out the front door.

The small front yard revealed nothing but the innocent plants; there was nothing hiding under the cars outside the fence. He tiptoed around, poking the light everywhere, until the sound led him across the small road into a neighbour’s yard where he found a tiny kitten being attacked by a hedgehog!

The kitten, no bigger than a palm, was wailing its little lungs out and trying to escape the prickle-beast, which had at least 20% more body than it did. The hedgehog also had the young cat’s ear in its mouth and seemed very determined that this should continue.

Being the proud cat lover that my stepfather was, he indignantly chased the hedgehog off into the bushes and let the kitten calm down before backing off, figuring the mother cat would soon be along to protect her little jellybean. He was too small to be far from her. Confident, he headed back to bed.

Ten minutes later, the noise had started up again. Confused, my stepfather grabbed the bathrobe and the torch again and slipped back out of the house. Despite his best hopes, the mother had not come back to her defiant child, but the hedgehog had! It was once again attempting to make a meal out of the helpless but very noisy little soul. Once more, my stepfather chased away the hungry rodent and scooped up the little palmful of kitten. But what to do with this bean? He decided the safest course of action would be to spirit it over the roadway and into our front yard. Surely then the mother would deem it safe to come rescue her infant, and there’d be no way a hedgehog would find it again. He found a good spot to tuck the kitten where it would be safe and warm for the mother to find and returned to the comfort of his bed.

You’ll never guess what woke him up two hours later. On went the robe, out came the torch. He rushed into the front garden to find that the mother had not tracked the kitten over the road, but a certain prickly fiend had! Once more, the barbed beast was driven off, and the kitten was placed in a basket on our back porch, with no more noise for the rest of the night.

Come the morning, it was still there. No mother had come hunting for her child, so we took it upon ourselves to attempt to comfort the shrill little creature with a jaunty half-ear. As we attempted to get him to eat and find him a place where he would be welcomed, our local SPCA rounded up a white cat with a similarly-sized white kitten. Maybe the mother and a sibling, but we will never know.

The loud-mouthed little jellybean made himself at home with us, even if our current cat did not approve, hissing viciously before running away and hiding on something tall.

We called him Spike. One of us because he had the one ear, one of us because Spike Milligan had just passed away, and one of us because he was a saucy little devil who would much rather bite someone than eat the food he was begging for. He lived a good life and ended up weighing eight kg — about twice the normal weight for a cat. He was eternally loud and always loved waking my stepfather up at two in the morning with his piercing cries, even when he had a cat door.

It just goes to show, sometimes you do have to scream when something goes wrong.

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