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Enveloped In Confusion

, , , , , | Related | September 28, 2021

My uncle is very sweet, but sometimes I’m not 100% sure how his thought processes work. My birthday is coming up, and today I got a letter-sized envelope from him in the mail. Inside, stacked on top of each other, were:

1) a small gift card, which would easily fit inside a greeting card;

2) a birthday card (folded in half to fit into the envelope);

3) a taller, narrower envelope, perfectly sized for the birthday card, clearly bought with the birthday card, and also folded in half to fit into the letter-sized envelope. 

I can’t figure out why he didn’t use the birthday card’s envelope; the gift card was nowhere near big enough to keep it from fitting, and he wouldn’t have had to fold the birthday card. But even if he did have a reason for wanting to use the letter-sized envelope, why did he send me the one that came with the birthday card?

You And Me Go Poopin’ In The Dark

, , | Right | September 26, 2021

When I worked at a convenience store, people coming off of the interstate would come in at five minutes to closing and go to the bathroom and play on their phones. I turned off all the lights except the one directly in front of my register. I can’t believe the number of people that couldn’t take a hint and would wander a dark store looking at candy and potato chips.

Voicing Concerns Over Your Phone Voice

, , , , , | Right | September 25, 2021

I’ve worked in the same job for almost five years, repeating the same things over and over again, so much so that I’ve perfected my phone voice.

Every now and again, customers may confuse me with cold callers as we sometimes need to call customers back who are having issues. Sometimes, I also get confused for a computer or robot instead of a person.

What is new is that when I asked a customer to tell me her date of birth the other day, instead of telling me, she started hitting numbers on her phone! It took me a few seconds to process what she was doing, and she was quite embarrassed when I asked her to tell me out loud.

The rest of the call went smoothly, though!

His Theft Was Only A Smashing Success For His Nose

, , , , , | Legal | September 24, 2021

One night, around midnight, I realized that I’d left a book in my truck, so I headed out to retrieve it. As I stepped out the door, I spotted someone trying to wiggle out from under my truck in my driveway. At first, I thought it was a dog or something, but then he shifted into the light enough for me to realize it was a man. I shouted, and he managed to wiggle his way out and try to run off, only to trip and slam face-first into the short brick wall that borders our yard. He managed to stagger up and vault the wall, running off, but he obviously broke his nose or something, given the blood splatter that was left on the wall where he hit.

I checked under my truck and quickly worked out he’d been trying to cut off the catalytic converter, leaving some damage to the exhaust. I managed to get that patched up, shuffled some things around so I had enough space to actually pull my truck into the garage, and felt that would be the end of it. I made a report to the police and moved on.

But then, around three days after it happened, a brick got thrown through my front window with a note tied to it, telling me that I would be in “big legal problems” if I didn’t pay for the “medical damages” I’d caused, and listing a PO box that I was supposed to send a check to.

Naturally, I did not do that. Instead, I called the police and provided them with the note as well as my suspicions about what it was regarding. And, it turns out, that was enough of a lead for them to track the guy down. They got me to come in to identify him, and he was apparently linked to several other thefts and break-ins in the area. So, off he went to jail.

But wait, it doesn’t stop there. About a month after all of this happened, I came out to find a paper taped to my front door. On it was a picture of a sad-looking kid and the sentence, “I hope u proudlee like that u make child cry for papa.” It took me a second to figure out what the h*** this was talking about, but once it clicked, I took a pen and wrote, “Very, very proudly,” on the bottom of the paper, and then left it taped on the outside of the brick wall, right about the point where the would-be thief broke his nose.

The paper was gone within a couple of days. I don’t know if one of the neighbors saw it and took it down, but I like to think that whoever posted it came by and got to see that I wasn’t shedding any tears that her “baby daddy” or whatever was in jail.

A Berry Amusing Way To Deal With An Awkward Situation

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: Publandlady | September 24, 2021

For my family friend’s sixteenth birthday, we went to see Alfred Ellis play at an open garden concert. It was a casual picnic-style affair, but due to certain members of the five families being extremely culinary, it turned into a buffet, to the point that we needed tables, which we brought. During the first intermission, the ten teenagers were ready to descend on the food like wild animals, but we were raised better than our instincts, so we each grabbed a plate and lined up.

We then realised that we had a longer line than expected. About thirty people had lined up behind us. The sweet little old lady behind me asked where the till was, so we had to explain to people that it was a private meal for someone’s birthday.

Most were very understanding — and were given a plate of what we had not touched later — but one woman decided that, because we had set it up the way we had, we were wait staff, we were liars, and we would be comping her food for the trauma she had suffered. We were middle-class white kids in Somerset in the early 2000s. You could not get sadder or more diverse in clothing. We did not look like waitstaff. If she had called us vagrants, hippies, or gangsters, she may have been closer.

During her rant, a strawberry landed on her hat. She didn’t notice. But we sure did. So now she had something to scream about, as we were laughing at her FOR NO REASON, HOWDAREWEVERYMUCH! Then, another strawberry hit her, hard enough for her to notice. She looked up and a raspberry got her in the chin.

Unfortunately for her, the emotional infants of the group — two of the dads, mine included — had decided that the pile of strawberries and raspberries for pudding could be sacrificed in order to put her in her place. It took a few tries for her to get it, but every time she opened her maw to carry on, they would chuck a strawberry at her. She left when we all moved to join in.

The best part was when we spotted her far away, over-gesturing at what was clearly a manager. He gave the excellent response of a “What do you expect me to do about it?” shrug. He didn’t come over.

I also got to meet Alfred Ellis when he became a doctorate at my university some years later. My friend was extremely jealous.