Wrap This Person In Bubble Wrap! Part 2

, , , , | Healthy | February 6, 2021



All through my life, I have been accidentally injuring myself in spectacular ways. The fact that I have balance and coordination problems as a result of ASD and Dyspraxia doesn’t help. At school, the teachers knew me as “the girl who’s always getting hurt.” I have so many stories about me getting injured that it would be impossible to share them all here, but here’s one of the worse ones.

This was about two years ago when I was nineteen years old, on the night of my sister’s sixteenth birthday. My sister and I don’t get on, so my mother and I agreed that I could spend the evening in my room. I was happy enough, as I don’t really cope well with lots of people around, and anyway, none of my sister’s friends liked me.

I was sitting in my room playing a game on my computer, and I got up to use the bathroom. As I slid out from between my desk and my chair, my foot must have gotten caught in a cable, because I tripped. I fell and smacked face-first into a set of bookshelves, smashing my glasses. My hands, forearms, and knees hit the wooden floor with full force. My mother, hearing the loud crash, came rushing in to find me sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from my nose, unable to use my arms to push myself upright. She did her best to stop the bleeding from my nose and then decided that it would be prudent to take me to the hospital.

A couple of x-rays later and the extent of my injuries was shocking. I’d broken my nose in three places; the pain was so bad that I felt sick. I’d broken my left radius and ulna in six places and shattered my left thumb. I’d broken my right wrist in two places and three fingers on my right hand. After an overnight stay in hospital, I went for surgery the following morning and was kept in again overnight.

My mother came to pick me up from the hospital and, according to her, I “looked a real sight.” I had two black eyes and bruising on my cheeks, and my nose was in a cast. My left arm was casted from my fingers up past my elbow, and I had a cast on my thumb. My right arm had a cast covering my three broken fingers and running along my arm until just before my elbow. My knees were bruised, and although not broken, it was painful to bend them.

As I walked out of the hospital with my two arms in slings, it occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to do much for myself for the next few weeks. Plus, I’ve been deaf and non-speaking since birth and I use sign language, so I knew I’d have to get by with nodding and shaking my head. I hated needing my mother to feed me, wash me, and dress me, but what could I do? I told myself that at least I could still walk…

And then two weeks later, I fell down the stairs, broke my leg, and ended up confined to bed anyway!

Wrap This Person In Bubble Wrap!

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Two Bros Sleeping Five Feet Apart Because They’re Not Gay

, , , , | Friendly | January 23, 2021

I have a friend who is… strange, to say the least. He is FIERCELY pro-gay rights and yet is simultaneously one of the most homophobic people I’ve ever met. Don’t ask me to explain his logic, because I can’t. It’s worth noting that neither of us is gay.

I invite him to go with me on a trip to London, which requires an early morning departure; our flight is at 6:30 am or something like that. To soften the pain of waking up early, I decide that we’ll go to the airport the night before and check ourselves into the airport hotel, literally a three-minute walk from departures.

We arrive at the hotel and check in, and on entering our room, we discover that the reception has put us in a double room instead of a twin. I say nothing, but my friend starts THIS conversation.

Friend: “It’s a double bed.”

Me: “Yes, it is. Reception must have messed up.”

Friend: “So, can we talk to them? It’s a double bed!”

I phone reception, who realise their error and apologise, saying that they can’t do anything about it as they are fully booked. They give us a complimentary dinner in the hotel as an apology. I thank them, tell them we manage with a double bed, and hang up.

My friend emerges from the bathroom as I’m hanging up the phone.

Friend: “Well?”

Me: “They’re fully booked.”

Friend: “So what do we do? It’s a double bed.

Me: “We’ll have to manage.”

My friend looks genuinely terrified at the prospect of having to share a DOUBLE BED with a male friend.

Friend: “But…”

Me: “But what?”

Friend: “…”

Me: “Oh, come on, mate. It’s one night. What are you afraid of? Sharing a bed with your male friend isn’t going to turn you gay, you know!”

Friend: *Panicking* “Don’t say stuff like that!”

We went down to dinner and my friend seemed more nervous and on-edge than usual; he always was highly strung. Back in the room, I lay on the bed to watch TV while my friend sat awkwardly in a chair. When bedtime arrived, he squirmed as I climbed into my side of the bed, and then he rolled over and tried to get as far away from me as possible. He was being ridiculous.

We both ended up sleeping very well, and my friend survived his “ordeal” with no “damage” to his sexuality. We had a great time in London and arrived home safe and sound. To this day, I still feel his response to sharing a bed with me was an overreaction. Am I right?

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Purity, Gone In A Flash

, , , , | Working | January 11, 2021

My boyfriend and I — both male — are tourists in Northern Ireland. We have a few hours to pass, so we walk into a large cathedral to look around. We are both very interested in history, and religious buildings of all forms are great preservers of local history, so they are some of our favorite places to visit when we travel.

While we’re walking around the cathedral, a priest approaches.

Priest: “Hello, and welcome to [Cathedral]! Do you have any questions about this magnificent building or the area around us?”

We end up spending several minutes chatting to him, and he happily answers all of our questions about the cathedral itself and the city we’re in. Finally, we have only one more question to ask.

Me: “Is it okay to take photographs of some of the displays and artwork around the building?”

Priest: “Yes, it is okay, although I must advise you not to use flash, as it could damage some of the older artworks.”

Me: “That’s fine. We go to a lot of museums, so we’re used to no flash.”

Priest: “Of course, women may flash in here… but surely, two handsome young gentlemen such as yourselves know all about that, as well!”

With that comment, my boyfriend and I — again, both male — were both stunned into silence. Before either of us could respond, the priest chuckled to himself, wished us a blessed day, and wandered off to introduce himself to the next visitors. My boyfriend and I wandered around for another ten minutes or so, taking pictures — without flash, of course — and then headed to the nearest pub to try and wash the awkward memory away.

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If Only I Had A Reason To Smile

, , , , , | Right | December 25, 2020

It is late December. My boss is upstairs working on a stock-take, and my two part-time colleagues and I are in the shop dealing with customers. Late in the afternoon, a woman comes in looking for light fittings.

Me: “Madam, it turns out the fittings you want are one of the most common ones we stock, so we have plenty in at the moment.”

Customer: “I need five of them.”

I rush upstairs to grab them and then bring them over to the till.

Me: “That will be [price].”

Customer: “What? No! That’s too much! Give me a discount!”

Me: “I have already discounted them.”

Customer: “Then give me a bigger discount!”

Me: “Sorry, madam, but I cannot give you any more of a discount. I’m not allowed to.”

Customer: “Then go and ask your boss for permission!”

I go upstairs — reluctantly, as I know what my boss will say — and ask him about the possibility of giving her a further discount on the light fittings.

Manager: “No, the profit margin on the fittings are so tight that we can’t go any lower than the price you’ve already quoted.”

I return to the shop and apologetically tell her that I won’t be able to give her a further discount. She takes this really badly, launching into a verbal attack on me, complaining about how awful my customer service is.

Customer: “It’s Christmas! You should show some festive spirit! I’m always in the shop so I should at least deserve a discount!”

I find this last one strange because I’ve been working there since May and have never met her before now.

She pays for the light fittings, still complaining and being genuinely unpleasant. I stand there trying hard not to cry and just wanting her to get out of the shop. I hand her the receipt and she snatches it and glares at me.

Customer: “Oh, and by the way, it’s Christmas! A f****** smile wouldn’t go amiss!”

She stormed out, and I stood behind the counter, fuming.

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Essentially, You’re An Idiot

, , , , | Working | December 18, 2020

I work in a hospital as an IT technician. My colleague told me this story. A few years before I started working there, the Estates department declared a cap on “unnecessary expenditure” within their department. This basically meant they wouldn’t do any work that they considered to be “nonessential.”

Around the same time, the Chief Executive of the Health Trust to which the hospital belonged declared that “all departments must do their utmost to reduce waiting lists” and that “resources would be made available to facilitate this.”

My colleague was contacted by the leader of a small nursing team who had determined that waiting lists in her department could be reduced by the addition of three new staff members. She had recruited the staff and now just needed three new PCs and monitors. My colleague ordered the PCs, got them set up, and then visited her department to see where the new machines could go. He realised that, while there was ample desk space for the new employees, there weren’t enough power sockets and network points in the office to connect the computers.

My colleague put in a request to Estates Services to get three new network points and six new power sockets installed in the office. That afternoon, one of the Estates people rejected the request as “unnecessary expenditure.” Furious, my colleague phoned the head of the Estates department.

Estates Head: *Arrogantly* “Power sockets and network points are not classed as essential maintenance, and would thus incur unnecessary expenditure.”

Colleague: *Calmly* “Okay, fine. But when [Chief Executive] asks [Nursing Team Leader] why she hasn’t done enough to reduce her department’s waiting lists, I’ll make sure she tells him that it’s because your department won’t do their jobs!”

The following day, my colleague got a call from a delighted [Nursing Team Leader], who informed him that Estates Services had just been in and installed six new power sockets and three new network points.

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