This story reminded me of something that happened at our school about a decade ago. I’m a teacher at the school, and one of my colleagues was a bit old-fashioned. You know the sort of thing, discipline in class, write with pen and paper rather than computers, etc. Now, her methods worked, and her students achieved good results, so that wasn’t really a problem.

One thing she insisted on, though, was that students knock on the door to the teacher’s office whenever they wanted to enter. Not so much to ask, right? Just teaching the kids normal courtesy, right? Yes, indeed. Except for one thing: one of the emergency exit paths went through the teacher’s office. I’m sure you can see where this is going.

One day, the fire alarm went off. No warning, it just started howling. I’m the designated fire safety guy on our staff, and I have drilled the students (and staff) to exit calmly whenever this happens, using THE NEAREST EXIT. This is important, otherwise we end up having 350 people all trying to leave by the main exit, which will increase the time it takes for everybody to exit the building, up to fifteen minutes instead of less than two.

Naturally, one group of students headed to the exit that went through the teachers’ office. I could see them heading in the door, and… then the queue stopped. Rushing over to see if there was a problem, I realized that they had been stopped by my above-mentioned colleague. All the while, the fire alarm was still howling away.

Colleague: “You can’t go through here.”

Students: “But the…”

Colleague: “No, no. Can’t go through here. This is the…”

Me: *Interrupting.* “Keep going, everyone! Out the back door, down the stairs, to the meeting spot!”

Colleague: “This is the…”

Me: “I said everyone. You too, let’s go.”

I didn’t give her a chance to argue. I just shooed the students through, pointing at the sign that marked the emergency exit while shooting my colleague a “don’t test me on this” look. We were all out of the building in less than two minutes. It turned out to be an unscheduled drill set up by the building’s owners, which is why we hadn’t been informed beforehand.

During our weekly staff meeting, I gave everybody a quick summary of how the drill had gone. I made a point to remind everyone, not mentioning anyone in particular, to always use the nearest exit, including the one going through the teachers’ office. My colleague didn’t say a word; she just looked sheepish.

Related:
An Alarming Lack Of Alarm, Part 4
An Alarming Lack Of Alarm, Part 3
An Alarming Lack Of Alarm, Part 2
An Alarming Lack Of Alarm

I hear a teacher talking with the Fire Prevention Manager (FPM).

Teacher: “When did you schedule the fire drill?”

FPM: “Thursday next week.”

Teacher: “Do you think you could do it a bit sooner? My students have a test on Thursday. and we’re hoping not to be interrupted.”

FPM: “Maybe… but it would have to be Wednesday, then. Monday is no good for me.”

Teacher: “Oh… Well, we have a lot of prep work on Wednesday. Any chance you could set it for Tuesday?”

FPM: “No, that won’t work.”

Teacher: “Why not?”

FPM: “What’s the date?”

Teacher: *Checking the calendar* “Uh… April… first?

FPM: “…”

Teacher: “Right. Wednesday it is.”

I used to work in a nursing home for Alzheimer’s patients. Once a week, a sweet little lady would bring her dogs to the home so the patients could pet them. That was a great thing, don’t get me wrong, but the thing was…

Me: “Hey, [Supervisor], I think I should avoid working that shift.”

Supervisor: “Why? Don’t tell me a big man like you is scared of dogs!”

Me: “Scared? No. Allergic? Yes.”

Supervisor: *Big weary sigh* “Allergies are completely psychological. I used to be allergic to cats, but when I put my mind to it, I wasn’t anymore.”

She then proceeded to deliberately put me on a post that forced me to be near the dogs. I tried to refuse and swap shifts, but she wouldn’t let me. To make a point, I turned up anyway. I got sick and ended up in the hospital.

I got a note from the hospital because she said I was just faking it to get off work, but in reality, she was annoyed because she was down one member of staff that shift due to her cruel actions and had to do some actual work herself.

I get the odd scam call, and it amuses me how I can drag them along. Today, a Norwegian cell number comes up, but my automatic lookup service returns empty-handed. Red flag.

I answer, and the person with a thick, recognizable accent asks if I’m me by my first name.

Me: “Yeah.”

Scammer: “Okay. Hello, sir. How are you? I am calling on behalf of [unintelligible] crypto wallet website. It appears that your wallet has been locked due to inactivity.”

Me: “Okay?”

Scammer: “The wallet contains cryptocurrency valued at about $1,000, and I want to make sure you can access your funds.”

While he is talking, I contemplate my options and opt to test a new response I’ve been playing with.

Me: “Nah, it’s okay, it can just sit there. I don’t need it.”

Scammer: “You don’t care about $1,000?”

Me: “No, it’s peanuts. I got plenty of funds. I’ll just let it sit and see what happens. I can unlock it later.”

The scammer immediately shifts from his “professional” approach.

Scammer: “Well, if you have so many funds, why not give it to me?”

Me: “You’re with the wallet company? Didn’t you want to get me access to my funds?”

Scammer: “Yes, I am, but if you won’t bother to spend fifteen minutes to verify your identity for $1,000, why not give it to me?”

Suddenly, I realize a great opportunity!

Me: “Fifteen minutes?! I’ll lose more money during that time than it’s worth! You know what? You’re right. Just take it and close the account. I don’t care.”

Scammer: “I can’t do that! You have to log on to this website and verify before I can take any action on your wallet!”

Me: “You work for them; I’m sure you know a way to do it. I am telling you right now, you have my verbal consent to just take the funds. Bye!”

Scammer: “No, I ne—”

Me: *Click*

I hope he thinks about this call for a few days. I am definitely using this again!

I asked a temp at work:

Me: “Can you weigh a couple of lever arch files for postage?”

She came back.

Temp: “They are 65 kg.”

(That’s 143.3 pounds.)

Me: “Is it possible that it’s 6.5 kg?”

Temp: “No, 65 kg.”

We argued about it for a few minutes.

Me: “How much do you weigh?”

Temp: “60 kg… Oh.”

It finally twigged that these two small folders couldn’t possibly weigh more than her.