Dressing Up The Problem

, , , , , , | Related | November 2, 2017

Because of the layout of our house at the time, [Brother #1] had to walk through my bedroom, which used to be [Brother #2]’s before he moved abroad, in order to get to his. It was the middle of summer. [Brother #2] was visiting, and our parents were away on holiday, leaving just the three of us. I was lying in bed one morning when [Brother #1] returned from the shower. Wearing only his boxers, he proceeded to throw a towel around his shoulders like a cape, exclaim that he was Superman, and run around my room making “woosh” noises for a solid minute. He was 20 at the time.

I also had a problem with the both of them using my room as a meeting and dressing room, especially while they were getting ready for work in the mornings, which I was reminded of a few months ago: My father, in the process of changing out of his work outfit, entered my room in just his boxers and socks to ask me a question.

My mother only sighed when I asked her why none of the boys in the house would get dressed in their own rooms.

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These Guests Can Be Draining

, , , | Right | October 24, 2017

(I am starting my shift as a receptionist at the local hotel. I get a call from one of the rooms.)

Guest: *shouting* “Our sink is clogged! I find it horrible that you rent out such expensive rooms that are not properly maintained.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll have someone check it out right away.”

(I called around to see if anybody could go up and check it out, but everybody else was busy. I had to run up a take a look myself. I got to the room and two angry women were waiting, muttering about the bad maintenance of our rooms and slow service. I went into the bathroom, took a quick look at the sink, and saw that they had not opened the drain using the very visible handle behind the tap. I pushed the handle and voila! The water ran out. I then looked at them and bit my tongue to avoid saying anything rude. They just looked embarrassed and said that they didn’t have drains like that where they came from. I left the room and continued my shift with a little less faith in humanity.)

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Your Skeletons Don’t Need To Be In The Closet

, , , , | Romantic | October 22, 2017

(My boyfriend is notorious for not noticing things in our living space. I have to put things right in front of him for him to notice, and even then it’s 50/50 chance he’ll react. I just put up a small picture of a character from a comic. A few minutes later he walks past it.)

Boyfriend: “Oh, I see you’ve put up a picture of [Character].”

Me: “Yes, I did. I’m surprised you noticed it this quickly.”

Boyfriend: “Why, has it been there long?”

Me: “No, I put it up like five minutes ago. But usually you never notice these things.”

Boyfriend: “Like what?”

Me: “The hedgehog figure I put in the window sill in our previous apartment? It took you weeks to notice it, and it wasn’t even that small or hidden away.”

Boyfriend: “That was just because I never looked at the window sill! Like, right now you could hide a dead body by the living room window and I wouldn’t notice because I never look that way!”

Me: “…Okay.”

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No Pods, Pads, Or Sense

, , , | Working | October 18, 2017

Customer: “Do you sell iPods?”

Coworker: *doesn’t quite hear* “Sorry, did you say iPods or iPads?”

Customer: “iPods.”

Coworker: “Sorry, we don’t sell those.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. But you have iPads?”

Coworker: “No, sorry. We don’t sell those.”

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That’s The Way The Kveldsmat Krumbles

, , , , , | Related | October 18, 2017

(My daughter is four years old and it is evening. All that remains is for her to brush her teeth and go to bed. She tries to stay up late by making up credible stuff to postpone the evening routine. I find it easier to call her bluff than arguing and trying to reason with her, because it ends in almost an hour of tears and sobbing. In Norway, we offer a small meal in the evening, and it often consists of a slice of bread with some kind of spreading or topping. We call it “kveldsmat” — evening food. On this day, we’ve had a late dinner and she declined kveldsmat 30 minutes earlier.)

Daughter: “I’m hungry. Can I have some kveldsmat?”

Me: “If you’re really hungry, we have to go downstairs and eat, but we can’t watch TV because it’s evening now.”

Daughter: “I’m so hungry that I need to have some grapes.”

(Our rule is that she can eat fruit upstairs, but other food must be eaten at the dinner table. She clearly wants to keep watching TV and postpone bed time by eating her grapes VERY slowly, then demanding more when she is still hungry.)

Me: *repeats myself* “Are you ready to go downstairs and eat, or shall we just brush your teeth right away?”

Daughter: “I’m ready. I want to go downstairs and eat.”

(We go downstairs and end up discussing the topping on her slice of bread.)

Me: “Are you sure you want to have butter and brown cheese?” *Norwegian thing, quite tasty*

Daughter: “Yes. And cut it into pieces.”

Me: *prepares the food and cuts it in four*

Daughter: *picks off the brown cheese* “I don’t want this. Take it off.”

Me: “Oh? But you said you wanted it.”

Daughter: “But I don’t like it now…”

Me: “Okay, but just take off the one on this piece and leave the rest. You can pick them off once you’ve eaten the first piece of bread.”

Daughter: *enters defiant-play mode and picks off the brown cheese of two pieces*

Me: *leaves the one piece of bread and moves the plate out of her reach* “Eat that one, then you can take off the rest. Just one at the time.”

Daughter: “Nooooooooo! I want to pick it!

Me: *not taking the bait* “You said you were hungry. You said you wanted brown cheese, and you were only allowed take off the brown cheese on one piece. Eat the one right there, and we can go brush your teeth.”

Daughter: “I’m not hungry!”

Me: “You said you were hungry, and you wanted to go downstairs. You don’t get anything else to eat until breakfast tomorrow. Eat this one and we’re done.”

Daughter: “Two bites?”

Me: “All of it.”

(She ate three bites of that quarter of a slice of bread before declaring herself full again, then went happily back upstairs to proceed the evening routine. She effectively postponed it seven minutes, rather than crying herself to sleep because she didn’t get to eat when she asked.)

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