Police Work Is Child’s Play, Part 2

, , , , , | Working | December 27, 2013

(I am in a retail store with my boyfriend looking for something for my 25th birthday. We are holding hands most of the time. At the till, I see a cashier watching us.)

Cashier: “Okay. That’s $10.” *my boyfriend pays* “Thanks.”

Me: “[Boyfriend], I feel tired. Can we go to the car?”

Boyfriend: “Yeah. Of course, sweetie.”

(He goes. I see the cashier smiling at me.)

Cashier: “You want to buy anything else? Make-up? Music CDs? There’s some skinny jeans 70 percent off.”

Me: “No, thanks. My boyfriend and I just want to go.”

Cashier: “Boyfriend?”

Me: “Yeah?” *nervous* “Are you hitting on me?”

Cashier: *alarmed* “No! No.”

(I think nothing of it. A little way down the street I see a police car behind us. My boyfriend pulls over and to our surprise, the car stops behind us.)

Boyfriend: “Is the tail-light out?”

Officer #1: “Sir, could you step out, please?”

Boyfriend: *confused* “Sure.”

Officer #2: *to me* “I just need your name, miss.”

Me: “What’s going on? I promise, we weren’t drinking or anything, I just want to know why my boyfriend’s been pulled over.”

Officer #2: “It’s nothing to worry about. You’re safe.”

Me: “Wait, what—”

Officer #3: “[Officer #1]!”

(I see out the rear mirror the officer has picked up our shopping. Inside the shopping bag are magazines, both fashion and car, alcohol, little packets of cookies, cookie mix, and condoms. Also inside are some birthday candles, which the officer is holding. I hear the first officer shout at my boyfriend, but I can hardly work any out.)

Officer #1: “YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE, MISTER! Get in the car now!”

Boyfriend: “Look, I…”

Officer #1: “DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU’RE IN? I’m taking your phone and when we get to your house. We’re taking your laptop and any other evidence at the house. We also need to contact this girl’s parents. If they’re covering for you, that’s sick.”

Me: *to [Officer #2]* “What’s going on? Why is he being arrested? Has he done something?”

Officer #2: “It’s okay now, [My Name]. I need to ask you some questions. They may not be nice, but I need an answer.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I see my boyfriend being taken in the police car and driven away. I begin to get tense and play with my hair.)

Officer #2: “When’s your birthday?”

Me: “[Date].”

Officer #2: “How old are you going to be?”

Me: “Milestone birthday.”

Officer #2: “Okay, milestone. So what? 13? 16? 18?”

Me: “What? 25!”

Officer #2: “25!” *talks in radio* “Er, [Officer #1], we kind of need to talk.”

Me: *beginning to realize* “Oh, my God. Look. I can prove it! Here’s my driver’s license. My parents have a ton of photos at home of me in the last five years, and I got my graduate certificate somewhere… Just… who reported it?”

Officer #2: “A cashier. We got a picture of some girl aged eleven to sixteen, hard to tell in that bomber jacket, being taken out by a man in his late twenties, early thirties. Plus, what we found in the shopping bag…”

Me: “Oh, God. I feel soooo bad.”

(My boyfriend was released from the cells soon after. A couple of days later, I turned 25. I have to say, it was the most embarrassing part of remembering how old I really am!)


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When Live Wires Get Their Wires Crossed

, , , , | Working | February 13, 2013

(I’m the only female on the electrics crew for a summer theater company. During this time, the company stays in the dorms at a nearby university. The company works in an old, somewhat converted barn that is locked up all winter and is extremely unclean and hazardous when the theater company arrives in the summer. On this day, my crew is removing lighting instruments from our closet and scrubbing rust off of them with steel wool and rubbing alcohol.)

Master Electrician: *screams like a little girl, jumps up, and runs to the other side of the barn/theater*

Me: “What?! What’s wrong?”


Me: “What?”

Master Electrician: “There’s a black widow!”

(Reminder: everybody else on this crew are men. I start over toward the area where the master electrician has seen this spider.)

Master Electrician: “Oh, my God! What are you doing?!”

Me: “I figured I’d kill it.”

(At this point I can see the small, BROWN spider and am going to step on it.)

Master Electrician: *high-pitched scream* “No! DON’T DON’T DON’T! Don’t! It’ll get in the tread of your boot and it’ll end up in my room and it’ll kill me!”

(Our rooms literally couldn’t be further apart; we’re in different wings on different floors.)

Me: “I seriously don’t think that’s going to happ— What the f*** are you doing?!”

([Master Electrician] has come back towards the spider, brandishing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cigarette lighter.)

Me: “We’re in a barn! Don’t even think about setting that spider on fire!”

Master Electrician: “BUT IT HAS TO DIE!”

(I grab his lighter away from him and grind the spider to death with the toe of my boot.)

Master Electrician: “That was so stupid and reckless! What’s wrong with you?!”

(I am pleased to report that the common brown spider did not morph into a black widow, did not stow away in the tread of my boots, did not go back to the dorms with us, and did not traverse the building to kill the master electrician in his sleep. Sadly, the master electrician who tried to set a spider on fire is still a certified electrician, licensed to wire people’s homes.)

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This Troll Should Have Stuck At Home

, , , , , | Right | August 6, 2012

(There is a large anime convention at our hotel. During these conventions, many guests dress up as their favorite characters. Some even go all-out and will wear body paint or mascot suits, carry fake weapons, etc. Even during these conventions, non-convention goers stay in the hotel. I am working the front desk and am approached by a very angry guest.)

Me: “How may I help you today?”

Guest: “Kick these d***ed freaks out of this hotel! They’re disturbing my children!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am. The event is already going on, and all of these people have paid to attend.”

Guest: “They’re disturbing my children! They have weapons! They’re dangerous freaks!”

Me: “We wouldn’t allow real weapons on the convention floor. All weapons have been checked, and all of them are props. I can assure you that no one here will harm your children with their weapons.”

Guest: “You’re lying! You’re just covering up for this… cult! It’s a cult of dangerous freaks with weapons!”

Me: “Ma’am, there is no cult activity.”

Guest: “If it’s not a cult, then why are they painted grey? And why are they wearing devil horns? They’re the headmasters of the cult!” *motions to a nearby group in costume*

Me: “They’re in costumes. This is an anime convention. Many people dress up in costumes. That group is dressed up as characters from [Popular Webcomic]. They’re not a cult.”

Guest: “You’re lying! They’re a devil-worshiping cult! They’re going to wait until midnight, then sacrifice all the virgins to Satan!”

Me: “Actually, the only thing happening at midnight tonight is the convention’s dance.”

Guest: “A dance with the devil! You even admitted it! They’re a cult of devil-worshipers!”

Me: “I never said that.”

Guest: “And them, over there! In the animal costumes!” *motions to a group of people in mascot suits* “They’re going to perform strange sex acts on innocent people at the cult meeting tonight! How dare you let this happen?!”

Me: “Ma’am, if you would listen to me—”

(There is now a long line of people waiting to be helped behind her, most of whom look upset with the way this guest is talking.)

Guest: *turns around to the people in line* “Don’t check into this hotel! They let crazy cults of devil-worshippers bring weapons in to sacrifice virgins and then have sex!” *runs off*

Next Guest in line: “…Heh. Normal people are funny. Can I please have some extra towels?”

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Self Serve And Self Deserved

, , , | Right | October 13, 2011

(I work at an all-you-can-eat buffet. My job is to bring drinks to the table and take away the dirty plates.)

Me: “Welcome to [Restaurant]! I’ll go ahead and get your drinks. The buffet is ready when you are.”

Customer #1: “Thanks!”

(I bring their drinks to the table and see that they are still there and have not gotten up to get their plates. I go about my business. About 10 minutes later, I see they are still sitting at their table with no food in front of them.)

Me: “Are you waiting on someone?”

Customer #1: “There you are! We’re starving! I’ll start off with chicken, corn, and mashed potatoes.”

Me: “Okay, well, the buffet is over there and you can help yourself.”

Customer #1: “You mean we have to get it ourselves?”

Customer #2: “Can’t you get our food for us?”

Me: “Are you disabled?”

Customer #1: “No, we’re not.”

Me: “The buffet is self-serve. The plates are up at the buffet.”

(Needless to say, I didn’t get a tip.)

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