No Shrimping Violet

, , , , | Right | April 6, 2018

(A server returns a dish sent back by a customer, who says she knows the shrimp isn’t cooked because it is pink. I return the shrimp to a pan to sauté it until there is a slightly golden-brown edge to the already-cooked shrimp. I take it out to the customer myself.)

Me: “Here you are, ma’am. Sorry it wasn’t to your liking. I cooked it longer for you. But so you know, that shrimp was completely cooked through and will come out like that in the future.”

Customer: “Are you sure? I mean, when I cook shrimp it turns white.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m absolutely sure. I can make you something else if you prefer, but I can’t cook the shrimp any more than it is.”

Customer: “It’s just that I’ve never had cooked shrimp that was pink before.”

Me: “Oh, I’ve never had cooked shrimp that wasn’t pink.”

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Chairing This Situation

, , , , , | Learning | March 23, 2018

Many years ago, I was in eighth grade and we had a yearly event for that grade that was basically a picnic. We had group projects to work on, so to be nice to the other people in my group, I brought folding chairs for us to sit on outside while we ate.

The teachers called all the students up to get our food, and when I got back to our spot, all four of my chairs were gone. I was pissed and went around asking for my chairs back. Two kids gave them up with no issue. Two other boys told me I’d just have to wait until they were done with them. When I pointed out that my (very girly) name was written on each chair they dismissed me and told me to get lost. Fed up, I did the only logical thing; I walked behind them and dumped them on their butts in the grass, taking my chairs back to my spot.

While I was eating lunch, a teacher came up to ask me if I had stolen some chairs from some boys. I calmly told her that, no, they were my chairs, and they had stolen them from me.

We all got sent to the principal’s office. When it finally came my turn, the principal looked at me and asked, “Who are you? I’ve never met you before.” She commended me on standing up for myself, but said I should have gotten a teacher to help. I pointed out that they were all busy and that none had been available. She gave all three of us detention. Guess who was the only one who showed up? The office worker who oversaw detention felt badly for me, so I got to watch videos on a spare computer and have some pizza that had been bought for the staff. I later learned that the two boys I’d dumped in the grass were detention regulars, and I was apparently the “nicest kid they’d had in detention.”

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Got A Different Reading Of The Situation

, , , , , , , | Learning | March 22, 2018

I have always been an avid reader, and always took a book with me to school because I rode the bus.

One day in my social studies class, we had a test. Half of the class time was set aside for the test, and I finished fairly quickly. Figuring I could put my time to good use, I pulled out my book and quietly started reading.

A minute later, my teacher was next to me berating me for reading in class. He said that it was test time and to put the book away. I apologized and then did what any book lover would do: I put the book under my desk and read it from there.

I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, being told not to read in school.

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Fire In The Dungeon! Thought You Ought To Know

, , , , , | Learning | March 14, 2018

(The home economics teacher is known for not teaching much; instead, she talks gossip about her family. Her cooking is horrible, so I don’t mind. One morning she has just finished putting something in the oven to clean it and resumes her usual gossip. I tend to zone out and nap, since it’s first period and I’m still tired. Out of the corner of my eye, I see color and think I’m dreaming. I realize it’s a fire in the oven. I lazily raise my hand.)

Me: “Ms. [Teacher]?”

Teacher: “Hush, [My Name]. Don’t be rude while others are speaking.”

Me: *still pretty drowsy* “Okay, just thought you’d like to know the oven is on fire.”

(She screams, and I think she’s running for the extinguisher, but she takes a sharp right and hides in the closet. Everyone stands up and scrambles. I get up, grab the extinguisher, open the oven with my foot, and put the fire out.)

Me: “I probably shouldn’t have opened it like that, huh? It’s out, though.”

(My classmate runs up to me. He’s a six-foot-tall football player that flirts by being a complete a** to me.)

Classmate: “Are you high?! You’re supposed to yell, ‘Fire!’ Not casually point at it!”

Me: “You literally just screamed like a five-year-old girl, and the teacher is in the closet. I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you.’”

(From then on, everybody thought I was a pothead and laughed at my nonchalance about the fire. For the record, I wasn’t; I have sleep disorders, so I am always tired. The teacher wouldn’t make eye contact with me after that.)

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Complaining Incidentally

, , , | Right | March 6, 2018

(When you check in to our hotel, your card authorizes for the full amount of your stay, PLUS an additional amount — usually about 20% of the stay total — to cover any incidental charges. This is only an authorization, not a charge, and if you don’t make any incidental purchases during your stay, the extra amount will be returned to you. Many guests have issues with this.)

Guest: “I want to know why I was overcharged!”

Me: “Overcharged, ma’am? By how much?”

(I’m already pretty sure this is about the incidental authorization.)

Guest: “[Amount]!”

Me: “I see. Looking at your reservation, that is just a small additional authorization to cover any incidental charges. It will be put back on your card when you check out.”

Guest: “Well, I had a specific amount in mind for this stay, and now my card is overdrawn! Someone should have told me!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, as you can see—” *pointing to a sign six inches to my right* “—on every check-in desk we have a sign that clearly states our policy on incidental charges.”

(The guest frowns, clearly more upset now about the fact that I have had a response to her complaint than  about the charge on her card.)

Guest: *sniffily* “Well, don’t you think someone should have pointed it out to me?”

Me: “Er… Pointing it out to every guest kind of defeats the purpose of having a sign.”

Guest: “Someone should have pointed it out to me!” *stalks off*

(As it turns out, pretty much everyone at the front desk had had some kind of run-in with this guest, and she always has some new complaint!)

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