It Takes Teeth To Stand In The Wrong Line

, , , , , | Right | April 24, 2019

This happened about ten years ago when my husband and I went to the bank with our son, who was quite young and in a stroller. Our bank is one block long and very narrow, with a door on both ends to the street. They have one line that starts near the Third Street door; when you get almost to the Second Street door, you exit the line to go to the next available teller.

While my husband waited in the line I waited beside it, matching his pace so we could chat, since the stroller is a little wide for the lines. When it was his turn, I went past the line to stand near the Second Street door, while he went to the teller at the end closest to the Second Street door, so I was standing about five feet away from him, waiting for him to finish banking so we could leave.

An older man came into the bank from Second Street as we were approaching the teller and stood just past me, just standing there. The teller serving my husband motioned to the line for him and asked him to go stand in the line if he needed service. He declined, saying that this line was shorter, and continued standing there. The teller explained that this wasn’t a line, that I wasn’t banking — she confirmed it with me, as well — and that if he needed banking service he needed to go get in the line at the other end of the bank. Again he declined, as “this line” was shorter. As my husband finished banking and walked over to me to leave, the older man tried to go to the teller, and she again told him he needed to stand in line, and she called the next person over. As he was ranting about how he had waited in the short line and it should be his turn, my husband turned to him and said, “That line was the line waiting to go to the dentist. The line to get banking done starts over there. If you want to go to the dentist with us, now is the time; if you want to do banking go stand in the proper line.”

The old man actually started walking over to wait in line as we were leaving.

Unfiltered Story #147758

, , | Unfiltered | April 24, 2019

A customer comes into the store  around 2:30pm with her two children, and looks at the empty pizza slice machine.

Customer: Oh….Do you you not sell pizzas by the slice?
Me: Unfortunately, we don’t sell any slices after 2.
Customer: So if I wanted pizza, I would have to buy an entire one?
Me: I’m afraid so.
*Suddenly, her son walks up to the counter, and puffs out his chest.*
Son: Let me take care of this.
*Looks at me dead in the eye.*
Son: Ahem. Is it possible, to get just TWO slices of pizza?
Me: *Staring silently as I try to keep from responding sarcastically*
Both the Mom and Me: ….No.
Son: Aww…*walks away dejectedly*

It’s A Karma Lottery

, , , , , , , | Right | April 23, 2019

A woman came in and asked for a $2 lottery ticket. Without thinking, I printed one that included a bonus lottery for an extra dollar bringing the cost to $3. I realized I made a mistake and asked her if she would still like to buy the ticket. She launched into a tirade about my incompetence, today’s society, lazy youth, etc., and stormed out of the store. A man standing behind her said, “I’ll take that,” put down $3, and walked out.

A few days later, that man walked into the store, checked his ticket, and found out that he’d won $250. That same day, the disgruntled woman came into the store, checked her ticket, saw that she’d won $10, and proceeded to tell me that I almost cost her $10 and that I should make more of an effort to listen and use my brain.

I just nodded and smiled.

Yes, But Who Has Been Captured By Who?

, , , , , , | Related | April 22, 2019

(My daughter is walking about cuddling her kitten, appropriately named Nemesis.)

Daughter: “Mom, why does Nemesis love me?”

(Before I can answer, her 12-year-old brother interjects dryly:)

Son: “Stockholm Syndrome.”

Jello Comes In Strawberry, Orange, Pain, And Grape

, , , , , , | Related | April 22, 2019

(When I am about five years old, my mother makes Jello for dessert. I think I can get away with sneaking some before dinner. It is rather obvious when it comes time to serve it.)

Dad: “Okay, who got into the Jello?”

(My brothers and I remain silent until the threat of not having any comes up.)

Me: “I did.”

Dad: “You’ve got a choice: you can watch us eat ours and not have any, or you can have some and then get punished.”

Me: *without hesitation* “I’ll have some of the Jello.”

(Thirty years later, Dad still brings it up.)

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