Aisle Be Watching The Kids

, , , , | Right | January 20, 2019

(Where I work, we used to have daycare where you could dump your kid off and grocery shop around the store, then pick the kid up after you were done shopping. By the time I start working at the store, the daycare thing isn’t there anymore, so most people just keep their kids with them and it isn’t needed. Some people don’t know that it’s closed, and still try to leave their kids there. I am working by the counter when a lady with a baby carriage comes by.)

Lady: “Excuse me. I found this baby alone in the aisle.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Lady: “I found this baby in his carriage alone in the aisle. I looked for the parent but I couldn’t find them.”

Me: “I’ll go get my manager.”

(I go get the manager, who makes an announcement on the speaker. The lady waits with us, and calms down the baby when he starts to get fussy. After twenty minutes, another lady leaving the checkout with groceries comes over.)

Mother: “Oh, so this is where they took you. I thought I left him at the daycare?”

Manager: “We don’t have a daycare anymore.”

Mother: “You don’t? Oh, well, at least you watched him.”

(The lady who found him decides she doesn’t like how she said that and blows up.)

Lady: “How dare you leave a child in the middle of an aisle, without checking to make sure it all right?! I should call child services on you!”

(The mother decides it’s the best time to leave and speeds out of there with her baby. After she leaves, the lady calms down and apologizes for her outburst.)

Lady: “Sorry. I have kids at home and I hate when parents do that to their kids.”

(We just nodded. The lady left to go back to her grocery shopping, and I went back to doing my job.)

Making A Mammoth-Sized Mistake

, , , , , | Right | January 17, 2019

(I manage the children’s section of a bookstore, where we also sell stuffed animals. I am putting some books away when a little boy of about four or five excitedly grabs a stuffed woolly mammoth from the display.)

Boy: “Elephant!”

Me: *cheerfully* “Actually, that’s a woolly mammoth!”

(He pauses and side-eyes me, looking between me and the toy like he’s not sure he believes me.)

Boy: “Elephant?”

Me: “Mammoth. See? It has fur.”

(Still skeptical, the boy goes to where his mom is browsing and tugs on her sleeve.)

Boy: “Mommy, is this an elephant or a mammoth?”

Mother: *glances down* “Elephant.”

(I hope that kid gets sent to a good school.)

Technically It’s Bee Vomit, But It’s Still Sweet

, , , , , , | Romantic | January 15, 2019

(My parents rarely show romantic affection towards one another, particularly out in public. We’re all in the family SUV, and we’ve just gone through the drive-thru at a fast food place when I notice my order’s not right.)

Me: “Oh, geez, they forgot the honey for my chicken nuggets.”

Dad: *pats Mom’s leg* “I’ve got my honey right here.”

Mom: “Aw, you’re so sweet!”

Dad: “Just like you; you’re my sweet bee s***.”

Getting To The Guts Of The Show

, , , , , | Related | January 14, 2019

(I am living back home with my mother after my divorce. Our bedrooms are right next to each other, and we have our own TVs. I’m a horror buff, while she prefers crime dramas — CSI, Law & Order, etc. — and shuns anything remotely gory. This exchange happens as we’re shouting to each other between rooms.)

Character On Crime Drama: “The victim was eviscerated…”

Mom: “Hey, [My Name], what does ‘eviscerated’ mean?”

Me: “Gutted like a fish!”

Mom: “Okay, thanks!” *changes channel quickly*

Meeting The Family Went By In A Haze

, , , , , , | Related | January 12, 2019

(My relationship with my current girlfriend has progressed to the point that I feel comfortable introducing her to my family over dinner. In the days leading up to the meeting, I run around cleaning most of the house — nothing too major, just touch-ups mostly. However, I elect to leave the back hall untouched, despite it being separated from the kitchen by only a door, for two reasons. First, it’s the winter. There are only two reasons anyone, besides my father, would go into the back hall: to get something out of the refrigerator or to go outside. So long as I get all of her drinks and we make sure there are no emergencies necessitating an evacuation, she’ll have no reason to go into the back hall. Second, my father would muck it up five minutes later. He’s a carpenter, and since the hall is mostly unused, it’s become his storage area for materials. It’s never organized, always changing, always a wreck, but has never been a safety hazard, so I don’t bother cleaning it. The day of the meeting, I finish work and then bring her home. My mother intended to do the cooking, but upon my return is immediately more interested in interrogating my girlfriend, so I take over the cooking. Before my mother can get to discussing anything more than my girlfriend’s job, or even make a snide remark, I try to remove her from the situation.)

Me: “Mom, how about you get us some drinks from the fridge? Between our car ride and you working all day, I’m sure we’re all thirsty.”

Mother: “Oh, sure. What would you like?”

(She stands up and crosses to the back hall. I intend to use this moment to start a conversation and try to refocus her energy. However, just as she opens the door:)

Mother: “Wow! Who cleaned the back hall?”

(My mortification chases away any conversation ideas I had. My mother’s tone is getting less friendly, and I’m still without any ideas. As if in answer to my prayers, the front door opens and my brother walks in.)

Me: “[Brother]! How was work?”

Brother: “Just fine.” *notices my girlfriend* “Who’s this?”

Me: “[Girlfriend]. The one I mentioned would be joining us for dinner tonight.”

Brother: “Oh, yeah! Chinese food, every Thursday! We love those leftovers [My Name] brings home!”

(During this rant about how my family swipes all of our leftover date food, he crosses the kitchen, evidently hoping to get a drink.)

Brother: “We were all excited, and you go and ask for pizza fro— Who cleaned the back hall?”

(So, now, my brother’s not my buffer. Lacking any other ideas, I throw the dice.)

Me: “So… where are [Sister] and [Father]?”

Mother: “Your father’s downstairs working on something, and your sister’s still asleep.”

Brother: *glances the clock and notices it’s nearly five* “That’s got to be some hangover!”

Me: *fighting every urge to beat up my brother* “How about you two go get them and let them meet [Girlfriend]?”

(Thankfully, that works. They disperse almost immediately. I’m too ashamed to look anywhere but the stove, or to say anything, so there’s dead silence until my brother and sister enter the kitchen.)

Sister: “If it’s not ready yet, then why the f*** am I up?” *notices my girlfriend* “And who the f*** are you?”

Brother: “It’s [Mangling of Girlfriend’s Name], [My Name]’s girl. She’s staying for dinner.”

Sister: “Oh.”

(That’s right. No greeting. No apology. Nothing. She just walks across the kitchen like nothing happened.)

Sister: “Who cleaned the back hall?”

(Once she comes back with a beer in each hand, my parents come up the stairs, oblivious to the double-homicide that should have happened.)

Me: “It’s almost ready, Dad. How about you say hello to [Girlfriend] while we wait?”

Father: “Sure, just let me get a drink. Oh, hey! Did you all see how great I cleaned the back hall?”

(And so starts the first meal with my family. The only remaining thing I can post at all is what happens when my father sees how uncomfortable my mother’s questions are making me.)

Father: “So, since you’re all old enough to drink now, I figure you’re old enough for the dirty jokes!”

(No matter how dirty the jokes got, I couldn’t even blush hard enough to pass out. And after taking her home and yelling at my family for an hour, I was able to confirm this was not some form of hazing. Two miracles have since occurred. The first, my family has not been murdered. The second, that girl somehow agreed to marry me.)

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