A Giant Window Into His Sense Of Humor

, , , , , , , | Working | July 11, 2018

(It is my first week with a pretty nice restaurant. I learn quickly that my boss likes to joke around with a serious face so he can get people. I live up too true to my blonde hair.)

Me: “Hey, [Boss]! Where do I put the extra silverware? The bucket is too full.”

Boss: *completely serious face* “Oh, just take it upstairs. We have extra bins up there.”

Me: “We have an upstairs?!”

(Cue laughter from the boss and nearby coworkers who are listening. Now, fast forward a couple of hours, and it happens again)

Me: “[Boss], it’s really hot in here; can’t you turn the air down?”

Boss: “No, it stays on that setting, but here. Do this: open that window behind you.”

(This is a huge window, from ceiling to halfway to the floor, and stretches my height at least twice; I’m 5’9”. Pretty obvious it doesn’t open, right?)

Me: “Whoa, wait. It opens? I didn’t know that was possible!”

Boss: *stares at me for a moment before bursting out laughing* “You’re too easy, [My Name]!”

Scare Me? Not A Ghost Of A Chance

, , , , , | Related | July 10, 2018

(I’m seven years old when the story takes place, and my family is going to a flea market, which I’ve never been to before. I’m kind of a crybaby at the time — I’m afraid of the dark, and burglars, and vampires, and monsters, and zombies, and curses, and a whole host of other things — so when my brother, twelve years old, notices me reading a book of kids’ ghost stories about a girl who gets a haunted doll, he figures it’s an easy hit.)

Brother: “Hey, [My Name]. You know we’re going to a flea market, right? That’s where you buy old stuff, and old stuff is way more likely to be haunted! By ghosts!”

(He’s expecting me to cry, and try to persuade our parents to go home. Instead, to his bafflement, my eyes light up.)

Me: “There might be ghosts?! That’s so cool! I’d love to have a ghost! It could hang out with me, and keep watch at night so no other monsters sneak up on me, and we could do magic tricks together, and I could introduce it to my friends, and no other girls at school have a ghost! Do you really think there’ll be stuff with ghosts? How can I find one?!”

Dad: “I think that sounds cool, [My Name]. [Brother], since it was your idea, why don’t you help her look?”

Mom: “That’s a good idea; you can spend the day helping your little sister look for ghosts.”

Me: “Yaaaay! You’re the best brother ever! Let’s go find ghosts! I want a ghost friend!”

(And that’s how my too-cool-for-this brother spent the day going up to random vendors with his hyper-enthusiastic seven-year-old sister, asking if they had any ghosts or haunted stuff for sale. I didn’t get a pet ghost, much to my disappointment, but he mostly stopped trying to scare me after that!)

Literally ROFL

, , , , , , , , | Working | July 4, 2018

Years ago, I was working at a bookstore with a cafe in it. I had always gotten along well with the cafe crew and liked to joke around with them. When the fad of drawing a mustache on your finger to hold up to your lip first became a thing, I thought they would get a kick out of it. One day, before my shift started, I went and stood in line in the cafe to get my drink, like I usually did, and when it was my turn at the register I smiled, held the drawn mustache up to my lip, and made my order.

My coworker let out a boisterous laugh, and then literally doubled over on the floor laughing. I was shocked at her reaction, as I was only expecting to get a chuckle out of her, not this kind of extreme response. I stood there embarrassed as the line of customers behind me was wondering what was happening. Another coworker in the cafe, upon seeing the cashier on the floor, let out a disgruntled sigh and stepped over her to come take my order, obviously annoyed with both of us. I sheepishly repeated my order, paid without a word, and stood to the side, red-faced and looking at the floor.

After that, I decided to cut back on horsing around with the cafe crew… At least where customers would be watching.

Wanted For Making Bad Jokes

, , , , , | Right | July 2, 2018

(I’m working the front counter at a fast food restaurant when a man approaches my register in a package delivery company uniform. I have three coworkers around me on other registers.)

Customer: “Hello! I’d like a #1 combo with a [soda].”

Me: “Okay, sir, can I g—”

Customer: “Hey, listen… You didn’t see the FBI come in here today, did you?”

Me: “No?”

Customer: “Or the US Marshals, or anything?”

Me: “No, I don’t believe so, sir.”

(I’m getting a bit concerned.)

Customer: “Well, if they do come, tell them I’m not here. I’m a wanted man, you know! Did you know that?”

Me: *wide eyed* “Um…”

Coworker #1: “Oh, [Customer]! Stop messing with her!”

Customer: “Messing with her? This is serious business!”

Coworker #2: “[Customer], you’re hysterical. We’ll let them know; don’t you worry.”

Me: *after the customer has left with his food* “What the hell was that?”

Coworker #3: “Oh, that’s [Customer]. He’s here pretty much every day in the morning. He’s late today, though; I guess you’ve always missed him. He likes to joke.”

Your Bad Joke Doesn’t Scan

, , , , | Right | June 22, 2018

(I’m a twenty-something woman who unfortunately looks much younger, and I’m infamous for my innocence regarding life in general. I have just been hired at a very well-known grocery store that sells everything under the sun. It’s really late and quiet, and I’m cashiering the only lane that sells cigarettes. The nearest cashier to me is a good seven lanes away. Suddenly I see two boys in their late teens literally push a younger teenage boy — who is holding something behind his back — into my line and run off. Immediately suspicious, I prepare myself for a problem.)

Me: “How can I help you?”

Kid: “Uh, well… I just wanted to buy something.”

Me: “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Anything I can help you with?”

(The kid gets really, really nervous and suddenly plops a small box onto the conveyor belt. It’s some sort of medicine or something, unfamiliar to me, but it doesn’t prompt for a “see ID,” so I ring it up without fanfare. The kid just stares at me. It’s getting awkward, so I hurry the transaction along.)

Me: “That’ll be [price].”

Kid: “Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Me: “Uh… Should I be?”

Kid: “Like… that I’m buying this. And only this. And we’re young, and alone, and you’re a girl.”

Me: “I… What?”

(Kind of confused and creeped out at the same time, I kind of smile and nod, then repeat the price. I can hear his friends on the other side of the register lane trying not to laugh.)

Kid: *suddenly throws up his hands and marches toward the exit doors, leaving the box with me* “DANG IT, GUYS! I TOLD YOU IT WOULDN’T BE FUNNY! I’M NEVER LISTENING TO YOU AGAIN!”

(Cue boisterous laughter from the other two guys as they ran after him. I just stood there, realizing that I was a part of a joke, but desperately confused. Joke’s on them I guess, as I had no idea what the product they were buying was! My manager popped up right then to tell me to take a break, and I was never more happy to do so.)

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