(Being a funeral home, we get a lot of prank calls. This is a frequent call.)
Me: “Good afternoon, [Funeral Home]. This is [My Name]. How may I help you?”
Caller: “Is this the line with the girls?”
Me: “Pardon?”
Caller: “The line to talk to the girls. I have something here that’s eight inches long and two inches thick.”
Me: “I’m sorry, sir. We only handle one type of stiff here.”
(I work at an answering service for flower shops. Occasionally, I work the late shift and get prank callers. I can tell these particular callers are a bunch of teens that sound a little high.)
Me: “Thank you for calling [Flower Shop]. How may I help you?”
Teen: “Yeah… I need to order some flowers.”
(It’s obvious immediately due to his friends giggling in the background.)
Me: “All right, I’ll be glad to help you with that. What kind of flowers would you like to order?”
Teen: “Well…” *giggles* “What do you got?”
Me: “I have a lovely bouquet of roses.”
Teen: “Yeah, I’ll get that.”
Me: “Great! What color?”
Teen: “Uh…” *whispers* “Red.”
Me: “Okay, so, that’s a dozen white roses.”
Teen: “Uh…” *whispers to his friends, giggles* “Yeah.”
Me: “Wonderful, would you like those tulips in a vase?”
Teen: “Huh? Uh… Wait… What?”
Me: “In a vase?”
Teen: “Oh.” *whispers, giggling* “Yeah, yeah…”
Me: “Great! So, that is two dozen blue daffodils in a box. Can I have your name?”
Teen: *click*
(I just sipped my coffee and waited for the next call.)
Many years ago, when I am in high school, I join my local volunteer first aid squad and sign up for EMT training. The classes are largely interesting, and I learn a lot. However, EMTs have a strange sense of humor sometimes.
When we get to the maternity section, the final exam for that part of the course consists of delivering a baby. This is accomplished with a set of special dummies: one which is made to replicate the lower body of a woman, and of course, the infant doll which the instructor pushes out for the person to deliver. The proper procedure is to “catch” the infant as it comes out, clean it gently, and then lay it on the mother’s chest for her to hold.
All is going well in the exam, the students having been broken up into groups and assigned to the dummy on which they will take the exam… until, that is, one of the instructors quietly goes around the room, collecting all of the infant dummies and secreting them away.
At this point, only one group is still testing, as there are no baby dummies to be had anywhere else. One young man approaches to begin his test, and the instructor who’d been taking the dummies steps up to administer it…
And proceeds to begin screaming at the top of his lungs.
The instructor is wailing like he’s being murdered, which, of course, causes the entire room to look over at what is going on. Never breaking his cry, he begins to push the infant doll through. The poor student is terrified, but he still follows procedure admirably.
But the instructor doesn’t stop screaming.
Not sure what to do, the boy is standing there when another infant starts to come out. So he catches that one, too. Then, the next one. And the one after that. Each time they come faster and faster. It looks like an “I Love Lucy” routine as the poor boy is struggling to catch the dolls, clean them, and place them before the next one comes. It’s to the point where he is stacking the babies like logs on the “mother” because there is no room for them, and he barely manages to put one down before the next one is out.
All the while, the instructor never stops wailing.
The rest of the class is, of course, cracking up. We’re all laughing so hard we can’t breathe. The poor student is handling it admirably, though, never giving up or getting mad. Finally, about two dozen babies later, the instructor runs out of dummies. The test is allowed to end, and the instructor ceases screaming.
The student does pass the exam, but he is admonished that in the future he probably shouldn’t stack newborn infants like Jenga blocks.
(My boyfriend and I are customers at a convenience store. The cashier, who is a family friend of my boyfriend’s and is on friendly terms with us, has just finished ringing us up when she gets a phone call.)
Cashier: “Thank you for calling [Store]!”
(She listens for a moment and, as she does so, her face becomes increasingly more confused.)
Cashier: “Your… donuts had no holes in them?”
(She listens for another moment, a skeptical look on her face, before hanging up.)
Cashier: “I hope I don’t get in trouble for hanging up on them! It was a prank call. They said their donuts’ holes weren’t big enough!”
(I stay with my grandma most summers while my father works. I’m about eight years old, watching TV inside, and Grandma is outside working on her truck. Her landline phone rings.)
Me: *loudly through the open door* “Grandma! The phone is ringing!”
Grandma: “I’ve got oil on my hands; can you answer it and tell them I’ll be right there?”
Me: “Hello–“
Caller: *shouting* “You’re in so much trouble! You oughta be ashamed of yourself! I’m gonna call the sheriff on you and you’re gonna get arrested! And go to jail!“
(I hang up and burst into tears just as my grandma walks in.)
Grandma: “Honey, what happened? Why are you crying?”
Me: *blubbering* “The man on the phone was yelling at meeeee! He— He said he was gonna send me to jaaaaaail!”
(The phone rings again and Grandma snatches it off the receiver.)
Grandma: “Who is… [Grandma’s Brother]? Oh, Lord, do you have any idea what you just did, you idiot?”
(Turns out, Grandma’s brother, who lived nearby, noticed he was driving behind Grandma’s truck earlier in the day and that she had a tail light out. He figured he’d call his little sister up and “threaten” to call the sheriff — the sheriff at the time being their older brother. And the reason he was yelling into the phone? He was half-deaf at that point and too stubborn to wear his hearing aids. It took Grandma ten minutes to get me to stop crying, and I didn’t answer her phone again for a month!)
