Backed Herself Into A Back Problem

, , , , , , , , , | Related | December 15, 2017

My mother told me this story recently. My grandmother — an intractable, stubborn, and often vicious family matriarch if ever there was one — died not long ago and we were telling stories about her. This one made me laugh long and loud.

My grandmother was forever causing arguments with women in the family. She was determined to make sure that all the females in the family knew she was boss, end of story. The men, however, could do no wrong, especially my father, who was truly the apple of her eye.

My mother got into an argument with her. I had just been born — Mum and Dad’s first — and Mum was still getting used to me, and getting me into a routine of feeding and sleeping. Of course, my grandmother knew all there was to know about new babies and was forever butting in and driving Mum mad. One of her favourite tricks was to arrive at the house, with almost clairvoyant timing, just as Mum had got me to sleep, and insist on waking me up so she could spend time with me. Mum said that, had we lived far away from her so she only saw us occasionally, she wouldn’t have minded, but [Grandmother] lived just down the road and saw us every day. One day after it had taken Mum forever to get me to sleep, she absolutely forbade [Grandmother] from waking me, and the usual fight ensued.

Usually, Dad did what he and all the other male members of the family did when their wives, sisters, or daughters clashed with [Grandmother]; they did their ostrich trick and buried their heads in the sand. This time however, Dad came down on Mum’s side. He didn’t go to visit her, though he usually had morning tea with her every day, so she took to her bed with “back problems.”

When he still didn’t go to visit her, she let it be known that she was now paralysed. Still Dad stuck to his guns and stayed away. Finally, she was at death’s door and Dad didn’t give in. This went on for three days, and on the fourth day when [Grandmother] saw, from her bedroom window, Dad strolling down the road, this pain-wracked, paralysed, nearly dead woman leapt from her bed, ran down the driveway and screamed, “[Dad]! How dare you?! I am in agonising pain, I cannot move, and you ignore me! Ignore my suffering! What kind of son are you? Well, I’ll be dead in a day or so, and you and [Mum] will live with the knowledge that you caused it!”

My dad pointed out that she was standing on her own two feet, in her nightie, in the middle of the road. If she wanted this act of hers to really work, she would have to get back in bed and actually die. Then, he would feel sorry for her

It sounds harsh, I know, but it had the desired effect. Once [Grandmother] realised that her interfering in our family wouldn’t be tolerated and that she would, in fact, be excluded, she stopped being quite so hard on Mum. The only shame is that the other men in the family didn’t take a leaf out of Dad’s book and stand up to her when their wives, sisters, and daughters were being bullied. She carried on being as tough on them as she always had been.

Making Boobs Of Themselves At The Entrance

, , , , , | Right | December 11, 2017

(I am with about ten other security guards, checking ID cards and tickets at the main entrance gate for an under-18s festival. This is my first day on the job, but for the most part, things run smoothly once we get into the swing of things. A group of four young women in their teens get to the front of my queue and hand me their tickets.)

Teen #1: “Here’s our tickets.”

Me: “I’ll also need to see your IDs.”

([Teen #1] removes her ID and presents it to me. After briefly comparing her ticket and ID I pass her through, where she waits for her friends. [Teen #2] then hands me her ID, but the photo has been completely scratched off.)

Me: “The photo on this card has been scratched off.”

Teen #2: “Yeah, it was a bad photo, so I got rid of it.”

Me: “You do realize I need photo ID to let you in? Do you have any other ID?”

([Teen #2] looks confused at the concept that a photo ID needs a photo, but then proceeds to try and give me her credit card, along with various other non-identifying cards, looking more and more dejected as she goes.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept any of these. I need a valid photo ID before I can let you in.”

Teen #2: *hopefully* “If I show you my boobs, will you let me in?”

Me: “Unfortunately, that’s not a form of photo ID, but I will call over my supervisor and see if he can sort this out.”

(I raised my arm to call over my current supervisor, who quickly arrived and asked me what the problem was. He was just as confused as I was at the lack of a discernible picture, but he took the group aside and talked to them. They ended up having to wait for about an hour outside the gate before someone came and gave them valid ID. Unfortunately, I lost count of the amount of times I had to deal with this exact same situation throughout the day.)

 

Bet You Dollars To Donuts He’s After Free Donuts

, , , , , | Right | November 30, 2017

(I work in a fast food restaurant. A woman comes in, visibly shaking with anger. Still, she’s polite to us, so we assume she’s angry at someone other than us. There are two of us here at the moment as it is shift changeover; normally only one person is there at a time.)

Customer: “I’ll have two doughnuts, please.”

Me: *hands over doughnuts* “That will be [price].”

Customer: “Do you have a phone number or website that I could register a complaint with?”

Me: “I’m the manager on duty; is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “I was in here last week and the guy behind the counter was really rude to me! I asked for some doughnuts and he told me to eff off!”

Me: “I’m very sorry you had this experience, but there aren’t any men who work here. There’s only three of us, and we’re all females. Do you remember what time this was?”

Customer: “I was coming home from dropping my husband at the airport, so it was around 10:00 pm.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I’m quite confused. We close at 8:00 pm and throw out remaining stock. Are you sure it was this store?”

Customer: *getting very angry now* “Yes! I took a photo and everything! He was really rude; you’re lucky I bothered coming back!”

Me: “I’ll direct you to our website where you’ll be able to register your complaint with the photo. I really don’t know what to say; as I explained, there’s only three females who work here and we close at 8:00 pm.”

(I called my boss and explained what had happened. As far as we both know, the customer never formally complained nor showed us the photo.)

Sweeter Than The Candy

, , , , , | Friendly | November 19, 2017

(It’s Halloween and I’ve just answered the door to find a young child, no more than four, dressed in white with blood splatters and with their face painted white. The child’s mum is dressed up with some scary makeup, and the dad has painted bones down his arm like a skeleton. Halloween has only become a celebration in recent years in Australia, so this is a pretty impressive effort.)

Me: *squatting down to the kid’s level* “Hey there! Aw, look at you!”

Kid: *with hand actions* “RAWR.”

Me: “Woah, scary!”

Kid: *looking really worried* “I’m not really scary!”

Me: “Oh, good! Would you like some candy?”

Kid: “Yes, please.”

Me: “You can take extra, too.”

Kid: “THANK YOU!”

(This little kid made my day! They were so cute!)

Let’s Hope It Was A Clean Break

, , , , | Healthy | November 18, 2017

(Our two storey house has a lot of windows, many of them quite high up, so we use a window cleaning service. We’ve used the same guy every time. One day, he brings a coworker with him. He introduces me to the coworker, who responds to my greeting by saying curtly:)

Coworker: “Yeah, hi. Where are your taps? We need to get started.”

(I’m working in my home office, which is upstairs. I see the ladder resting against the side of the house and our window cleaner ascending it. He gives me a friendly smile and wave and right then, the ladder wobbles and he falls. I race outside and he’s lying on the grass unconscious. I rush into the house for the phone and as I do, I pass the coworker.)

Me: “[Window Cleaner] has just fallen from his ladder; he’s out cold! I’m calling an ambulance!”

Coworker: “You do that.”

(He doesn’t make a move to check on his colleague; he just carries on cleaning. I call the ambulance and rush back outside.)

Me: “Didn’t you hear what I said? [Window Cleaner] has had a bad fall. Why aren’t you checking on him?”

Coworker: “You just said you’d called the ambulance. What do you want me to do about it? Do you want your windows cleaned or not?!”

(I’m not about to stand there arguing with him and I rush round the house to open the gate for the paramedics and to stay with my window cleaner until they arrive. As they are assessing him he starts to come round, but is later revealed to have a broken ankle, a broken collarbone, and a concussion. After the paramedics have taken him away, I go back to the coworker.)

Me: “I think he’ll be okay. They’ve taken him to [Hospital]. Shouldn’t you follow the ambulance or let his wife know or SOMETHING?”

Coworker: *after a long pause in which he just stares at me* “That’ll be $160.00.”

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