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Crocodile Denial, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | August 13, 2020

I work as a tour guide at a wildlife park. Today, I am showing a tour group of senior high school and college students from the US around our wildlife park. We arrive at one of the saltwater crocodiles, which are bigger and more dangerous than alligators. This one is five metres long and weighs nearly a metric tonne, and he is on the bank with only his tail in the water.

We are standing on a raised platform looking down at him. I finish my talk about crocodiles.

Me: “Does anyone have any questions?”

Tourist: “How do you make the crocodile do tricks?”

Me: *Pause* “I do not make him do tricks.”

Tourist: “But he’s just sitting there.”

Me: “Yes, crocodiles save their energy for when they need it. See how he’s watching us? He won’t move unless he decides it’s worth the effort.”

Tourist: “You should poke him.”

Me: “I’m not going to poke him.”

Tourist: “C’mon, he won’t move, I bet.”

Me: “He absolutely will move; he is very territorial. We do not enter his pen without a lot of precautions; he can attack very quickly.”

Tourist: “But he looks so lazy.”

Me: “Again, because he is saving his energy.”

Tourist: “I’m going to jump in there.”

The tourist goes to swing his foot up over the railing. Whether or not he’s joking doesn’t matter; I pull him back from the barrier.

Me: “Absolutely do not do that. You will die. And I will not be going in to save you.”

Tourist: “You won’t?”

Me: “No.”

He finally moved on after that.

Related:
Crocodile Denial

This Interviewer Knows How Fathers Work

, , , , , , | Related | July 31, 2020

When our first child is eight months old, we plan a family holiday to Fiji. Our daughter is too young to have her own passport so she has to be added to mine. My husband also needs to sign that he approves for her to go on my passport. This is to check that the mother isn’t planning to take the child overseas behind the father’s back.

This is considered such a serious concern that they follow up on the husband’s permission with a phone interview. Accordingly, my husband gets a call from the passport office in Canberra.

Interviewer: “Good morning, sir. We’re just following up on a passport application for your daughter. We need your approval to process it.”

Husband: “Yes, that’s all good. I’m fine with it; it’s a family holiday”.

Interviewer: “Very good, sir. Can I just confirm you are the child’s father with a few questions? Firstly, what is the child’s middle name?”

My husband’s family doesn’t do middle names. Mine does, so we used a traditional family middle name which he was fine with because he didn’t care either way. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten it!

Husband: “Um, I can’t remember, sorry.”

Interviewer: “Oh, okay. Well, next question, what is the child’s birth date on the passport application?” 

This is eight months after the birth. We have not yet celebrated a birthday for her, so while he knows it’s early [Month], he’s not really sure of the date. So he guesses… and he gets it wrong.

Interviewer: “Oooookaay! Final question, what is the mother’s maiden name?”

By this time, my husband is extremely flustered. It has not occurred to him that they mean his daughter’s mother — we’re still not feeling old and mature enough to be parents — so he hears the question wrong, and he knows MY mother’s maiden name, so he gives that.

That’s three out of three wrong.

The interviewer starts laughing.

Interviewer: “Well, sir. If this was a fraudulent application, you would have been coached better than that. Only a real father would get every question wrong. All good here, sir. Thank you. Enjoy your holiday!”

Since then, he has been much better with all the details.

No Need To Be So Saucy

, , , , | Working | July 23, 2020

As a young child, I hated sauces on almost anything, especially mayonnaise. As a result, I would always check what was on any new product I ordered.

I am in a store for a fast food chain I have not eaten at before on a road trip.

Me: “Excuse me. What’s on the chicken, cheese, and bacon burger?”

The cashier stares at me and speaks in a mocking tone.

Cashier: “What do you think is on it?”

Me: “Chicken… cheese… and bacon?”

She nods and sneers at me.

Me: “There’s no sauce?”

Cashier: “No.”

I had never felt so small in a shop before. Nowadays I would ask about specific ingredients if I was worried, but I hadn’t learned that at this point. The burger came out; it was drenched in mayonnaise and I could barely take a bite.

I Would Have Kicked Them Out The Moment They Called Me Ugly

, , , , , | Right | July 22, 2020

I work on the registers in a major supermarket. This customer comes in every Wednesday with her husband and is rude and just plain annoying. I have just finished packing all her groceries.

Me: “That will be $141.54.”

Customer: “I have money on my rewards card.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll run it through for you and we will check.”

It comes back with a zero balance on the card.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s no money on here.”

Customer: “I know there’s money on there! I have enough points for $50! Give me my money off or give me money from your till!”

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t do that! Have you rung the rewards company and asked to redeem the points for cash to use at the register?”

Customer: “No, of course not; that’s your job, you stupid, ugly girl!”

Me: “Well, I can’t do that. Sorry, you will have to ring them and redeem.”

Customer: “Fine, you stupid girl!”

The customer leaves and I look at the next lady in line.

Next Lady: “So, can I have my rewards money?”

Me: “…”

Next Lady: “I’m joking, love!”

The Cat’s Meow Isn’t Worse Than Its Bite

, , , , , | Healthy | June 15, 2020

I consider myself a bit of a medical disaster; if something goes wrong, it does so in the most spectacular or strange manner. 

This story begins the day before I head to the ER. My indoor cat makes a mad dash for the front door while I am taking rubbish out and disappears for a few minutes. As he is a black cat, and it is 1:00 am, he’s practically invisible.

His presence is made known when he starts getting his a** handed to him by a cat half his size across the road. I sigh, knowing that separating them will get me scratched up, but as a lifelong cat owner, I decide it’s worth it just to get him safely indoors.

What I am not expecting is my cat latching onto my hand, violently. He bites my hand and digs his claws up my arm! I get him back home and begin to clean the wound. It’s deep, but not bad enough for me to realise it needs medical attention. It’s late at night but I wake my parents to let them know what’s happened because I know how dangerous cat bites can be. With copious amounts of disinfectant, and closing up the most suspect scratches, I head to bed. 

During my shift at work the next day, it becomes apparent it needs further attention. I get out of my shift at 9:00 pm, call a nurse hotline, and am told that I really need to be at the hospital within twenty-four hours of the initial bite. Off to the ER I go, much at the dismay of my parents. They’re convinced I’ll be given a prescription of antibiotics and sent home.

Funnily enough, the reception nurse is a lady I assisted at work during the day, and we have a chat while waiting for the doctor. She asks me to take the bandage off my hand, and her face falls. I haven’t really looked at it for a few hours, but it has clearly swollen to almost twice the size of my other hand.

I get taken out back, but there are no beds available. I apologise for taking up valuable time and resources, but they say that they trust my judgment and that it was the right call to come in. The doctor finally makes it in and starts preparing me for an IV. I’m kind of shocked because at this stage I was still just expecting them to clean it and send me home with a prescription. I call my dad, who has been sitting in the car waiting for this “inevitable” outcome, but when he sees the situation, he is shocked, too.

I have terrible veins, which is great fun for all the blood tests I’ve needed in my time. They try to get one into my left arm, the one without injury, and fail. I’m informed it’s really against all best interests to have the injured arm stuck, but they have to go for it anyway. I receive the first round of antibiotics, and some painkillers, too. I’m asked when my last tetanus shot was. I think for a second, and then laugh.

My last tetanus shot was in 2012 when I was hospitalised… for a cat bite that pierced a hole through my skull! (Different cat!)

I’m admitted overnight and placed in the children’s ward, despite being an adult, as they really need to monitor my situation. I also need my arm suspended above my head, which is very uncomfortable with the attached drip. A sleepless night ensues.

The next day, as I’m about to be discharged, four rounds of antibiotics later, I hear the doctor speaking to the patient in the bed beside me. He mentions an animal bite, and I think that he may have the wrong patient.

Nope! The lady beside me, who was admitted mere minutes before me, is there for a snake bite! We end up laughing over it and realise that my situation is actually worse; I am genuinely at risk of losing my hand, but Snake Bite Lady is comparatively fine!

Although I now have a few scars up my hand and arm, it was almost worth the pain when the hilarity of the situation hit realising that my house cat bite was worse than a venomous snake bite!