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A collection of stories curated from different subreddits, adapted for NAR.

Somewhere Out There, Is A Child Who Won’t Get To Travel

, , , , | Working | CREDIT: nim_opet | October 27, 2020

I am dealing with the local administration in a country that still believes bureaucracy exists to make everyone’s life miserable and that if you haven’t spent weeks gathering paperwork you shouldn’t be allowed to get anything done.  

I am moving, and have to register my address. This means going to the local municipal police, with my new condo contract, my old ID, my birth certificate (for some reason), and I a bunch of papers proving I paid about six different types of fees.

Only one counter out of five is open, and they seem to be handling everything: address changes, driver’s licenses, passport requests. I wait in line and finally get to pass this whole bundle of papers to the lady behind.

She takes them all, staples some, then tells me to sit down and wait… for something. About twenty minutes later, a uniformed policeman opens the door of an office and yells my name. I walk in, he sits down and starts with:

Policeman: “Where’s the child?”

Me: “Huh? I don’t have a child.”

Policeman: “No, I mean, your child.”

At this point, we’re both looking at each other as he notices I have no idea what he’s talking about.

Policeman: “Why don’t you people read the requirements. You can’t travel with a child if the other parents don’t sign the consent form! Why are you here without the consent form?”

Me: “To change my address?”

At this point, I’m starting to doubt my purpose there.

Policeman: “What address? Does the child not live with you?”

Me: “Ugh… no, I don’t have a child, all I want is to register my new address. No children live with me. I don’t have a child. I’m not married.”

Policeman: “But… why did you come into my office? I do parental consent for travel of minors.”

Me: “I don’t know, you called my name.”

He looks at papers, my ID is there.

Policeman: “I see… it is a change of address. Okay, I can do that. Have a seat…”

I’m sitting there while he types something.

Policeman: “The lady at the counter should be doing this, but I’ll do you a favor… okay, address change is done. Next time pay attention where you’re going.”

Me: “Uh… thank you?”

I Buy Rubbers, You Are Glue…

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: rickrolo24 | October 27, 2020

I need to pick up some condoms and it’s my first time doing this. I’m looking at them because let’s face it; I never bought them before, I am nervous about that evening, this store is frequented by my classmates and teachers and the woman I am meeting is gonna meet me at the store. So I’m sorta kinda on edge.

I feel a finger tap my shoulder. It’s this typical soccer-mom type and her kid is standing there.

Soccer Mom: “Put that back… go somewhere else.”

Me: *Nervously.* “W-why?”

Soccer Mom: *Loud whisper.* “This is a family store! There are children here!”

Me: “I kinda need these.”

Soccer Mom: “Put those back! You’re like what – sixteen!? God you teenagers! Now put that back or I’m gonna grab a manager and tell him a minor is buying condoms!”

I am of consenting age, but I don’t want to cause a scene so I put them back. She then menaced me as I got other things, but I wanted to stay low key because I was worried and time was running out.

So I did the insane, comical, rational thing.

I bought whipped cream and cherries. Her face goes red when I get the cherries because I stare her down. Yeah, gonna harass me and shame me… well f*** you!

I didn’t get lucky that night but I made a bomb-a** cherry coke cake.

I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here: The T-Shirt!

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Maleficent-the-Great | October 27, 2020

Every time I go out with my cousin he gets mistaken as an employee at least once while we’re out. Seriously, every time. For my cousin’s birthday last month, I got him a shirt with, “No, I Don’t Work Here!” written on the front and back. We laughed and moved on.

A little while ago he and I go out to a grocery store together to get stuff and he wears the shirt. He is helping my short self get some stuff off a shelf, passing me stuff as he grabs it when I hear a huffing sound. I look around and on my cousin’s other side is a scowling woman. 

Woman: “When you’re done helping her I need you to come help me.”

My cousin looks at her, looks back at me, turns to face her, and then gestures to his shirt. She turns visibly red before huffing a bit more. 

Woman: “That is entirely inappropriate to wear while you’re on the clock. I’ll speak to your manager about this.”

She shuffles off muttering about being rude. I burst out laughing as my cousin just looks totally defeated. My theory is she knew she was wrong but didn’t want to admit it. No manager came looking for us so I don’t know if she ever actually complained about him.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 35

I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 34
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 33
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 32
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 31

No Pay, No Way

, , , , , , | Working | CREDIT: cptdarkseraph | October 26, 2020

I work for a company that is often visited by journalists. As I am the spokesperson for the company it’s my job to show them around, explain things, organize media conferences, etc.

There are sometimes weeks with no visits at all and then days with three journalists wanting to visit, meaning long days for me. I am fine with that but this also means that I use my car quite a lot. No worries, I like driving my car and I get a certain amount of money per driven kilometre that more or less covers the cost of the gas I use.

Since the company desperately needs to save money they decide:

Boss: “No more money for car trips inside the country; use public transport. We’ll pay for the yearly bus ticket.”

Me: “I probably won’t be able to make as many appointments. Also, if you count the cost of the bus ticket plus the additional time for travel it’s bad maths for you.”

Boss: “I don’t care.”

Fine with me. I cancel the contract for my parking spot which I had to pay for myself anyway, so I can save some money.

The new rule comes into effect, I have my bus ticket and start coming to work by bus. On the second day I do this one of the project managers I am organizing a media conference for walks in.

Project Manager: “I changed plans for tomorrow. You need to pick up a few things before the press conference.”

Me: “Sure thing. Since the conference is quite early can you send our intern with me to pick it up?”

Project Manager: “Why? It’s not that much to pick up.”

Me: “I know but it’s too much to carry by myself. Since I’ll have to change buses at least once it’d be a lot more efficient, and the conference is too early to make the trip twice.”

Project Manager: “Just use your car.”

Me: “Since you won’t pay for gas anymore I will not do that. Plus I cancelled my parking spot here already.”

Project Manager: “Do you really have to start your green experiments in a month like this?”

Me: “Go talk to the boss. It’s his decision, not mine, I told him this would happen.”

Two days later we are back to getting money for gas, but the project manager had to use his own car to go get those additional things. Since my parking space was already rented out to another person I still came to work by bus and if there were a lot of appointments I just had them pay for the daily parking as well!

Truckloads Of Passive-Aggressiveness

, , , | Friendly | CREDIT: oscarmendonca | October 26, 2020

Behind my house, there’s an area reserved for garages. Plans were drawn in 1968, and only three of the eighteen allocated plots have had a garage built. The remaining have a cement base and we park there. 

As spaces are narrow (2.4m wall to wall), and brick garages are expensive. I think of having a pre-built one installed for a quarter of the cost.

A neighbour the same street sees me taking measurements.

Neighbour: “Are you putting a garage up?”

Me: “Yes.”

Neighbour: “Have you gotten planning permission?”

Me: *Confused* “No, don’t think I need it.”

It turns out I do.

Neighbour: “I will call the planning permission people after you have the garage installed, then.”

After looking into it and confirming I do need to apply for planning permission (at an extra cost) I am a bit annoyed. All I wanted was a place to use a storage, and here’s this guy being kind of passive-aggressive with his comments. The reason is actually he wants to buy some of the plots near mine but no one wants to sell them to him. 

I can be very petty. So I bought a rundown Luton van and had it parked there, sorn (Statutory Off Road Notification – basically had it declared non-drivable and moveable) and started using it as storage.

No planning permission required!