Buy A Bible Or You’ll Have The Devil To Pay

, , , , , | Right | August 10, 2017

(Where I live, people are quite devout when it comes to their religious beliefs. I am waiting in line at a local bookstore. The woman ahead of me puts a bible down on the counter, and the cashier reluctantly picks it up and scans it.)

Cashier: “That will be, umm, £6.66 please.”

(Both I and the woman stare at the little display, showing that a discount percentage has been applied due to a sale.)

Woman: “I don’t know what to do. It’s the Holy Bible, but it’s clearly satanic.

Me: “It’s just the sale price.”

Woman: “I know. Are the owner’s Satanists?”

Cashier: “I don’t think so. The sale was decided by the publishers, as they’ve released a newer edition with a hardback.”

Woman: ”Is it more holy?”

Cashier: “It’s definitely more expensive.”

Woman: ”I don’t know what to do…”

(After some serious consideration, the woman agreed to buy both the sale bible and the new £37.99 edition with an elaborate hardback and velvet marker.)

Me: “What will you do with the cheaper one?”

Woman: “I’ll take it to my church and dip it in holy water. If it doesn’t burn I’ll donate it.”

(Finally I’m able to purchase my book.)

Me: “Have you had that a lot since the sale?”

Cashier: “We’ve had people coming in with priests and vicars. I’ve even had holy water sprayed on me. I think the publishers are just playing a joke on us.”

One Ring To Prove It All, And In The Darkness ID Them

, , , , , | Working | August 9, 2017

(I am at a business conference. The dinner for the conference that night is at a restaurant. Because the conference is paying for drinks, they are carding at the door. I’m Mormon, and therefore don’t drink. I’m not familiar with how these types of places work — since I don’t drink, I don’t frequent them — and I do bear some responsibility for not knowing how carding procedures work. In line, I step up to him.)

Door Guy: “Do you have ID?”

Me: “I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “Doesn’t matter. The drinks are generally available in the layout, so everyone needs ID.”

Me: “Oh. I’m 25. Let me dig out my license.”

Door Guy: “You should have had it ready!”

Me: “I apologize. As I said, I don’t drink. I didn’t know you needed them for everyone.”

Door Guy: “You should have known!”

Me: “I’m sorry; I don’t drink, so I don’t know how this works.”

Door Guy: *scoffs* “Sure you don’t drink! You were hoping I’d let you through without ID because of that.”

Me: *showing him my license* “Here it is. See, I’m 25.”

Door Guy: “That’s a fake.”

Me: “No, it’s not.”

Door Guy: “Utah is the easiest state to fake their licenses. That’s a fake.”

Me: “Or I just live in Utah.”

Door Guy: “You tried to get out of showing ID, and then you give me the most faked state.”

Me: “I really am sorry that I didn’t have it ready. I didn’t know, because I don’t usually have this situation as I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “People don’t just not drink.”

Me: “It’s for religious reasons. I’m Mormon.”

Door Guy: “A likely story.”

Me: “No, really.”

(Not sure what else to do, I hold up my hand which has a CTR ring, a common Mormon jewelry. Though generally only worn by Mormons, there’s no reason that someone else couldn’t wear one. It’s a bit like a Jew wearing a Star of David. There’s no reason someone else couldn’t wear one, but there’s no reason they would. The door guy looks at my hand.)

Door Guy: “Oh, you really are. Come on in!”

(I’m still not sure why he doubted the valid ID, but wearing a ring? Proof!)

Looks Like They Still Haven’t Found Jesus

, , , , , | Friendly | July 8, 2017

(I am around eight or nine, at Sunday school. I have only read a few random chapters of the Bible. The pastor’s son had read it cover to cover several times. Everyone starts discussing what Jesus looked like, and I just listen at first. Everyone else is going mostly with the typical depiction: long, light brown hair, beard, wearing a “tunic or whatever it’s called,” being white, and having blue or brown eyes (this varied for people’s opinions). The pastor’s son tries to include me in the conversation because I haven’t said anything.)

Pastor’s Son: “What do you think he looks like, [My Name]?”

Me: *being the little know-it-all I was and still am* “Actually, based on the time period and geological location, he most likely had medium to dark brown skin, short dark brown or black hair, had brown eyes, no beard or a small one, and wore more of tribal-ish attire.”

Everyone Else: *awkwardly staring at me, some with mouths agape*

Pastor’s Son: *rolls eyes* “Next you’re going to tell us he wasn’t a Catholic.”

Me: “He wasn’t. He was Jewish and the first Christian ever.”

Pastor’s Son: *very, very rudely* “Well, you can go worship your black Jesus, and I’ll just stick with the real one.”

(Granted, not that much is officially known about his appearance, but shaming an 8- or 9-year-old for believing he looks different and race-shaming Jesus while in church? Come on!)

Would Jew Risk It?

, , , , , , | Working | June 27, 2017

(My family and I are driving to Idlewild for a mini vacation, and stop at a local restaurant on our way to our cabin. We sit, are greeted pleasantly, and chat with the waitress. All perfectly pleasant, until we try to order. My mother wants to know if a particular soup has pork in it, as the meat is not specified on the menu.)

Mother: “Excuse me, could you tell me if there’s pork in this soup? Or pig of any kind?”

Waitress: “Oh, let me go check.”

(So far so good. She comes back out with the cook and the apparent owner.)

Cook: “We don’t cook this with pork in it. Can I ask why you can’t have pork? Is it an allergy?”

Mother: “No, it’s a religious thing. We’re Jewish.”

(The cook and the owner, as well as the waitress, all appear deeply confused and affronted. We try to explain the religious abstention from pork and other such forbidden foods, explaining it is our preference, not something we advised for everyone.)

Waitress: “Jewish? Well, that’s stupid. Why can’t you just eat the pork. It’s perfectly good food!”

(We were stunned, offended, and quickly left, paying for our food and throwing out the soup soon after, on the off chance they did actually put pork in it.)

Evolving To Avoid Tipping

, , , , , | Working | June 26, 2017

(When visiting a friend we go to a local restaurant. While we’re waiting for our order, I’m telling him about my aquarium and a certain fish I have.)

Me: “So the betta is actually able to breathe air directly. They evolved to survive in a rapidly changing environment. Repeated floodings and stuff.”

(A wild waitress appears with our order.)

Waitress: *glares at me*

Me: “Thank you.”

Waitress: “Hmpf!”

(We’re both rather confused, considering she’d been nice enough when she took our order. When we want to pay up, I decide to pay since my friend had invited me the last time.)

Waitress: *still glares at me*

Me: “Is there a problem?”

Waitress: “You’re very rude!”

Me: “Excuse me? How am I being rude?”

Waitress: “You’re trying to impose your beliefs on me!”

Me: “I what?!”

Waitress: “I don’t believe in evolution! And you’re yelling about it all the time!”

Me: “Are you serious? First of all, I wasn’t yelling. And second, I wasn’t even talking to you!”

Waitress: “Well, you should consider that there are people who don’t believe in that stuff, so you shouldn’t talk about it!”

Me: “I don’t even… Are you serious? Look, just let me pay up and we’ll leave.”

Waitress: “Fine!”

(She gives me the bill. I cross out the tip part and pay.)

Waitress: “What? You didn’t write down any tip!”

Me: “I find it very rude that you’re trying to impose your beliefs on me!”

Waitress: “What? What beliefs?”

Me: “I don’t believe in tipping.”

(She was furious but shut up. We left.)

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