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Having A Sub-epiphany

| Right | October 20, 2012

(I’m standing in line behind a very well-dressed, mid-fifties lady.)

Lady: “What’s the difference between a 6-inch sub and a 12-inch sub?”

Employee: *shows a 12-inch bread* “Well, this is a 12-inch sub…”

(She then moves her hand to the middle of the bread.)

Employee: “…and this is the size of a 6-inch sub.”

(The lady acts like if she has just found out the meaning of life.)

Lady: “Oh, so a 6-inch is around half the size of a 12-inch sub!”

The Walking Dead

| Related | October 18, 2012

(My mother, brother and I are out having dinner when my mom starts sharing a story she heard on the news recently.)

Mom: “So, he ended up going right over Niagara Falls! But he walked out of the water a little while later!”

Me: *shocked* “Alive?!”

Brother: *sarcastically* “No, he walked out dead.”

May-Your-Nays Be Never In Your Flavor

| Working | October 18, 2012

(I’ve called in an order of a BLT with no mayonnaise to eat on my lunch break. The BLT is clearly listed on the menu as “Bacon, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise,” but as I can’t eat mayonnaise, I specifically request it to be left off. I go to pick up my sandwich, and when I get back to work, I see that the sandwich is covered in mayo. I call the restaurant to see what can be done.)

Me: “Hi, I just picked up what was supposed to be a BLT with no mayo, but the sandwich is covered in mayo. I can’t eat this. Can I get a replacement?”

Employee: “BLTs come standard with mayonnaise, you know.”

Me: “Yes, I know. I can’t eat mayonnaise. I asked for no mayonnaise on the sandwich.”

Employee: “So, what’s the problem?”

Me: “The sandwich has mayonnaise on it. I’m lactose intolerant.”

Employee: “But BLTs are supposed to have mayonnaise on them. If you didn’t want mayonnaise, you should have asked for no mayonnaise.”

Me: “…Can I speak to your manager?”

(The manager comes on the phone, and we confirm that I want a BLT: bacon, lettuce, and tomato. Cheese is not mentioned anywhere in my conversation with either employee. After skipping lunch and driving to the restaurant after work to pick up the replacement sandwich, I have this exchange with the same two employees.)

Employee: “Here. BLT, no mayo. You wanted American cheese on that, right?”

Me: “…Is that a joke?”

Manager: *to employee* “Are you freaking kidding me? She tells you she’s lactose intolerant, so you go ahead and put cheese, a dairy product, on a BLT?”

Employee: “Well, it needed something besides just bacon, lettuce, and tomato!”

Me: “No, it didn’t! It’s a BLT! Bacon, lettuce, and tomato! Why would a BLT ever get cheese on it to begin with?”

Employee: “So you don’t want the sandwich? What CAN we do for you?”

Me: “You can get me a refund.”

(The manager gave me my money back, plus a few extra dollars, but I haven’t ordered from there since. Nor have any of my coworkers!)

Better Have A Big Fat Awesome Apology

| Romantic | October 17, 2012

(My boyfriend and I are walking out of the restaurant after eating dinner. I go to kiss him and he pokes me in the side.)

Boyfriend: *poke*

Me: “Don’t do that!”

Boyfriend: *poke*

Me: “Stop poking my fat!”

Boyfriend: “It’s not fat, it’s concentrated awesome!”

 

Misbehavior Reaches Critical Mass

| Right | October 17, 2012

(My husband and I are sitting a few tables down from a family of six. All of the children are older, the youngest looking about 17, so I didn’t expect any problems until a priest walks in.)

Teenage daughter: “Hey [brothers’ names], look at the priest!”

Mother: “Shush, don’t embarrass yourself.”

Son #1: “S***, does this mean we can’t do s***?”

Teenage daughter: “Oooh, you swore in front of a priest! You’re going to Hell!”

Son #1: “You’re going to Hell for being a wh***.”

(The parents look mortified at their behavior. I am shocked, too, especially at a man in his early twenties calling his younger sister a wh***. After chastising them both, the parents go back to conversing with the older daughter until the other two start up again.)

Teenage daughter: “Hey, [other brother], I dare you to go ask for confession.”

Son #2: “Seriously, you both need to shut up.”

Teenage daughter: *completely ignoring her mother’s warning* “You’re scared of a little priest? What’s he going to do? Send me to Hell?”

(Finally, it appears the priest has had enough, and stands up, approaching the table from the girl’s side.)

Priest: “First off, young lady, I have heard your mother tell you to be quiet several times. The fourth commandment says honor thy mother and thy father. You, my dear, obviously need some work on that. Secondly, if anyone needs confession at this table, it is you. Thirdly, the makeup doesn’t quite cover the hickey on your neck.”

(At this, the second son bursts out laughing, and the father profusely thanks the priest for reigning in his now speechless daughter. They ask the priest to join them and insist on paying for his meal. Besides that, on the way out, I hear the mother tell the daughter she’s grounded until she’s 30.)