Coming This Father’s Day: The Splattering

, , , , | Right | September 29, 2020


It’s late evening on father’s day, and the restaurant is now closed. The doors are still standing open for when the final couple departs. Two younger women enter the foyer.

Woman: “We need the bathroom.”

The lady looked rather desperate and had been rejected by the only other venue with a bathroom, there are no public ones nearby.

Me: “Sure.”

It’s not a problem, it’s only a bit of water and toilet paper. Do a good deed right? Well, no good deed goes unpunished.

I might have some sympathy for this woman and whatever hell-storm she had weathered during the nigh on twenty minutes she spent in that bathroom, but it vanished the instant the foul, feted stench of her creation seeped past three heavy doors into the main room.

This should have been a warning sign as our toilets are fully enclosed and smell rarely travels.

Woman: “Sorry.”

She says this as she hurries out of the restaurant.

Me: “No worries, have a good night.”

We’re still waiting on our last table, it was no inconvenience – how sorely wrong we were.

Words escaped our poor head waitress upon discovering the crime scene, for this was akin to biological warfare.

Our poor, seventies-era toilet cubicle was now painted with a layer of liquid s***, smattered through with vomit. Streaks of ordure, indicative of a poor attempt to clean the mess painted the tiles. The toilet seat was a Jackson Pollock executed in shades of scat. Hurricane Excreta hit our bathroom.

Needless to say scotch was on one hand and bleach in the other to give our poor head waitress, the only one with a strong enough stomach, the courage to tackle this atrocity of fecal matter. Our recent safety measures proved to be a minute blessing as we had enough masks, gloves and cleaning products to nearly wipe the existence of this offender off the planet.

But no hand sanitizer will ever clean our minds.

Our policy on allowing passers-by to use our bathrooms is under heavy consideration.

And to that woman, wherever you are. See a doctor.

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A Big Mayo No No, Part 6

, , , , , , | Right | September 27, 2020

Shops have started to open up after the quarantine, so I treat my family to their first take-away in months. The hype is unbelievable with queues at every store and traffic jams all over the city. It’s like they are giving the food away.

I stop by a walk-in sandwich shop a few days later. Inside, I see two women at the counter who both seem to be in their twenties. As I join the queue, it seems that the first is finished and the second is choosing her salad.

Woman #2: “No salad.”

Worker: “None at all?”

Woman #2: *With heaps of attitude* “Uh, no! Mayo! I want mayo on that.”

Worker: “Mayonnaise, okay.”

Woman #2: “More. More!”

The worker dutifully fills the sandwich with mayonnaise; at this point, it looks more like cake frosting. A thick layer covers nearly all of the meat and cheese. It looks disgusting and I must be staring, as the second woman glares at me.

Woman #2: “Hey, [Woman #1], you want a cookie?”

She glares at me again.

Woman #1: “Yeah, get me one.”

Woman #2: *Insincerely* “Oh, no! They only have six left! Oh, well, some people won’t be getting any at all.”

She looks at me like she has won some grand scheme.

Woman #2: “Give me allll six.”

They leave, cackling. I turn to the other worker to pay, utterly bemused.

Worker: “Did you want a cookie? I have more to put out; we didn’t have a chance yet.”

Me: “Not really, thank you. I’m not sure what that was about.”

Worker: “Oh, they come in quite regularly. The one on the left, [Woman #2], scoops the extra mayo out with the cookie and eats it like a dip!”

I got my food and left. I wish I had chosen anything other than mayo.

A Big Mayo No No, Part 5
A Big Mayo No No, Part 4
A Big Mayo No No, Part 3
A Big Mayo No No, Part 2
A Big Mayo No No

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Not Bloody Cool

, , , , | Working | September 24, 2020

When my husband and I first moved into our house, the existing fridge was very old and outdated, so we decided to post it on a classifieds site and purchase a newer one secondhand.

We got the new fridge moved in before the old one sold, so my husband and his friend moved it through several doorways into the garage while we waited for it to sell. When we did have a buyer show up later that day, we led him to the garage, and upon seeing the fridge, with a completely straight face, the guy said, “No charge for the blood, hey?”

To my horror, there were several smudges of blood on the side of the fridge, which must have occurred while my friend was moving the fridge, which was a tight fit through all those doorways!

Sure enough, looking at his hands, there was at least one small wound that had transferred to the fridge without us noticing. I apologized profusely, but the buyer seemed more amused than anything and left happily with the fridge!

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Making A Boob Of One Self, Part 9

, , , | Right | September 17, 2020

At the end of my fifteen-minute lifeguarding rotation, I look over and see a woman changing her daughter’s full diaper on deck. I start to walk over but my coworker gets there first. I can’t hear the conversation but I can see that the woman yells at him and he walks away. This family gave me and my coworker trouble earlier in the day, as well.

Break starts and I walk back into the guard room. This woman walks up to the counter, looking angry.

Lady: “Is breastfeeding illegal, too?”

Me: “No, ma’am, in [Our State] public breastfeeding is not illegal.”

Lady: “Then why am I being told I cannot feed my child? I demand your name, your coworker’s name, and your manager’s name. I am suing you!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the issue here isn’t breastfeeding. I believe we told you to not change your daughter on deck due to sanitation issues. We have a changing table available in the restroom for you to use.”

The lady continues screaming about suing us and continues to demand my name and my manager’s name, as well as her phone number.

Coworker: “We cannot legally disclose the name of our employees or our manager’s personal information. Here’s a rule sheet if you would like to look over the rules.”

We call our manager, who comes back to the pool and deals with the lady and her family. They finally leave.

Manager: *Angrily* “Who told her it was illegal to breastfeed?”

My coworker and I look at each other in confusion.

Me: “No one said that.” 

I proceeded to explain the whole situation. My manager apologized for yelling, and the lady was banned.

Making A Boob Of One Self, Part 8
Making A Boob Of One Self, Part 7
Making A Boob Of One Self, Part 6
Making A Boob Of One Self, Part 5
Making A Boob Of One Self, Part 4

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This Is Why Amazon Is Doing So Well

, , , , , , | Working | September 16, 2020

Recently, it’s been made a requirement to wear masks in stores where I live, so thankfully, everyone in this story was actually wearing them.

I went to a DIY store to buy some isopropyl alcohol because my partner had spilled liquid on their PC and isopropyl alcohol is pretty much the last hope to try and dry it off. I asked one guy whether they had it, who sent me to the hardware area, no joy. I then asked another, older man, who I decided to show the item on my phone so that he knew what I was looking for.

He took my phone from my hand with his ungloved hands — which were also coated in oil or something along those lines; he had black under his nails — and walked over to a younger man and asked him. When the younger man replied, he took off his mask to talk to the older man.

They didn’t have what I wanted in the end, so I left and thoroughly sanitised my phone.

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