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We Don’t Want To Think Where Gummi-Berry Juice Comes From

, , , | Right | June 30, 2020

We’ve stopped at a gas station for drinks and snacks. My husband is purchasing an energy drink while I’ve got water and gummy bears.

Me: “That stuff is going to kill you.”

Husband: “Energy drinks are good for you.”

Me: “They’re half poison.”

Husband: “Because gummy bears are healthy?”

Me: “These are completely natural. Made from 100% pure gummy bear.”

Clerk: “We catch them fresh in the wild every week.”

Husband: “I really don’t know what to say to that.”

They Have A Band On Their Wrist And A Chip On Their Shoulder

, , , , | Right | March 11, 2020

(I am volunteering at a convention where people are given wristbands to wear instead of badges. I am standing at one of the entrances, and my job is to stop people if I can’t see their wristbands. Whenever someone passes me, I look at their wrists to check for a wristband. At one point, two young women come out holding hands. As usual, I look at their wrists as they pass. They notice and stop.)

Woman #1: “Excuse me, do you have a problem with us?”

Me: “Oh, I’m—”

Woman #2: “There’s nothing wrong with two people in love.”

Me: “I know, I’m just—”

Passerby: “This city is full of LGBT people; you’ll just have to deal with it! Otherwise, get the f*** out.”

Me: “Look, I’m just checking for wristbands, which you clearly have. I don’t have a problem with you.”

Woman #1: “Oh…”

Me: “Enjoy the show.”

Clearly, She Was Offended By The Word “Tricky”

, , , , , | Working | February 24, 2020

Due to my experience with databases and the specific reporting software we use, I often get called in to help build reports that coworkers in my company will run and use. This experience means that I’m also generally their first resource when those reports break or give odd data.

On this particular day, I am contacted by a fairly new coworker who is taking over a particular report that a prior coworker had been running. She wants me to explain how the report works so that she can understand it all. I am ahead on my work, and I’m happy to do so as my coworkers understanding the reports cuts down on the amount of troubleshooting I end up needing to do. I go over to her desk and sit down to explain things.

“To start with, how familiar are you with [Reporting System]?”

*Cheerfully* “Totally unfamiliar. This is my first time using it.”

*Laughing* “Well, that’s okay; it is designed to be pretty user-friendly. It mimics a lot of the reporting functions of [Common Database Program], if you’ve used that.”


“That’s okay. So, first, let’s open up the report.”

My coworker opens the program, then pauses.

“Um, where is the report?”

“It will be under [Folder] in the Report tab.”

I walk her through opening up the report and go through the various columns in it, explaining where the data for them came from. The entire time, she is cheerful and attentive and seems to be following along easily.

“All right, so, this last column is a bit tricky, because I had to manually code it rather than relying on what [Program] has available. It pulls from–”

“Don’t condescend to me.”

*A bit startled* “Uh, sorry, I didn’t–”

“I’m a professional. You shouldn’t talk down to me.”

It was like a switch had been flipped. She went from cheerful to icily angry in an instant. There was nothing different about how or what I was explaining, as far as I could tell. I kept going, finishing up the explanation, and she ended up thanking me in the same cool tone. I went back to work, feeling slightly weirded out from the sudden tone shift.

I ended up getting called into my boss’s office a week or so later to be asked about it, because apparently, my coworker had complained to the boss about me trying to “foist off” my reports onto her. That really confused my boss, given that she was the one who’d assigned my coworker to take care of that report in the first place.

That Motherly Love Isn’t What It Used To Be

, , , , , | Related | February 2, 2020

(My wife and I have eaten some old MREs — meal, ready to eat — for dinner, and we’re feeling a little off. Later, I tell my eighty-five-year-old mother about it on the phone.)

Me: “We ate some seven-year-old army rations for dinner, and now we don’t feel too good.”

Mother: “Don’t eat those; they’ll make you sick! You should give them to homeless people!”

Bees Full Of Kryptonite

, , , , , , | Learning | November 19, 2019

(I work for a kids camp at a college. We are the typical rich kids camp, so we get a lot of stress from parents throughout the whole summer. But some parents just leave us with gem-like stories.)

Me: “Okay. Does your child have any allergies that we should be aware of?”

Mom: “Nope! Our little boy is like Superman! Nothing can hurt him!”

Dad: *stays quiet*

Me: “All right, then! I’ve got everything I need. I think you are good to go! Have a nice day.”

Mom: “Thanks!” *phone rings* “Oh. I’ll meet you guys outside. I have to take this.” *runs outside*

Dad: *to me* “Um… Can you actually wait a second?”

Me: “Yes?”

Dad: “My son is actually allergic to bee stings.”

Me: “Wait, seriously? How come she said he was ‘Superman’?”

Son: “She thinks it’s a ‘flaw’ and is embarrassed about it.”

Me: “Oh… well, no worries, man. I won’t tell anyone, but make sure you have your medicine with you.”

Dad & Son: “Thanks!” *leaves*

Coworker: “Wait… if she doesn’t like to admit he has an allergy, then how did they get medicine?”

Me: “I’m either gonna say in secret or the black market.”


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