Turning You Into A Preposition

, , , , , | Learning | October 17, 2017

(It is the first day of school.)

Me: “Hey, where is the cafeteria at?”

Other Student: *snottily* “Never end a sentence with a preposition.”

Me: “Okay, then. Where’s the cafeteria at, b****?”

Unfiltered Story #98060

, , | Unfiltered | October 12, 2017

In my fourth grade art class, the teacher went through a unit where we were making clay masks. I chose to use paints without glaze in them, and made sure to put my mask on the proper table. When I got the mask back it was a flaky mess with a chalky coat of paint, that she “dropped” on my desk, shattering it. A couple of the mask shards cut the kid next to me, and the teacher didn’t apologize, just kept on going around and handing out masks. I ended up sniffling silently through the next lesson, and offering the kid next to me a bandaid from my backpack, which he refused.

A year and a half ago – twenty four years after that class, I was applying for a job, but I didn’t use my maiden name since it had been 7 years since I was married and I didn’t feel like explaining that “no, I’m not related to the famous people with my maiden name” again in an interview, like I had during previous interviews.

Anyway, the interview comes, and it’s with someone whose name sounds familiar, but it was a somewhat common name. Turned out that my suspicion was right, and that it was with the kid who had sat next to me. He had been a self-centered bully in school, and I immediately recognized him when I walked in. Apparently, I don’t have a poker face, because I was shocked and angered by recognizing him:)

Interviewer: Are you okay?

Me: Oh, yes. A personal matter I just realized I’d forgotten. Sorry.

Interviewer: Oh, okay! I hope you get it taken care of. So on to the interview, I’m Adam…

(The interview went surprisingly well. He wanted to know about where I went to school, but I dodged that with “oh we moved around a lot, so I went to quite a few”, which was technically true – I’d gone through three elementary schools and was in a charter school for middle, and part of high schools, and we moved twice which my dad always complained loudly about. Finally, he went back to the usual questions, and then this happened:)

Interviewer: You sound like you’ve had a fantastic adventure, and if you had been in my school, we likely would have been great friends!

Me: Oh! *laughs awkwardly* Sure, yeah!

Interviewer: Well, I don’t even think we need to see you for a second interview. When can you start?

Me: I’m available on Monday, because my family is visiting this weekend.

Interviewer: Brilliant! Just so you know, we’re going to be moving offices next week – maybe we’ll be doing some light remodeling, so I hope you don’t mind the dust!

Me: Oh, not at all, my home’s currently a construction zone too!

(He asks me to lunch, which I politely decline saying that I had to get “to the airport”, ((even though my family was driving in)), thanked him for the offer, and confirmed the start date before I quickly left!

The following Monday, I come in, and the guy’s setting up his new office, with a female co-worker. I’m standing a few feet from the door to his office at this point, and she’s holding his mask from 4th grade, a stunningly well painted black and red face, with a white star outlined in gold, it was one of the best in our class and had been proudly displayed by our teacher for the remainder of the year:)

Colleague: Oh this is beautiful! Where did you get it?

Interviewer: Oh, that? I painted it in 4th grade! There was one that –

Colleague: *gasps* No! Wow!

Interviewer: *undeterred from his story* if I hadn’t switched it to the pile of glazed paintings, that would have been better than mine. But then the dumb girl who got it back, threw it down, cutting me, and she cried about it the whole class. I don’t think she knew it was me, she was a fucking retard though, always acting like she was too good to talk to people and stuff.

Colleague: WHAT? You were competitive, so you chose to cheat?

Interviewer: What? No, that’s not cheating! She could have seen it on the wrong table and moved it back ANY time! But then SHE cut me when she threw it down! And then she cried about it? Like oh my god surprise it broke. Fuckin’ retard.

Colleague: I… No. Holy fuck. You’re probably wrong, she was probably like an introvert or something, I know people said I acted like that in high school, but I didn’t want to talk to them. I’ve taken communications and assertiveness classes, so I’m much better about it now. *twirls mask and “accidentally” drops it* Oh! Oh. I’m so sorry! *feigning concern in a sarcastic voice, looks over at his arm* Oh noooo, did I cut you?

(I decide to pipe up, and use the pronunciation of his last name, that the HS football coach who hated him, had used:)

Me: All the s of the world thank you, ma’am, and yes, I was quite the introvert because I didn’t think anyone would suffer my presence for more than eight seconds. Wickfit proved that right. And all my concerns about whether he has grown up from being a bullying jock, have been validated, a lot earlier than I expected. Also, you know what, Wickfit? threw down my mask and broke it herself, not me, so go fuck yourself, I’m glad you got cut. And I don’t even know your name, ma’am, but it’s too bad that things break when they so accidentally drop, hmm?

Colleague: It’s karma, he fucking deserves that shit. I was that kid when I was growing up in Arkansas. Do you want coffee? I know a cool place to go, once I clock out one last time. *turns to Wickfit* Go fuck yourself, Wickfit! In fact, everybody should mispronounce your last name like that! It fits your vile personality.

(We walked out together, telling the receptionist who was a good friend of her’s, about what happened, and she said that calling him Wickfit was a brilliant idea, assuring me that he wasn’t very well liked in the office. We heard back from her almost a year later, that the nickname had caught on throughout the office, and that he had willfully refused to learn the name of one of our replacements, a black woman he called LaToya, stating that “all black girls names are the same” and “that was the only one he knew”. She ended up reading a viral post from Twitter that week, and used the idea: She, and then the entire office staff, called him the most blandest names they could think of, such as “Steve”, “Chad”, “Todd”, “John”, Donny”, the list went on, and the rest of the office went along with it, and created more memos in one month than the previous three years combined, all CC’ed to him. They always used the last name Wickfit, so everyone in the office knew who they were referring to. He apologized to her, learned her actual name, and the office resumed using his first name, but they still call him Wickfit.)

Unfiltered Story #98058

, , | Unfiltered | October 12, 2017

(In my shop class, we work in groups of three and the tables are covered in canvas so nothing gets on the table.)

Me: “Can you get a drill, [Friend #1]?”

Friend #1: “Sure.” *she walks across the room*

Me: “Okay, we need to drill this part over here.”

Friend #1: “I wonder if we drilled sideways on the canvas, would the drill get stuck?”

Me: “Um, go ahead.”

([Friend #1] drills sideways and gets the drill stick in the canvas. Our teacher is coming our way so [Friend #1] yanks it out, but there is now a big rip in the canvas.)

Me: *in between laughs* “Hi [Teacher]!”

Friend #2: “What happened?”

Me: *I explain the story*

Friend #2: “You wouldn’t get a drill stuck in the canvas (sticks the drilll sideways and the.ln gets it so stuck she can’t pull it out)

Me: (teacher) is walking over run!!!!

Friend #1: (runs across the room with me) phew

Teacher to friend 2: did you do that on purpose

Friend #2: no of course not

(Teacher proceeds to yank the drill out of the canvas while me and friend 1 can’t stop laughing)

Me: well that was eventful

Unbuckled Parenting Techniques

, , , , | Related | October 11, 2017

(I work at a school and am bringing a kid out to be picked up, followed by a bunch of other kids who are also waiting for their parents. My school has an office and waiting area right in front, where parents can park to pick up their kids, and in the middle there is a ramp where kids come out from. It’s raining heavily and the pickup area, despite having a roof, is very wet.)

Me: *opening the door to the outside* Oh, [Student]! They are here to pick you up, I think. Who is that lady in the car?”

Student: “My mom.”

(The mom makes a horrible face at me.)

Me: “Great!”

(I open the back door and help [Student] in.)

Mom: *turns around from the front seat and screams* “I almost slipped on your s***ty floor.”

(I’m shocked by her language and turn to look at her eight-year-old. He looks down, obviously scared.)

Mom: “There.” *points to the offices* “I came in and almost slipped. I told the b**** inside that if my kid slips here, I will sue each one of you. I will sue the s*** out of this f****** school and you all will be out of a f****** job. And she ignored me, that b****. And you better hear me. Can you hear me, b***? If my son slips, I will leave you on the street.”

(She keeps screaming. I don’t even know what to answer as I look at [Student] and try, miserably, to buckle him up.)

Me: *interrupting her* “Excuse me, the seat belt seems to be stuck behind the seat. [Student], could you please move to the other side so I can buckle you up? I wouldn’t want you to leave without the seat belt on.”

Mom: *now furious at being interrupted* “Who cares about a d*** seat belt?! Get a life, you b****. I have things to do! Leave him like that and go get a mop to clean! This s***ty school charges too much and only hires b****es. Go work!”

(I hardly have time to close the door before the car speeds away, with [Student] unbuckled. So much for her child’s safety. I have never seen this mom before, but I do know that this is the second time in two years that she has picked up her son. Usually, he stays up to four hours after exit time waiting for her, and she always sends random people to pick him up: boyfriends, aunts, friends, etc. We have to call every time to ask if they are allowed. I tell my boss about this incident. The floor was dry. Apparently, the lady came in with her wet high heels and slipped on the smooth floor.)

Boss: “Don’t worry; she threatens to sue us all the time.”

(And before you ask, the father tried to get custody of the boy. He got it for a while and it was great. But she got it back. Poor [Student].)

When Science Socks It To You!

, , , , | Learning | October 10, 2017

(The class is entering their science period.)

Teacher: *bursting through the doors* “EVERYBODY OUT! I’VE BURNT A SOCK IN THE MICROWAVE!”

Entire Class: “What?”

Teacher: *waving us out* “Go, go!”

(A noticeable stench is wafting out of the classroom. The entire class follows the teacher.)

Me: *whispering to my friends* “How did she burn a sock in the microwave?”

(We ended up staying in the garden for the next hour or so. Ever since, that room has always smelled a little bit like burnt burritos.)

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