One More Word And You’re Done!

, , , , , , , , , | Friendly | October 31, 2017

(My story involves a party game called “Bag of Nouns.” Everyone puts five nouns on five strips of paper and all the papers go into a bag. Teams are optional. The game has three rounds: the first round, you say whatever you can to get your group to guess the noun you drew from the bag and get through as many nouns as you can in a minute. At the end of each turn, all the strips of paper go back into the bag, so very quickly certain nouns become familiar through repetition. The second round is same idea, except you get ONE WORD to describe what’s on the paper, so you’d better hope the nouns you draw on your turn are familiar ones, or that someone in your group will figure out one of their nouns that hasn’t been drawn yet. If you screw up and say, “um,” then you’ve used your one word for that noun, and you’d better hope your team can guess from nothing. The third round is charades. We are on the second round, and a friend’s guest gets to go first.)

Friend: *to guest in question* “Okay, second round. You get just one word per noun that you draw. You can say that word over and over, but you cannot say any other words, not even ‘uh’ or ‘um.'”

Guest: “Okay.” *draws from bag, looks at it* “Right, so, this is a thing where—”

Friend: “—no. One word.” *everyone agrees to give her another shot, since she clearly missed something* “Okay, so if the noun you drew was, say, ‘car,’ you could say, ‘drive,’ or maybe, ‘traffic,’ but nothing else. If the noun you drew came up a lot in the previous round, try to pick a word from those turns to describe it that your team would recognize. Okay?”

Guest: “Yeah, got it.”

Friend: “Great. Draw again.”

Guest: *draws, looks* “Um, so, these are given when—”

Friend: “—no. Stop. Okay. So, for example, the one you drew that time was ‘Finals.’ You could say, ‘test,’ or, ‘college,’ and when that word came up in the first round, ‘stress’ was focused on a lot, so you could use ‘stress’ or something. But no other words. No sentences. No descriptions. One word for the noun you drew, and then your team has to guess based on that one word.”

Guest: *pauses* “Sure.” *draws again, looks at paper* “This is something that—”

Friend: “—yeah, okay, your turn’s over. Next person!”

(She never seemed to really understand the rule, but she also never seemed to understand that she was missing anything.)

Things Are Dirty In The Sock Exchange

, , , , , , | Right | October 27, 2017

(I work in the hosiery department at a department store with a lenient return policy. A customer comes up to the counter and dumps out the contents of her small bag, dropping two pairs of “holiday” socks on the counter, a couple days after that holiday, both twisted and half inside-out. There is no tag, and she has no receipt.)

Me: “Have they been worn?”

Customer: “OF COURSE NOT! GEEZ!”

(The customer got offended when I picked up her worn, dirty socks with a piece of tissue paper.)

Unfiltered Story #98573

, , | Unfiltered | October 26, 2017

*My manager is rather busy for the day, so he puts me in charge to oversee the whole store. A woman comes in with a plastic grocery bag.*

Woman: “I need to return this, I dropped it in my driveway. I want a new one.”
*I look inside to find a pint glass shattered in thousands of pieces*
Woman: “I want a new one for free.”
Me: “Sorry, we can’t do that ma’am.”
Woman: “Why not?”
Me: “You broke it yourself, you told me.”
Woman: “I want to speak to your manager.’
*He gave her a new one for free.*

Their Opinion On The Matter Is Locked

, , , , , | Right | October 19, 2017

(Our store door has three locks, one of which is an outer hasp which must be turned and locked with a key. It is right next to both the store’s hours and the “Closed” sign. I have locked the door and am nearly done with closing duties when a customer pulls on the door, then sees me and knocks insistently when it won’t open.)

Me: *opens door a little* “Hi—”

Customer: *overrides me* “Are you closed?”

Me: “Yes, sorry.”

Customer: “Well, you should’ve locked your door.”

(The customer then flipped the still-open hasp and walked off before I could inquire how, precisely, I was supposed to lock myself in from the outside while I was still in the store.)

A Disagreement To Bring The House Down

, , , , | Romantic | October 13, 2017

Early in my marriage, it became quickly apparent that my new wife had much higher, and therefore pricier, standards when it came to residences than I did. We were both from areas with much cheaper housing than Seattle, but at that time I was the only one who seemed to allow that to re-shape my expectations of where I could live. Sometimes I’d bring up a neighborhood I’d like to live in, and she’d recoil in horror; by her standards, such places were run-down and trashy, whereas by my standards they were quite reasonable and quaint.

One day we were driving on a particular stretch of highway that had notoriously bad traffic, and I noticed that my gas gauge was precariously low. I was coming up on the last exit before I would get onto the bridge heading into Seattle, and I wasn’t confident I could make it to the city on what I had, given the traffic. So, I took the exit and started looking for a gas station in the small township outside of Seattle. My wife was admiring the nice yards and homes and said calmly, “See? This is the kind of neighborhood I could live in.”

I replied, “Honey, this is Bill Gates’s neighborhood.” I gave her a “give me a break” look.

She got the message and saw her issue. Our standards still don’t match, but the gap is considerably smaller than it was.

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