That’s Mister Doctor Professor [Last Name] To You!

, , , , | Learning | September 15, 2020

I’m attending my first ever class on my first ever day of university, an 8:00 am general chemistry class. My professor makes some things very clear very quickly.

Professor: “My office is in [Building], but be careful asking for me by name! There’s another Doctor [His Last Name], and, naturally, his office is also in [Building]. He’s on the third floor with all the other biologists and I’m on the fourth with the other chemists. Remember, my first name is [First Name] and his is not. I repeat, my name is [First Name] and his is not, so just call me Doctor [First Name], instead.”

After this, he pauses before adding:

Professor: “One of us is good and one of us is evil, but I’ll let you figure out which of us is which on your own.”

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Good Thing The Boss Didn’t Ovary-act

, , , , , | Working | September 9, 2020

I am a commercial electrician, which means I work on fairly large projects on a few acres of land or multiple-story buildings. We construction workers tend to screw around with green hands — new workers — often. Some of us dislike it — I particularly don’t like it — but this kid is on a new level.

We are having a slow day, mainly waiting on material.

Foreman: “Hey, [Green Hand], can you go check with [Supply Manager] to see if we have any fallopian tubes?”

A few of us stifle laughter but I am thinking there’s no way he’ll fall for that.

Green Hand: “Fallopian tubes? How many?”

Foreman: “One or two is fine.”

Green Hand: “Okay, I will be back in a bit.”

All of us burst out laughing after he leaves, even us who normally would stop it. It’s about a five-minute walk to the supply area. The rest of the story I am informed of later. 

Green Hand: “Hey, [Supply Manager], do we have any fallopian tubes?”

Manager: *Without skipping a beat* “No, I don’t think we do. You should check with [Superintendent]. He may have an idea.”

He walks to our super’s office, which is another five-minute walk.

Green Hand: “Hey, [Superintendent], do we have any fallopian tubes on order?” 

He asks this in front of a lot of higher-ups, and our superintendent normally doesn’t have tolerance for people screwing around, but [Green Hand] caught him on a good day. [Superintendent] sighs and grabs his radio.

Superintendent: “Who’s screwing with the new guy? Because I have to admit, that’s pretty funny.” *To [Green Hand]* “Hey, kid, when they ask you to get a part you’ve never heard of, Google it before asking anybody next time.”

[Green Hand] looks confused, pulls out his phone, and then pulls out his radio.

Green Hand: “Funny, guys. Very funny.”

Some people might find it mean, but the green hand learned two lessons: always check, and if it sounds stupid, there’s a 70% chance it isn’t a part or tool.

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The Incredible Squeaking Dad

, , , , , | Related | September 7, 2020

There’s no way to say this without sounding like a sadist, so I’m just gonna say it: it is REALLY FUNNY to cause my dad pain. I’m not talking serious injury here — that’s never funny — but rather small things like poking, pinching, or pulling out splinters. That sort.

When you do that to my dad he will immediately jump, shriek, and then — if it’s one of us kids — scream in near falsetto things like, “Don’t do that!” or, “Stop that!” or, “I don’t LIKE that!” while ineffectively flailing and trying to hit his aggressor.

For years, our whole family laughs at him whenever this happens, which just makes him angrier and his voice goes even higher, which makes us laugh harder. He also seems to be convinced that we are the only people on Earth who find his “genuine throes of distress” hilarious.

Then, one day, he calls me out of the blue.

Dad: “Okay. I admit it.”

Me: “Admit what?”

Dad: “It’s pretty funny how I react to pain.”

Me: “It is. What brought this on?”

Dad: “I just got back from physical therapy. They gave me a massage and I would yell every time they poked me where it hurts. By the time they were done, both the therapist and nurse were laughing. And apparently, the rooms aren’t very soundproof, because when I went out to the waiting room, everyone out there was giggling, too.”

Me: “That’s amazing.”

Dad: “Yeah, so I guess it is pretty funny. I still don’t like it when you poke me, though!”

Me: “Completely understandable! Love you, bye!”

Yes, I do bring this up every time he’s complained that I’m being a sadist ever since.

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The Mysterious Case Of The Night Howlers

, , , , , , , | Working | September 4, 2020

The office I work at has normal daytime hours, then at a certain time switches over to emergencies only for the night, then we close for an hour before the day shift comes in. Night shift doesn’t see day shift except in the evenings. Overnight, we run with a skeleton crew: one tech, one front desk, and one doctor. I work night shift.

One night, I’m helping a patient in from the parking lot when we hear an ungodly scream. It sounds like the loudest, angriest cat scream I have ever heard. I turn around, and sitting in the middle of the parking lot is a tiny kitten, eight weeks old at the most. While I watch, it screams again.

I keep pushing the hurt dog on his stretcher to get him in the door, and then I let the front desk know there is a kitten outside, so let’s leave the door open and see if it comes inside. We can’t go out and get it because if you try and chase them they might run into the road or get scared and run off to who knows where.

A few hours later, we hear screaming from the side of the building. The kitten is sitting in the window staring into the treatment room. We open the window and it bolts.

Around midnight, I’m taking the trash out the back door and there is the kitten, sitting just out of reach and screaming. I set a feral cat trap in the back lot and put a note on the treatment board to check the trap for success every hour.

There’s no sign of it after midnight, and the next evening, when I come in for the day shift, I ask and they tell me they think the kitten ran off, because none of them saw any sign of it. As soon as the day shift leaves, we hear the screaming again.

This goes on for almost a week. Everyone on night shift low key hates this little jerk of a cat and the day shift thinks we are all crazy because they haven’t seen any trace of it. Finally, our medical director gives us permission to actively try and catch it since the screaming is bothering clients; if it runs away and never comes back, so be it.

The next night, our tech brings a bucket outside with her when she takes out the trash and throws it over the kitten. We finally got the jerk! We throw him, still screaming, into a kennel and label the cage “Howler Kitten.” We’ll do an exam and vaccines and everything we need to do to get Howler adopted later. Due to emergencies, we don’t get a chance to do anything to him that night.

The next evening, I come in and the first thing I do is go check on the prisoner. Somebody has drawn a line through “Howler” and written in “Sweetie”. I talk to the day shift and they explain that he hasn’t screamed all day, he’s the sweetest little thing, and they don’t understand why we were so annoyed with his meows; they are so soft and cute. He never screams again the whole time he is with us up until we find him his forever home. Night shift still low-key hates this cat for making us look like liars.

Six months later, it’s a slow night and I’m raking the parking lot and I hear the same scream. My first thought is, “Dang it, he ran away from his new home and came back to torture us again.” I turn, and deja vu, there’s a kitten the same color that looks eight weeks old. My next thought is, “We are not doing this again!”

I drop the rake and charge towards the kitten. I chase it down the street until it darts under a parked car and screams again. I reach into the wheel well and grab it by the scruff, and then I take my hissing, screaming captive back to the office. We put her in the kennel, and this time we take a video of her screaming at the food we gave her… while she is eating it. I did not know it was possible to scream and swallow at the same time, but she does it.  

Night shift names the new kitten Alouatta, the genus that howler monkeys belong to; we looked it up. The next evening, her name has been changed to Pickles, but they change it back after I show them the video. 

We are convinced they are half-siblings at least, and that somewhere out there is a feral cat telling her kittens that the easy way to get food is to “go to the humans and scream” while neglecting to mention that after screaming you have to get close to the humans. Neither of them ever made that scream sound again. We are still waiting to see if another sibling shows up; it’s been a year now so maybe there won’t be any more.

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That One Is Guaranteed To Have No Calories

, , | Right | September 3, 2020

During the lunch and dinner shifts, we have an all-you-can-eat buffet, including a selection of pizzas, salads, and chips, as well as dessert. It is the Saturday lunch shift. I worked until late last night at another job, and I have only had about five hours of sleep when my manager calls me to ask if I can cover a shift for a girl who just didn’t show up.

In addition to being sleep deprived, I am annoyed at my coworker and peeved that I am unable to do any school work that day because I have to come in. When I am tired, I have a bad habit of being snarky.

Customer: “Excuse me, miss?”

Me: “Yes?”

They point to the pizza buffet.

Customer: “Could you tell me what pizzas these are?”

Me: “Sure. This is a pepperoni, that’s a Hawaiian, and those are the spicy and the vegetarian.”

Customer: “What is that one?”

They point to an empty tray. I am unable to stop myself.

Me: “Invisible pizza.”

The customer has a surprised blink and then bursts out laughing. I realise how rude that was.

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am—”

Customer: “That’s all right, dear, that was very clever!”

She had meant to ask what kind of pizza normally went in the empty place. Luckily for me, she had a good sense of humour!

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