(I teach at a bilingual school in Mexico. One day the English staff gets this notice:)
Notice: “Parents will be visiting campus on Friday. Please remember to wear pants.”
(As it turns out, they were reminding us not to wear jeans.)
(I work the night shift at a fast food place from 10:00 pm to 6:00 am. Needless to say, we get many strange or unusual customers, which I usually have to deal with due to working the front.)
Group Of Drunk Customers I See A Lot: *sees me* “AYYYYY! LEROY!”
(Leroy isn’t my name.)
Me: *grinning* “Hello!”
(That group proceeds to call me Leroy whenever I walk by or am just bagging orders.)
Drunk Girl: “Hey, [My Name]! What are you doing tonight?” *to her equally drunk friend* “If I show off my boobs will I get faster service?”
Me: *thinking the answer is obvious*
Drunk Girl: *in my direction, honestly I have no clue if she’s asking me* “If I sucked a d**k would I get faster service?”
(I am the TA in a seventh-grade math class. My teacher doesn’t have work for me to do at the moment, so I start playing games on my phone.)
Seventh Grader: “She’s on her phone!”
Me: “I’m allowed to be. I’m the TA.”
Other Seventh Graders: “Ooooooooh!”
(I’m still not sure why the other students acted like had I delivered a great burn.)
(I’m sick with a bad cold, so my husband brings me soup from a nearby Vietnamese restaurant.)
Me: “I should drink the broth for its healing powers. But there’s still some chunks of onion floating around. I don’t want to choke.”
Husband: *distracted by video game* “Killed by pho, huh?”
Me: “Oh, my God.”
(There’s a moment of silence, and then my husband pauses his game and looks at me with a smirk.)
Me & Husband: “Defeated by pho!”
Me: “That has to be my tombstone now. ‘Fought hard, was defeated by pho.’”
(I’m in a convenience store perusing the aisles when a couple of middle-aged blonde women walk down the aisle I’m on. I’m pretty sure they are tipsy, and they’re talking really loudly in thick southern accents… but I am in a good mood and they are all smiles and giggles, so I can’t bring myself to be annoyed. I see them staring at coffee brands before I walk to the next aisle over, and I can hear them on the other side of the aisle trying to sort out what coffee brand they should buy.)
Lady #1: *after a couple of minutes of loudly discussing it with her friend* “We should call someone over here to help. I can’t decide.”
Me: *snickers to myself as her friend starts bellowing*
Lady #2: “Blondes in aisle twelve need service! Blondes in aisle twelve need service, over!”
Me: *from opposite the rack on the adjacent aisle, in my best official mock-intercom voice* “Customer service suggests that the blondes on aisle twelve chose the [Brand], over.”
(They burst into laughter asking one another who the heck had said that. Meanwhile, I walked down the aisle with a grin on my face, and one of the employees told me that they ought to hire me for customer service. Made my day, and the women’s day, too.)
