Dressed To Impressionable

, , , | Romantic | November 28, 2018

(This takes place in the midwest of the USA in the 1970s. I wasn’t born at the time this story took place but I’ve heard it multiple times. My father is your stereotypical New Englander, which includes hating to spend money. When my parents first met, my dad owned two suits; he’d wear one all week, then take it to the dry cleaners and wear the second for a week. He also had only one belt, which Mom says “was held together by about 200 staples,” because he refused to spend money on a new belt. One of the first things she did when they got married was buy him several new suits. He has to go on a business trip and this is what happens when he returns.)

Dad: “You dressed me too nicely!”

Mom: “Why? What happened?”

Dad: “When I got into the elevator, a woman got in with me, leaned over, and whispered how nice I looked and asked if I would like to go back to her room!”

Mom: *trying not to laugh at Dad’s ignorance* “Honey, that was a prostitute!”

You Know You’ve Had A Tough Day When You Laugh At Dad Jokes

, , , , | Right | November 27, 2018

(I’m rebooking a caller’s appointment due to an issue at his property that’s out of our control.)

Me: “Okay, let’s see when we can get you rebooked in, shall we?”

Customer: “Sure thing.”

(I pull up the install diary, and the next appointment is well over a month away. Eight years of experience tells me this uneventful call is about to become eventful.)

Me: “Hmm, bear with me a few moments, if that’s okay; may I pop you on hold?”

Customer: “Okay, no problem.”

(I head over to a manager to see if there is anything to be done, knowing there isn’t, but I really can’t be bothered with the call escalation without asking them first, so I jump through the hoops. I take the customer off hold.)

Me: “Our next appointment is [date over a month away].”

Customer: “Is that a Saturday?”

Me: “Erm, yes it is.”

Customer: “Okay, fine, but answer me this first.”

Me: *bracing myself*

Customer: “What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?”

Me: *an audible sigh of relief as I laugh* “I… I don’t know. What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?”

Customer: “A STICK! See ya!”

Me: *laughing my head off* “Thanks, enjoy your day.”

(That man made a job that has really poorly affected my mental health much easier that day.)

Smiling Like The Cheshire Cheese Cat

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 26, 2018

Our cats have a raging addiction to sharp cheddar cheese. They also prefer it to be finely shredded. Because “finely-shredded, sharp cheddar cheese” is rather long to put on the grocery list, we instead write “cat cheese.”

I was grocery shopping when my husband called to ask when I’d be home. I answered, “I just need cat cheese and I’ll be checking out.”

The shopper about two paces in front of me abruptly stopped and turned to stare, obviously puzzled. She followed me to the cheese and watched me pick up a package. When I walked away, she started picking up different cheeses and examining them.

My husband and I had a good laugh speculating about her thoughts; maybe she was picturing a dairy barn with rows and rows of cats hooked up to milking machines?

 

Same Old (Social Media) Story

, , , , , | Friendly | November 25, 2018

(I am thirty-five years old.)

Me: “If you Instagram your Story, is it like Snapchat?”

Friend: “Yes.”

Me: “Hey, I did an Internet!”

Friend: “Gosh, you’re so old.”

When Your Education Is A Drain

, , , , , | Related | November 24, 2018

(I’m a pre-med biology student, home visiting my parents. There’s one bathroom at the top of the house that only I use, so any problems with it tend not to get handled until I come visit.)

Me: “Oh, by the way, do we have any drain cleaner? The sink in the upstairs bathroom is draining really slowly.”

Dad: “I’ll check. If not, I can pick some up when I run errands later.”

(He’s finishing his coffee as he speaks, and immediately leaves to go check.)

Mom: “I don’t know, sweetie. Those drain cleaners are pretty nasty, and ridiculously carcinogenic. Maybe you should let your dad do it.”

Me: “Um, Mom? You remember I’m a research student in a cell biology lab, right?”

Mom: “Yes. What’s your point?”

Me: “I’m literally ripping apart DNA and proteins, using chemicals dangerous enough that they have to be handled in a fume hood and you have to wear gloves and a respirator just to get the bottle out of the stock room.”

Mom: “Yes, but…”

Me: “Plus, I just got that internship at the hospital. The one with the oncology lab, that required three days of training about cross-contamination and safe chemical handling?”

Mom: *calling to my dad* “You know, dear, maybe we should let [My Name] handle it!”

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