(My partner is doing something involving computer code.)
Me: “What ‘cha doing?”
Partner: “Just a course on image analysis.”
Me: “What language is it in?”
Partner: *looks at me like I’m stupid* “English.”
Me: *laughing* “Man, you only know English; that wasn’t the question.”
Partner: “Oh! Matlab.”
(I’m working at the ticket desk at a museum. After visitors pay, we give them each a sticker to wear so security knows they’ve checked in. A couple with a few young kids have just finished paying.)
Me: “Here are some stickers for you all to wear; that way security knows you paid.”
Husband: “Can we put them anywhere?”
Me: “Yes, just so long as it’s visible.”
Husband: *to his wife, grinning* “Hold still. I need to put this on you.”
Wife: “What are you–”
Husband: *firmly plants the sticker on her breast, prodding it a few times*
Wife: *rolling her eyes* “Really?!”
Husband: “I had to make sure it was secure! And besides, the guy at the desk looked bored.” *gives me a thumbs-up*
Me: *awkward silence*
I was going on an Amtrak overnight trip to see my daughter and grandbabies. The train usually leaves the local station around 6:35 pm, so my husband said he’d take me to dinner.
There are a lot of nice places around there, so I thought this would be a nice send-off!
Wrong. (-Ish)
We had to go to a local big warehouse membership store for some treats for the grandkids. Said big warehouse membership store has a food court that sells, well, food.
Specifically, they sell a hot dog and drink for $1.50 plus tax.
Guess where my hubs ended up buying me dinner? At least he thought of me.
It’s still a great laugh.
I am playing the board game “Secret Hitler” with my wife and friends. It’s similar to “Werewolf,” in that you are assigned a role and have to keep it secret whether you are a good guy or a bad guy. The point of the game is to try to kill Hitler or get Hitler elected, and nobody is supposed to let on who their assigned role is.
It’s our first time playing this game. I have been dealt the card for Hitler, and my wife is reading out the instructions.
“Everybody close your eyes. Hitler and the fascist should open their eyes and acknowledge each other.”
We do so, and then there is a long pause while the other fascist and I wait for the next instruction. It takes a while to come and I get impatient.
“And then we close our eyes again?”
A disbelieving silence comes from the rest of the table, and then I speak again.
“S***.”
I work in a photo studio. After pictures are taken I show them and try to sell extras to the parents. These pictures are of a not-quite-two-year-old girl.
Mom:
“I don’t like any of these. They are all horrible.”
Dad:
“I like that one, and that one, too.”
Mom:
“No, God no, I hate those.”
Me:
“Well, you can always just get the few you like or reschedule and come back another day.”
Mom:
“I don’t want to come back here.”
We finish and order some photos. The mom goes off shopping as the dad pays while holding the little girl.
Dad:
“I’m sorry about my wife. She’s a f****** b****.”
Me:
“Uh… Oh, no, it’s fine.”
Dad:
“She’s lucky I’m still around.” *Looks at his daughter* “You’d better not turn out like her.”
Me:
“…and here is your receipt. Have a nice day!”
I turned and looked at my coworker with an OHMIGAWD face.
This story is part of the Photography roundup!
Read the next Photography roundup story!
Read the Photography roundup!
