Farmers And Husbands And Badges, Oh My!

, , | Friendly | April 19, 2018

(I work in a hotel. On Saturdays, there is an elderly man who comes in and sits in the lobby. We know him by name, and the people who have been there longer than I have have known him for years. I’ve only been there eight months, so he often asks me personal questions, but repeats them over and over. He’s harmless and sweet, so we just treat him politely.)

Man: “What’s your name?” *looks at my badge* “[Wrong Name]?”

Me: “Close. It’s [My Name].”

Man: “Have I told you about the farmers in Minnesota yet?”

Me: “Yes, you were the one who introduced me to that story.”

Man: “Oh, right.” *pause* “Does your husband work here, too?”

Me: “No.”

Man: “Where does he work?”

Me: *holding up my bare hand* “I’m not married.”

Man: “Oh! I thought you were married, so he’d work somewhere around here.”

Me: “Well, if you ever find my husband, be sure to tell him where I am!”

(He laughed and went back to the lobby chairs. Still no word on my hubby, though.)

It Would Be Nude To Not Ask

, , , , , | Friendly | April 13, 2018

(I’m at the park, sketching random people as they walk by. One guy comes up to me and sees what I’m doing.)

Guy: “Hey, that’s pretty good.”

Me: “Thank you.”

Guy: “So, do you artists also draw, like…. naked people?”

Me: “Uh… Occasionally. For study and stuff.”

Guy: “Cool. Can you draw me?”

(Before I could answer, he began stripping right in front of me, in full view of everyone. I grabbed my things and ran off. It’s been years, and I’ve yet to go back to that area in fear I’ll run into him again.)

Jehovah’s Witless, Part 13

, , , , , | Friendly | April 12, 2018

(I’m a woman, and I’ve stopped to fill up my tank. I’m the only one at the station. A red sports car comes up and parks on the opposite side of mine. A woman gets out and walks over to the trash can between the stations. She is rather oddly dressed: knee-high boots, leggings, tunic, jacket, and a scarf, so only her face and hands show.)

Woman: *throwing away a very tiny item* “Hi, how are you?”

Me: “Hello.”

Woman: “Do you know any deaf people who need help interpreting the Bible?”

Me: *confused look*

(I’m a bit surprised at the abrupt questioning, as we’ve only traded the barest of greetings. She apparently thinks my hesitation is over not knowing what deaf means, as she begins using hand gestures.)

Woman: “Do you know anyone who is deaf and needs help interpreting the Bible because they can’t hear? A deaf person who is unable to hear sounds, and needs help with the Bible?”

Me: *now really flummoxed* “Ah, no. I don’t.”

Woman: “Okay. The reason I ask is because we’re Jehovah’s Witnesses, and we’re looking for deaf people to help interpret the Bible so they understand the Word of God. We’re looking for people so we can go to their homes and help with reading the Bible.”

(She then stares at me for a few moments, as if waiting for me to comment on this. As I’m still trying to process that a complete stranger asked me for a deaf person’s address, I say nothing. She blinks, and then gets back in the car and zooms off, without getting any gas. It is only later that a thought occurs to me.)

Me: “Why would a deaf person need interpreters for the Bible? They can read!”

Jehovah’s Witless, Part 12
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 11
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 10

They Usually Go For Black Cats

, , , , | Friendly | April 9, 2018

(I own a very fluffy, friendly, and adorable puppy. It has gotten to the point where hearing somebody say, “Oh, my God!” while we are walking will make me stop so my pup can meet his new adoring fan. Most people will ask what breed he is or make generic comments about the amount of fluff and how sweet he is, but this one stands apart.)

Random Lady: “Oh, my God! That is not a dog; that is a stuffed animal you brought to life with black magic, you evil witch! Ooh, who’s a good doggie?! Oh, I just love how soft he is!” *continues with the usual praise I’ve heard a million times before*

They Should Be Sent To Bootcamp

, , , , , , | Friendly | April 8, 2018

My entire family used to be avid campers. Two or three times a summer my parents, aunt, uncles, and grandparents would all rent a large, shared campsite at a local family campground for a weekend. This is the worst camping trip we ever had; it was bad enough that my grandmother never went camping with us again after that.

Normally, it would just be the aforementioned people, plus my cousins, my sister, and me. This year, we got invited to camp with the college-age son of a family friend and all of his friends. We knew this son very well, but didn’t know his friends, but since he and his father were awesome and well-known to us, we didn’t think it would be a problem. First mistake.

First day there, they stole all of the expensive beer that my uncle brought — despite being underage, and despite the fact that he didn’t bring it to share with anyone but my grandfather — then got drunk and started throwing up all over the place. I also found out, years later, that my aunt had yelled at them when she caught them smoking pot around my sister and cousins and me.

My mom always over-packed snacks because she wanted to make extra sure my sister, cousins, and I always had something to snack on if we got hungry. The friends saw me get a box of granola bars from the back of our car to share with my cousins and realized there was food in there, then helped themselves, completely clearing out all of the snacks in our car by the next morning. They never once asked for permission.

The next morning, my grandmother made eggs for my diabetic grandfather’s breakfast. The second they were cooked, the friends walked over to her stove, took the skillet, and ate the entire thing themselves without even saying a word to her. My grandfather had nothing to eat and almost had a sugar low. They didn’t even bring the skillet back when they were done, and she had to figure out where they left it; apparently someone just tossed it aside in the dirt. They then ate the cereal, cereal bars, and oatmeal my mom brought for our breakfast, so there was nothing for my sister and me to eat. We had to get breakfast from a neighboring campsite where, thankfully, we had become friends with the children of the campers in the site the day before, and they were sympathetic enough to give us some trail mix.

The friends wouldn’t stop leaving all the coolers wide open, so all the ice for our meat and drinks melted completely in the summer heat of noon. They offered to go out to a store and get more, so everyone pitched in money to pay for it. They came back with tons of raw chicken that no one asked for and not a single bag of ice, because they “forgot.” We ended up having to cook the chicken, plus all of the burgers and hot dogs everyone brought that day — otherwise it would have spoiled without ice — and it was way too much food for everyone. They then took the leftovers and threw it all into the woods, so we had tons of feral cats, raccoons, foxes, and even a freaking black bear in our camp in the middle of the night that night.

The absolute worst thing they did was forget me in a boulder field. One of the main draws of the campground is a prehistoric boulder field left behind by the Ice Age. People will go down there and climb on the rocks during the day and look at stars during the night. Our campsite wasn’t that far from the boulder field, so they decided to go climb on the rocks and brought my sister, one of my cousins, and me with them. We were only allowed to go because my parents assumed that the family friend was going with them and would watch us; they had no idea he was actually headed somewhere else on his own. When the friends left the rocks, they failed to do a headcount and left without me. I wasn’t even that far out on the rocks and was still within their line of sight, and they still didn’t notice they were leaving me. I didn’t even realize they had left and was still sitting there on a rock by myself, staring out at the rest of the field, when a father with three kids walked by and saw me alone and called to me to get my attention out of concern that I might be lost. By then, my mom and aunt were running frantically down the path, screaming my name, after they returned to the campsite without me. My parents told me we weren’t allowed to go with them anywhere, anymore, even if the one person we knew said he would be with them.

By noon the next day, they had drunk every soda, bottled water, and juice box that my mom had brought for my sister and me, ate every bit of food that they hadn’t already devoured the first and second day, drank every bottle of beer anyone brought, and not once did they ask if it was okay for them to take any of it. My sister and I were six and eight years old respectively, so we started crying because we were hungry and thirsty. My mom was furious because, even after all the food and drinks she brought, she couldn’t feed us at all due to their theft. My dad was boiling creek water so that we wouldn’t get dehydrated because of how hot it was that day.

We were supposed to be there for three more days, and already we were out of everything, so my family called it. We packed up the tents and gear. All the while, the friends couldn’t understand why we refused to stay there with them any longer, having completely ignored all of the complaints from my family members throughout the weekend. My grandmother says it was likely they assumed we’d stay and just give them more money to replace what they stole so they could steal it again, but after the chicken incident, no one trusted them to actually buy what we asked them to. If we went out and bought what we needed ourselves, they’d just take it without asking, and we’d be back to the same problem again.

We’ve been asked to go camping with them again several times since, but we have all made it clear that we’d sooner share our campsite with the black bear again than with them.


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