Kids These Days… Waiting Their Turn!

, , , , , | Friendly | February 16, 2018

(My husband and I have just settled in at an RV park for vacation and I realize we are out of bread for sandwiches. As it is almost lunch time, I quickly run to the grocery store across the street. I grab a bag of bread and head to the check out. A woman is currently in the process of checking out, with a massive amount of items on the conveyor belt. The two ladies in front of me also have a cart that is piled high with food. An elderly couple bring their cart into line behind me, which is about half full. One of the women in front of me speaks up.)

Younger Woman: “Excuse me, would you like to cut in front of me?”

(I look up from looking at the snacks, thinking she might be speaking to me. Instead, she is leaning around me to speak to the elderly couple behind me. I’m a little shocked, but quietly stand between them as they talk.)

Elderly Man: “Oh, were you speaking to me?”

Younger Woman: “Yes. Would you like to cut ahead of us, sir? Since you don’t have as many items.” *pointing at his cart*

Elderly Man: “That’s all right. We don’t mind waiting. Thank you for your offer.”

(The elderly man’s wife leans in and has a hurried whispering conversation with him, gesturing towards the ladies’ cart. At that moment, a manager walks up.)

Manager: “Hi, I can take whoever is next on this register over here in a minute!”

(I’m about to respond, when the two women ahead of me start arguing about if they should pack up what few items they already have on the belt and move over to the other line. The elderly customers behind me start beaming and immediately respond.)

Elderly Man: “Why, thank you very much!” *to his wife* “We’ll move to that line, sweetie.”

Me: *meekly* “Um… I think I was next… and all I have is one item, so…”

(All of them suddenly look at me like I just popped up out of thin air! The elderly couple give me a sour look as I scurry over to the open register and put my one bag of bread on the belt. The wife makes a big show of huffing and sighing the whole time. The manager then walks away, and we wait several moments, with the elderly woman glaring daggers the whole time. A cashier comes hurrying behind the register and quickly checks me out in less than a minute. As I stuff my bread into my shopping bag and quickly leave, I hear a parting shot:)

Elderly Woman: “Kids these days! No respect for their elders!”

(I didn’t realize that by politely waiting in line with my one item, I had been so disrespectful!)

Telling Her To Take A Hitchhike

, , , , | Friendly | February 15, 2018

(I’m driving from Ohio to California. It’s the middle of the day, on a long stretch of empty highway. I see a guy walking with a nice-looking suitcase, with his thumb out looking for a ride. I don’t normally take hitchhikers, but this guy is well-dressed, and I have a long way to go, so why not? I pull over and offer a ride, the guy thanks me and puts his stuff in the back, and we get going.)

Hitchhiker: “Hi, my name is [Hitchhiker].”

Me: “Hi, car break down?”

(The guy sighs and rubs his face.)

Hitchhiker: “No, it’s my anniversary with my girlfriend of four years, and we were going to stay at this B&B a few miles up the road.”

Me: “Sounds romantic.”

Hitchhiker: “Yeah, the place looked really nice.”

Me: “So, why aren’t you there now? Fight? “

Hitchhiker: “No… Not really. She insisted we take her car. We get there, the place is amazing. She goes to check us in and I get the bags. She comes out and leads me to our place, a little cabin off the main house. She opens the door and there is this guy there. I think we have the wrong room. Nope, turns out this is her new boyfriend. I just turned, walked out, and kept walking.”

Me: “Well, at least you got your clothes.”

Hitchhiker: *laughs* “Nah, my stuff isn’t worth much. I have her clothes. I want to see how cute the guy thinks she is when she doesn’t have 12 pounds of makeup on.”

(He laughed again. We talked the entire 150 miles to his home.)

Hair-Curlingly Bad Behavior

, , , , | Friendly | February 15, 2018

(I’m just finishing checking out at a grocery store and I have my son with me. He’s just under two years old, loves everyone, and has very distinctive blonde curls in his hair. He is sitting happily in the seat of the shopping cart. I am in the process of paying when I hear an older woman’s voice behind me.)

Woman: “Oh, don’t you just have the most amazing curls?!”

(I turn around and see her with both of her hands in my son’s hair.)

Me: “Um, ma’am, please don’t touch my son.”

Woman: *not removing her hands or even looking at me* “But his curls are just so delicious!”

Me: “Thank you, but I’m not comfortable with strangers touching his hair.”

Woman: “He doesn’t mind! Do you? Do you? Can I have a curl? Can I?” *pinches one of his curls between her fingers*

Me: “He’s two. I’ve asked you nicely not to touch him. Please stop.”

(At this point she finally takes her hands off him.)

Woman: *huffy* “Well, there’s no need to be rude about it.”

Walking Tall After The Fall

, , , , , , , | Friendly | February 14, 2018

(I’m driving to my evening class in my beat-up little car, and I pull off the freeway and take the off-ramp towards the college. I stop at the red light at the top of the hill, but the car behind me doesn’t and ends up rear-ending me. It doesn’t feel like a hard hit, so, as soon as I can, I slowly pull through the intersection and head immediately into the parking lot of the strip mall next to me. The other car, which looks equally as old as mine, follows me and parks in a nearby spot. I can see the two guys in the front seat and they are freaking out a bit. I get out of the car, and as soon as they see me, they panic more. I’m a big guy — well over six feet tall, and 300+ pounds of muscle — with a full beard.)

Me: “Hey, you guys all right?”

(They get out of the car, but they never take their eyes off me. I’m almost a foot taller than them, and I can see them shaking.)

Driver: “D-d-dude! Oh, man, dude! I am so sorry! It was just a little bump, dude!”

Passenger: “Yeah, man, we’re so sorry!”

(I walk to the back of my car and take a look. There’s barely a little dent in my back bumper, so I check the front of their car, too, and it doesn’t even look like there’s any damage at all. The whole time, the two guys are shaking, fidgeting, and apologizing profusely. I’m starting to feel really bad for them, as they look young, and I’m sure they are scared of me.)

Me: “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any real damage. So, we don’t need to bother calling anyone. Are you two okay?”

(They immediately relax and smile, and the driver kind of does a funny little jump-dance thing.)

Driver: “Yeah, man! No, we’re all right! Yeah!”

Passenger: “Dude, we’re cool! We’re all cool! You want a beer?”

(In horror, I watch as the passenger pulls a nearly-empty six-pack out of the front seat and tries to hand me the last bottle. I have no more pity for these idiots. I bring myself up to my full height, clench my fists, and put on my scariest face.)

Me: *in a deeper voice as I glare at the driver* “Were you drinking?!”

(They immediately freeze in place, their faces go pale, and they look at me in wide-eyed terror. The driver looks like he might pass out as he stutters:)

Driver: “Um… Uh… We… Uh…”

Passenger: “Uh… Well… Just a little.”

Me: “Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid that is?! You could kill someone! I ought to call the police right now! Your a***es deserve to be in jail!”

Driver: *full-on panicking*Wait! No! Please, no! No! My parents would kill me! Please! We’ll do anything!”

Me: “Anything?!”

Driver: “Anything, man! Anything! Just don’t call the cops!”

(I step forward, and they both flinch like I’m going to hit them, but instead, I grab the remaining beer out of the passenger’s hand, pull out my keys, and pop the top. I turn the bottle upside down and pour it out on the ground at their feet. I step back and get in the driver’s face.)

Me: *in my most intimidating voice* “Lock your car and walk! Sober up, and never drive drunk again! DO. YOU. GET. ME?!”

Driver: *shaking and absolutely terrified* “Y-Yes!”

(I turn and get in the face of the passenger.)

Me: “DO. YOU. GET. ME?!”

Passenger: *cowering and equally terrified* “Y-Yes, sir!”

Me: “NOW, WALK!”

(They stood still for a moment before I bellowed, “WALK!” again, and the passenger took off down the strip mall while the driver fumbled with his keys to lock his door, and then ran to catch up with his friend. I stood watching them jog all the way to the end of the parking lot and across the street before I got back in my car and headed to class. My class was four hours long, so I didn’t get out until almost 11 pm, but when I did, I headed back to the freeway and saw that the guy’s car was still there.)

I’ve Told Them A Brazillion Times

, , , , , | Friendly | February 13, 2018

(My friend was born in Brazil. When he first moved to Australia, he spoke no English, but has since become fluent. This is a conversation I’ve witnessed a few too many times.)

Person: “So, you speak Brazilian, right?”

Friend: “There’s no such language as Brazilian. Brazilian people speak Portuguese.”

Person: “Why do Brazilians speak Portuguese instead of Brazilian? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Friend: “Why do Australians speak English instead of Australian? That doesn’t make any sense.”

(At this point, the other person’s mind usually implodes a little.)

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