You Should Quilt While You’re Ahead

, , , | Friendly | September 6, 2017

(My fiancé and I are on the market for a nice cabinet/wardrobe for storing my crafts. I decide to stop by this well-known furniture store and see if they have what I’m looking for. I’m greeted multiple times, before finally stopped by a woman who asks me what I’m looking for. After explaining, she shows me to a very nice Amish cabinet that’s a bit out of our budget, but I’m still willing to get a picture and show it to my fiancé.)

Sales Woman: “What are your plans for this?”

Me: *as I’m measuring the depth* “I’m into crafts, so I need a place to store them.”

Sales Woman: “Oh? What kind of crafts?”

Me: “I sew, mostly quilting, as a hobby.”

Sales Woman: “Going to turn it into a business? Quilts are popular around here.”

Me: “I’ve thought about it. Maybe. It might be nice.”

Sales Woman: “What kind of sewing machine do you have? Or do you sew by hand?”

Me: “Both, but I do have a [popular brand] that’s a bit on the big side, but designed to look like one of antiques. It’s gorgeous. My grandmother’s thinking of passing down my great-grandmother’s [sewing machine] to me. Not sure where we’ll hide that one.”

Sales Woman: “Oh! My great-grandmother passed down some quilts to me, made from muslin. Solid quilts, but they need to be stretched out and re-stitched. Let me get your name, number, and address, and you can fix them for me!”

Me: “Wai- What? No. I-I…”

(I start to panic, because I don’t like giving out my information to anyone I don’t know. I’m a beginner who has never worked with muslin before in the first place, much less something antique.)

Me: “It’s probably better for you to get someone with more experience to touch it up for you.”

Sales Woman: “But I’d really like this done inexpensively.”

Me: *I’m stepping back now because the woman keeps getting closer to me with a pen and paper.* “I’d really recommend you afford the extra costs to have someone with experience handle those. I can barely sew a corner correctly without tearing up the fabric because I’m so new to sewing. And since it’s your great-grandmother’s heirloom, I would feel horrible if I damaged the fabrics in any way.”

Sales Woman: “That’s not a problem. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just give me your number and address and we’ll get started. We’ll work out prices later.”

Me: *I trip over a coffee table trying to back away and I can feel an anxiety attack coming on* “No, thanks! Ask someone else.”

(I turned and started rushing away from her as fast as I could, but unfortunately, I had to walk to the back of the store, round a corner, and skirt along the wall of the store just to get out, because she blocked the way to the exit and followed me halfway through the store before giving up. I’m never going back again.)

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In A Bothersome Spot

, , , , | Friendly | September 5, 2017

(I am at the DMV to renew my driver’s license… and it is MOBBED. There is a line of roughly 20 cars circling round-and-round the lot looking for a space to park. There is one car parked to the side with the four-way flashers on. I pass her several times, as does everyone else in line. When a spot opens up, I take it. I get out, and she pulls up.)

Driver: “Didn’t you see me?! I was waiting for a spot!”

Me: “We were all waiting for a spot. You were parked off to the side.”

Driver: “Well, that’s my spot!”

Me: “Sorry.” *casually walks inside*

(I was not sorry. When you see 20 other cars in a line, circling a parking lot, looking and waiting for a space to open up… you get in line and hope for the best. You don’t park off to the side and assume someone’s going to say, “Oh…that lady back there…maybe she was waiting for a spot. I’ll just go ahead and leave it for her.”)

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In A Jungle Jumble

, , , , , | Related | September 5, 2017

I have very light skin and come from a not very diverse area. My first exposure to people with darker skin tones was when I saw Mowgli in The Jungle Book.

When I was about three-and-a-half years old, I was at the store with my father and, to my amazement, I saw a black man. I immediately asked my dad, loud enough that everyone could hear, “IS HE FROM THE JUNGLE?!”

My dad apologized to the man and hurried out of the store, leaving his cart full of items behind.  

I got a huge lecture in the car, and my father did his shopping elsewhere for a few months. My dad will never let me live this down.

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Beat The Entitlement Before You Beat The Level

, , , , | Friendly | September 5, 2017

(I am going to visit my grandparents in India for the summer. The first leg of our trip is from one city in the US to another. On the airplane, I have brought my portable console, which is new and is in high-demand. That means whenever I bring it around, people ask if they can play on it. Due to a mix-up on the plane, all of my family is sitting in different places except for my sleeping sister and me.)

Me: *playing game*

Little Kid: “Whoa! Is that [New Console]? Can I play?”

Me: “Okay, after I finish this level.”

(The little kid seems fine with this. But suddenly, his mother butts in.)

Mother: “Hey, [Kid], do you want to play on that man’s console?”

Little Kid: “Yeah, but he’s beating a level right now.”

Mother: *suddenly extremely angry* “What the heck? Excuse me, let my child play his game!”

Me: “Oh, no, he can play, but I’m in the middle of a level right now. Right now he’s watching me play.”

Little Kid: “Whoa! What weapon is that? That’s not in multiplayer, is it?”

Me: “No, but you can unlock it in-“

Mother: “I can’t BELIEVE you! Why are you not letting him play?”

Me: “Because I am in the middle of finishing a level…”

Mother: “But WHY? I don’t care about your stupid game; just let my child play!”

Me: *pauses game* “Uhh….”

Mother: “IF YOU DON’T LET MY CHILD PLAY HIS GAME, I’LL GET UP AND TAKE IT FROM YOU!”

Me: “It’s not his game. It’s my game.”

Mother: “WAIT! YOU LIAR! THAT’S [Kid]’s GAME! THAT’S HIS CONSOLE! YOU STOLE IT FROM HIM!”

Little Kid: “No, Mom, I have the other console, remember? The game he’s playing is the sequel to the game I have.”

Mother: “NOT RIGHT NOW, [Kid]!” *reaches for my game*

Me: *jerks back* “What the h***?”

(Now, the little kid is in between me and his mom, so she can’t really reach me from where she’s sitting. Realizing her efforts are in vain, she starts mashing the button to call a flight attendant.)

Me: “The plane is going up right now. I don’t think the flight attendant is going to come.”

Mother: *unbuckles her seat-belt and starts getting up*

Little Kid: “Whoa! Mom! Stop it!”

Mother: *literally FALLS onto her kid since the plane is going up*

Little Kid: “Stop!” *screams*

(This is enough to wake my sister up. The kid’s mom manages to squirm her way back into her seat, and continues to spout insults and threats.)

Mother: “When the flight attendant comes, I’ll make sure my kid gets his console and they will kick you off the flight!”

Sister: “Ma’am, look out the window. I don’t think the pilots are gonna be kicking anyone out anytime soon.”

Mother: *realizes what she said* “Augh! I hate you little Mexican brats!”

Me: *shocked, because we’re not even Mexican and don’t look like it*

Sister: “All right, once the plane starts cruising, I’m getting a staff member to move you.”

Little Kid: *starts crying*

Me: *gives the kid the game*

Little Kid: *starts playing*

Mother: “HA! See?! You stupid-a** Mexicans think you can get away with anything! Well, you CAN’T!”

Flight Attendant: “All right, I heard the last thing you just said, ma’am, and I’d like someone to tell me what’s going on.”

(The people behind us talk to the flight attendant.)

Flight Attendant: “All right, ma’am, I’m going to ask you to move so you don’t bother anyone else.”

Mother: *excited* “Are we getting promoted to first class?”

Flight Attendant: “…No.”

(In the end, I beat the level. The flight attendant wanted to give us alcohol for free until we told him we were underage, so they just gave it to the people behind us, and we had an amazing flight. Our family didn’t even believe what we told them.)

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Should Be Carted Away

, , , , | Friendly | September 1, 2017

(I am shy, but can handle being around small crowds. My mom is the complete opposite: outgoing and unafraid to say what she thinks. While out shopping, my mom leaves me with the cart in the middle of produce section. I push myself to the side to not be in people’s way. The cart already has some items in it, and I am standing close to it while looking at some fruit. All of a sudden, an old man comes and takes the cart.)

Me: “Excuse me; I believe that is my cart, not yours.”

Old Man: *looks at me like I have three heads, frowns, and leaves with the cart*

(I told my mom and she got mad at me, and sent me to get another cart. As we were moving to another section of the store, I saw the old man look into his cart, realize it wasn’t his, and just push it away in rage.)

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