This Is So Not “OK”

, , , , , , | Friendly | June 26, 2020

I’ve parked my car and rushed to get a parking coupon from a machine. You put coins in the machine and press the “OK” button, it prints you a coupon that states how long you can park your car, and you have to put that coupon inside your car window.

I’ve just put coins in the machine and am searching for more when somebody right beside me reaches for the “OK” button. When I turn my head to see what is happening, there is an elementary school kid, nine or so and probably on his way from school, frantically pressing the “OK” button, looking at me. I just stare at him and suddenly, he runs off.

The machine processes the transaction and after a while, it prints me a ticket that has too little parking time for me to use.

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What About “If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…”?

, , , , , | Related | June 25, 2020

My son is four and is learning that some truths are best left unsaid. A larger lady with close-cropped hair joins the queue behind us.

Son: “Mummy, look at that really fat man!”

Me: “Darling, that’s a lady, and you should be polite!”

Son: “So, she is really fat, just not a man?”

Me: “What would you do if someone said that to you?”

Son: “I would crash through the floor, and then through the earth, and then into the lava.”

Lady: *Having heard everything* “Then I’m taking you with me, sunshine! Better start running away now; keep you nice and slim!”

My son shrieked and laughed, and now remembers that exercise keeps you healthy. Thank you to the lady for being so understanding!

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Enunciation Is SO Important

, , , , , | Friendly | June 25, 2020

I’m at a large car boot sale with my family — think a market but it’s the general public that sells things they don’t want anymore, typically out the boot of their car. With us is my sister and her one- or two-year-old daughter who’s rather non-vocal. We are white. We’re not walking together and I’ve stopped at a black family’s stall to browse what they’ve got.

Niece: *Very loud and enthusiastic* “[Really derogatory term for black people]!”

I freeze and the black family freezes. People around us freeze.

Niece: *Just as loud and enthusiastic* “[Really derogatory term for black people]!”

I look over and my niece is pointing over at me and the black family. My sister has a look of horror and “Oh, f***, where did she learn that?!” on her face, which I imagine I do, too, and neither of us knows what to do.

My niece continues to be super happy and oblivious in the way only toddlers can manage.

Niece: “Hi, Aunty [really derogatory term for black people]!”

Realisation dawns.

Sister: “Do… Are you calling over to Aunty [My Name]?”

Niece: “Yeah, look, it’s Aunty [really derogatory term for black people]!”

I apologised to the black family, who thought it was hysterical, and I stayed with my sister and niece so as not to have a repeat. We later worked on the pronunciation of my name.

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Poo Asks That?!

, , , , | Friendly | June 22, 2020

My wife’s family is French, and we try to get over to visit them a couple of times a year. I love my in-laws, but they can be quite outgoing at times, and as a thirty-eight-year-old Autistic man, I find this a bit tiring.

For Christmas a couple of years ago, we were staying with my wife’s sister, her husband, and their son. My wife likes to keep me informed when we are about to meet people so I can prepare myself mentally and emotionally. I’m usually all right once I meet them; it’s just the thought of meeting new people for the first time that makes me anxious.

On this occasion, my wife told me that her sister’s husband’s brother would be visiting with his wife, and told me a little bit about them so I knew roughly what to expect.

When they arrive, I am in the bathroom, so I am unable to properly say hello. I hear them arrive and go through the typical French greeting of a kiss on each cheek. I finish in the bathroom and go to the room where my wife and I are sleeping to grab something, planning to head for the living room and say hello properly.

I turn to leave the room when I am met by a woman at the door, who I assume is the wife in the couple. The following brief conversation happens, in French:

In-Law: “You must be [My Name]!”

Me: “Yes.”

She tells me her name, but I can’t make it out because she speaks so fast.

In-Law: “Okay, hello.”

She shakes my hand instead of kissing my cheeks.

In-Law: “Was your poo good, then?”

Me: *Utterly mortified* “Uh… yes?”

She grins and walks off. I stay in the bedroom, trying not to cry. In my head, I am thinking, “What the actual h*** is wrong with this woman? WHO ACTUALLY ASKS THAT?!”

I decide not to leave the bedroom and instead lay on the bed, reading. Eventually, my wife comes to see what is wrong. The following conversation happens in English:

Wife: “Here you are, [My Name]!”

Me: “Hi.”

Wife: “Are you coming to say hello?”

Me: “Maybe.”

My wife notices something is wrong.

Wife: “Is everything all right?”

Me: “Yes.”

My wife eventually persuaded me to tell her what was wrong, and tearfully, I told her about my “encounter.” She was disgusted and horrified, and she apologised profusely. I told her that the only person I wanted an apology from was “the stupid b*** in the living room who thinks she’s a f****** comedian!” My wife told me I could stay in the bedroom until the visitors left, so I did. She asked me if I’d like her to tell her sister what happened, but I asked her not to because I was too embarrassed.

I haven’t seen this woman since the incident, but if I ever meet her again I’ll have to bite my tongue because I have a few choice words for her!

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It’s Either Adoption Or Kidnapping

, , , , | Friendly | June 21, 2020

My two kids are adopted. I’m Caucasian; they’re Latino. When they are toddlers, I make friends with a Latina nanny in my town whose charge is a typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed Caucasian. 

We take the kids out to a museum and a store, with her pushing her charge in a stroller and me pushing my kids in a double stroller. The kids are all giggling and babbling while my friend and I stop to look at something in the store and a random woman comes by.

Woman: *Looking at my kids* “Oh, aren’t you two adorable.” *Turning to my friend* “Are they yours?”

Me: “No, they’re mine.”

The woman gets “Surprised Pikachu” face.

Friend: “This one’s mine.”

She points to the little boy she watches.

Woman: “But… how…?”

She just sort of wandered away, occasionally looking back at us with a perplexed face. I think we broke her.

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