The Party Stops Here

, , , , | Friendly | January 13, 2020

(I’m on the late bus after a long day at work. There are several other people scattered around, all of them looking just as exhausted and ready to get home as I feel. About halfway home, a guy gets onto the bus who seems pretty tweaked out. He is twitching and mumbling to himself. He goes and sits down, and after a minute, reaches over to poke the lady sitting in the row ahead of him.)

Man: “Hey. Hey.”

Woman: *looking tired and a bit uncomfortable* “What?”

Man: “Where you heading?”

Woman: “I’m going home.”

Man: “I’m going to a party.”

(The woman nods and then turns away a bit.)

Man: “Hey. Hey. You want to come? It’s a party, a fun party. It’ll be a fun party.”

Woman: “No, thanks. I’m headed home. My daughter’s waiting for me.”

Man: “Hey. Hey. I was just asking, you know, if you wanted to come to the party. It’ll be a fun party.”

(The woman didn’t respond, but she did start gathering her things. The man tried to ask her to come to the party a couple more times, and then, after a couple of stops, she stood up and headed to get off the bus. The man watched her blankly before he started struggling to his feet. I got up, too, and planted myself in the aisle, preventing him from getting past and just staring down at him. He looked between me and the woman before finally sitting back down and mumbling to himself. I stayed standing for a bit until the doors shut and the bus started moving again. Maybe he really did have to get off at that stop, but I really, really doubt it.)

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My Face Is Up Here, And My Age Is Way Down There

, , , , , | Romantic | January 12, 2020

(I’m sixteen, Catholic, and a virgin. I feel a tad uncomfortable talking about romantic matters in a work setting, let alone sexual matters; my face quickly becomes a tomato. Unfortunately, I have a larger chest size, but my face is definitely too young to look older than twenty. In short, I’m not someone you’d think one would try to aggressively flirt with. A 50- to 60-year-old man is placing an order as I’ve just gotten off shift. I don’t have my license yet; my mom’s supposed to pick me up in a few minutes to take me home to my brother’s First Communion party. She texts me she’s going to be late, so I use my employee meal to get a snack and sit down at a table to wait. Then, the older man sees me.)

Old Man: *staring directly at my chest, speaking seductively* “I like what I see up there, sweetie. Do you want to, perhaps, come over later?”

Me: *very uncomfortable* “Um… I–” *grimaces in discomfort and panic*

(The grimace eventually catches his attention, because his followup question has a note of panic in it.)

Old Man: “Wait. How old are you?” *still staring at certain parts”

Me: *a bit too loud due to panic* “Sixteen! I’m sixteen!”

Old Man: *now embarrassed* “Oh. Never mind, then.”

(Every one of my coworkers who was on shift laughed at me for my reaction. I suppose failing to appreciate the flirtatious endeavors of someone forty years older than you is hilarious. I hope I never see that guy again; he made me feel small and gross, like a used toy.)

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Stand Up For What’s Right, Even If You Have To Sit Down After

, , , , | Friendly | January 12, 2020

(I’m afraid of confrontation, but I also have a tendency to speak before thinking. One day, I am walking to a mall with my husband. We have to cross a road for cars and a bike lane. A zebra crossing crosses both roads and both biking lanes, so pedestrians should have the right of way. Unfortunately, many forget about that rule, willingly or accidentally. In front of me, a group of three women crosses the zebra. Two kids on a bike, a boy of about 13 years old and a girl of about 11 years old, do not give way, but there is no accident as there is enough space. However, one of the women suddenly stretches her arm and tries to grab the girl off of her bike! The girl wobbles but manages to stop safely. The boy — her big brother, we assume — stops, as well. But before anyone else can react, I yell:)

Me:Hey! Don’t you dare!”

Woman: “I had the right of way!”

Me: “I don’t care! You almost made her fall!”

Woman: “Mind your own business!”

Me: “I won’t mind my own business when I see someone pulling a child off her bike!”

Woman: “I had the right of way!”

Me: “That did not give you the right to cause an accident.”

Woman: “Just shut up, you!”

Me: “Not for someone who almost hurt a child! Right of way or not, you were in the wrong here!”

(The women walk on, while the aggressor keeps mumbling that people should mind their own business. The children also go on, though they look shocked. I can’t ask them if they are all right; they are already gone.)

Husband: “Wow, you were fast!”

Me: “I didn’t know what came over me. I just imagined that child falling in front of me…”

Husband: “I don’t know if I would have had the guts to say anything.”

Me: “Could… could we sit down for a moment? I’m so scared all of a sudden… My legs are weak.”

Husband: “No, not yet. You can’t show weakness to that b****. Just wait until she can’t see you anymore.”

(My husband then treated me to ice cream so I could sit down and calm down. We didn’t see any of those women in the mall again, and two years have passed by now. It’s okay to be upset if you do not get right of way, but that never justifies causing — almost — injury to anyone!)

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Evil Stepmothers Are Not Christian

, , , , , | Friendly | January 10, 2020

(It is February vacation, which is a week-long break for public schools in New England. My brother and his family visit, since they also have February vacation and my brother has work in Boston. My wife, my brother’s new fiancee — he’s a widower — and our combined five children and I go to a local tourist attraction, a farm and wildlife sanctuary that is open to the public. We are near the chicken coop when my brother’s fiancee just starts yelling at some Indian family nearby.)

Brother’s Fiancee: “Don’t talk about God that way!”

Indian Man: “I was not talking about religion.”

Brother’s Fiancee: “I bet you’re not even Christian!”

Indian Man: “No, I’m not. I fail to see how–”

Brother’s Fiancee: You’re condemning your kids to suffer in Hell.”

(At this point, my identical twin nieces are hugging me, scared.)

Indian Man: *calmly* “I will make a deal with you. I assume you are a Christian. I will live according to my Hindu virtues and you to your Christian ones, of which I believe intolerance of the beliefs of others seems to tragically be one such virtue. Then, when we die, we shall see who goes to Heaven and Hell, though the stakes are higher for you than for me, for neither Hell or Heaven are permanent to me. Should I make a mistake and end up in either, I shall be reborn with another chance to attain the divine.”

(My brother’s fiancee was speechless and walked to the car and waited there alone for a few hours while we finished our sightseeing. That evening, my brother called off the engagement. It appears she had been unpopular with her almost-stepdaughters for a while, making fun of the fact that they look the same, wear glasses, and are second graders, and also insinuating that their mother went to Hell because she was Jewish.)

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The Apple Number Has Fallen Very Far From The Tree

, , , , , | Friendly | January 2, 2020

I still have my phone number from when I lived on the US east coast, but now I live on the west coast. That means I occasionally get wrong number calls at inappropriate hours; I simply ignore my phone unless I know who is calling. One day, the calls kept coming; I received over two dozen before I left for work. Most were hang-ups, and sometimes it was the same number several times. Finally, I picked up; it was some dopey recent college grad looking for a job at the flagship Apple store in the city in which I used to live. I told him he had the wrong number. I picked up the next one, too, and it was the same story. It seemed like the Apple store recruiting office had accidentally given out my number. I felt bad for those dopey kids, even the one who kept calling me after I told him he had the wrong number.

I called the Apple store itself, and they informed me that they were not recruiting, and they don’t use outside companies to fill positions. It turns out it was some sort of scam. Now I felt extra bad for those dopey kids.

It was not a busy day at work, so I did my best to inform the callers about what was going on. I even spoke with the kid who didn’t understand what a wrong number was. 

A few minutes later, I got a message from his mother, complaining that I was unhelpful. Then I feel even worse for that kid; it’s got to be difficult to go through life with a mom who was even dumber than he was.

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