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When You’re Uber-Drunk

, , , , , | Friendly | November 17, 2021

I’m on the phone with my mom when she tells me this bizarre story that happened not even twenty-four hours ago.

My mom falls asleep on the couch with my stepdad and wakes up to the door rattling as if someone is trying to open the door. My mom gets up to see what’s going on when the door opens and in walks a clearly intoxicated lady.

Mom: “I’m sorry, but can I help you?”

Lady: *Stumbling around* “No, no, it’s fine. [Name] sent me.”

Mom: “I’m sorry, but who? Why are you in my house?”

Lady: “[Name], [Name] sent me. Don’t worry.

She continues to walk around the foyer. My mom walks outside and sees a rideshare driver in the road.

Driver: “She’s all yours now.”

Mom: “Um, no, we don’t know her.”

Driver: “But isn’t this [house number five numbers down]?”

Mom: “No this is [house number].”

She pointed to our clearly-seen house numbers above the door and pillar. The taxi driver’s face paled and he started to rush up and down the street looking for this random lady’s house for whoever sent her.

In the end, she got out of OUR house and into hers, and I died laughing, glad I wasn’t there when it happened.

Less Impreza-ive Than You Thought

, , , , | Friendly | November 16, 2021

I’m a gearhead (petrolhead in the UK) in the USA. Cars, bikes, planes, boats — if it has an engine, I’m a fan.

While on a camping trip, I stop by a big box store to pick up some basic supplies. As I’m walking into the store, a BEAUTIFUL older Subaru Impreza cruises into the parking lot and finds a space. I can’t help myself from wandering over for a better look, and as I approach, the owner climbs out. He’s a younger man, probably in his late teens or early twenties.

Me: “Hey, that’s a really cool car. I love the 2.5 RS models.”

Driver: “Thanks. I just bought it a few weeks ago. Bought it from a guy who imported it directly from Japan, so it’s full JDM!”

JDM stands for “Japanese Domestic Market,” and it’s a HUGE thing in the American car world.

Me: “Um… well…”

Driver: “Yeah, I know. I was kind of speechless, too, when I found it.”

Me: “How much did you pay for it?”

Driver: “About thirty grand.”

Me: “That seems really high. Right now, even a mint 2.5 RS is only worth about ten grand.”

Driver: “Yeah, but that’s the American models. This one is JDM. The guy I bought it from paid all the import fees, so that makes it a lot more expensive.”

Me: “Did you get a copy of the import paperwork from him?”

Driver: “No, why?”

Me: “Well… I hate to break it to you, but I’m guessing you got scammed because this is definitely not a JDM model.”

Driver: “Sure, it is. The guy showed me the paperwork, but he just didn’t have a paper copy for me.”

Me: “What side of the car is the steering wheel on?”

Driver: “Left, like every other car.”

Me: “Except… in Japan, cars are righthand drive.”

Driver: “Ohhh, f*******k, I never even thought about that. I was so stoked at finding one where I live that… that I… f*********k.”

Me: “Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”

The driver crawled into the car, shut the door, and proceeded to suffer a mental breakdown. I genuinely don’t feel good about being the person who popped his bubble, but… I guess what’s done is done. Hopefully, he can take the seller to court for fraudulent claims, because otherwise, he’s pretty much out of luck.

Time To Invest In Some Name Tags

, , , , | Friendly | November 16, 2021

I’m on a bus with my boyfriend and two friends. We’re all from the same university and going to a university defense in another city. At some point, we’re stopping in Marseille, which in France has a kind of “bad” reputation for thieves and similar issues.

One of my boyfriend’s friends lives there, and since he lives not too far from the train station where the bus is going to stop, he comes to say hi. We all go to chat with him quickly while some people are leaving the bus and others are coming in. The bus driver has opened the baggage compartment of the bus and is helping people reach their luggage.

Boyfriend: “Hey, isn’t that our luggage this guy is taking?”

We’re a bit slow to react, so we don’t chase down the guy directly. I go to the driver and try to get our luggage only to realize that it is indeed missing.

In this bag, there is my boyfriend’s suit and, more importantly, our end-of-study project, which we have been working on for almost two years and have to show at the university.

We start to panic — while our two friends decide to just stay near the bus in case it leaves without us — and rush out into the train station, each of us taking a different side.

I didn’t even see the guy’s face, our bag is not easy to look for — just a big black bag — and there are a lot of people, trains leaving, and other ways out. I’m starting to think it will be impossible to retrieve our bag.

And then I see it; a man is sitting in the waiting area with our big bag on the ground. 

Me: “Excuse me, sir. I think you got my bag instead of yours. Can I check?”

The man looks at me without saying a word, so I open the bag and, sure enough, I find our project and my boyfriend’s clothes.

Me: “I’m sorry, but that’s my bag.”

The man was still silent, so I took the bag and got back to the bus.

We informed the bus driver and he asked the other passengers to check their luggage. We did not leave our bag unattended after that.

I can’t even imagine how horrible it would have been to discover our bag missing at the end of the journey!

Is “Old” Pensioner Slang For “Rude”?

, , , , , | Friendly | November 13, 2021

Our local coffee shop has an upstairs seating area. I pay for our drinks and food and carry the tray upstairs. I somehow manage to carry everything without spilling a drop. I get almost to the top when a pensioner steps onto the stairs. He is holding both handrails to steady himself and I have no way past.

Me: “Excuse me.”

Pensioner: “Just wait a minute.”

He takes another step toward me, again holding both handrails.

Me: “Can I squeeze past? I have a tray.”

Pensioner: “You are going to have to wait. I’m old. If you can’t tell.”

I look behind me. He is causing a queue of people to form behind me. Eventually, a younger woman rushes up to him; I presume she is his carer.

Woman: “Oh, there you are. Come on, let me help you down.”

She looks at me.

Woman: “Well, move, then!”

Me: “I can’t. No one can. Can he move aside?”

Woman: “He’s old. Can’t you just move?”

The long line of people is getting restless. A member of staff comes over to try and move things along. Finally, this seems to make it dawn on the woman that she actually isn’t in the right, and she moves aside, helping the pensioner to move, too.

I move past them only for her to make a snide remark.

Woman: “Some people have no respect for others.”

I couldn’t agree with her more.

This Is Becoming Very Taxing

, , , , | Friendly | November 10, 2021

Somebody has been giving people my work cell phone number instead of theirs. It’s gone pretty much like this for months now.

Me: “Good afternoon, [My Name] speaking.”

Caller: “Hello, Debbie, I was just calling to—”

Me: “I’m sorry, I am not Debbie. My name is [My Name].”

Caller: “Oh, could you put Debbie Green on, please? Thank you, dear.”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. There is no one by that name here.”

Caller: “But Debbie gave me this number for her, and I…”

Me: “I’m afraid she has made a mistake. This is my cell phone number; it has never belonged to Debbie.”

Caller: “All right, what number should I call her on, then?”

Me: “I have no idea. I don’t know Debbie. This is a work cell phone.”

Caller: “Oh! Well, she probably gave me the office number, instead. Can you transfer me to Debbie Green?”

Me: “Debbie does not work with me.”

Caller: “Are you sure? How many people work with you?”

Me: “Ma’am, this is the Internal Revenue Service.”

Caller: “Ah. Never mind, then. You thief.” *Click*