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Enough To Make You Slap Your Forehead

, | Healthy | November 15, 2017

(I work at a pharmacy. A patient is complaining about a spray she had bought a couple of days ago.)

Patient: “It did absolutely not work! It is a nasal spray for sinusitis! Since it contains cortisone, it should work!”

Me: “How do you use it?”

(I ask, since the biggest problem with stuff like this is that you usually use maybe too little, too much, or just plain wrong. She looks at me, a little offended.)

Patient: *sounding annoyed* “Well, I use it as the description says! Two sprays once a day!”

(I think long and hard about how it couldn’t have made any difference for her.)

Patient: “Besides, it gets so messy, and it doesn’t dry quickly at all!”

Me: *can’t wrap my brains about what she meant* “Can you please explain?”

(She took out the spray with a annoyed sigh and held it up against her forehead. She had used the nasal spray on her forehead. I tried my absolute hardest not to laugh and explained as professionally as I could that the spray for sinusitis is to be sprayed in your nose, and not on your forehead.)

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Another Reason To Celebrate Easter

, , , , | Friendly | October 25, 2017

(I’m a woman in my 20s, and have just moved into my first apartment six months prior to this incident. It’s a Sunday afternoon, and my mom is visiting, when I decide to hang a picture. My walls are hard concrete and require special hooks, so it takes a minute or two to work the hook into the wall. Thirty seconds into the hammering, someone bangs on my door. I answer. It’s my neighbor, a man twice my age and size, red-faced and fuming, yelling and threatening to call the disturbance hotline on me and get me evicted. He’s been awful with me and with other neighbours before, so I am prepared.)

Neighbour: *screaming* “Are you stupid!? It’s Easter; the rules say—”

Me: *interrupting* Actually, the rules say…” *points to the sign where the rules are posted on the wall and quoting it* “’It is forbidden to hammer, drill, or make excessive noise on red days.’”

(Sweden has both common holidays and so-called “red days,” which are specific holiday days. Red days usually refer to Sundays and days AFTER we celebrate major holidays, but NOT the holidays themselves. This is why holiday-related rules are suppose to specify that they are in effect on “red days AND the day before red days.” Our rules, however, are only written to be in effect on red days.)

Neighbour: “Exactly! It’s Easter—”

Me: “…and according to Swedish custom, Easter is not a red day. It is a holiday. Red days are Sundays and the days after religious holidays. Today is a Saturday, and Easter Even. This rule does not apply.”

(Absolute silence falls. He looks like a deer in the headlights. I coldly stare him down as the slow realization of what has happened dawns on him. I’ve just robbed him of the only justification for his behavior.)

Neighbour: *meekly* “O-okay… Um… Are you going to be drilling a lot more?”

Me: *sickly sweet* “Oh, no. We’re almost done! Just another minute, and then we’ll be quiet for the whole rest of the weekend.”

(Looking utterly deflated, he slowly turned and wandered back into his own apartment without another word. My mother barely managed to wait until I closed the door before she fell over laughing, undoubtedly remembering when I called her on the phone crying over how this man had treated me. Perhaps I took it too far. But then again, that was two years ago, and he hasn’t dared to confront anyone since.)

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Give The Stork The Receipt

, , , | Related | October 24, 2017

(When I was three years old, my brother was born. Initially I was pleased to have a baby brother. But at some point he got on my nerves, and I said to my mum:)

Me: “Can you please put him back?!”

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Stripped The Request Down To The Basics

, , , | Right | September 29, 2017

(During the Winter World Championships, I work at a hotel as a night porter. Because of the championships, quite a few guests come to the hotel drunk as they’ve been partying. It’s about 1:15 am, and two drunk guests in a company arrive. I open the door for them.)

Guest #1: “Hey, do you know where [Manager] is?”

Me: “Uh, she’s sleeping.”

Guest #1: “Where is she sleeping?”

Me: “In a bed?”

Guest #1: “No, in what room is she sleeping?”

Me: “Um, she’s not working now. I’m having the night shift right now. Do you want the key to your room?”

(They do, and I give them the key.)

Guest #1: “And can you send [Manager] up to our room?”

Me: “Why? Is there something wrong? Has something happened?”

Guest #1: “No, we just—”

Guest #2: “Hey, do you live here?”

Me: “No, I live in [Neighbouring Town].”

Guest #2: “Where in [Neighbouring Town] do you live? Do you know of any strip clubs over there or here in town?”

(I look at him for a moment, not sure if he’s joking or not.)

Me: “Uh, I don’t visit them, so I wouldn’t know.”

Guest #2: “Can you look it up for us?”

Me: “Uh—”

Guests #2: “Oh, and I’d like to buy a bag of [Cheese Snacks].”

(I ring him up, and the transaction goes smoothly.)

Guest #1: “Oh, and if you meet [Manager], can you ask her if she knows of any strip clubs around here?”

Me: “I don’t think she’ll know much more about those than I do. But I guess I can ask her…”

Guest #1: “See that you do.”

(Both guests left for their room, leaving me to debate if I should, in fact, look up any nearby strip clubs, and if that was why they wanted to speak to my boss.)

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Mother Might Need To Be Enlightened On The Subject

, , , | Related | September 24, 2017

(My mother really likes Buddha statuettes. She has been talking about how much she likes them and how much she wants one, when one of our local stores sends out a flyer that shows a couple of Buddha statuettes they will be selling next week. I bring the flyer to my mother to show her.)

Me: “Hey, [Store] is going to be selling Buddha statuettes next week.”

Mother: “I know. I really like them, but I can’t afford to spend that kind of money.”

Me: “Which one do you like the most? The one with the spiky thing on its head or the one without?”

Mother: “I like the one with the spike the most.”

(A few days pass and then Monday arrives. On my way home from school I walk into the store in question, find the statuettes, and get the one my mother said she liked the most. I place it on her desk once I’m home and then immediately go to my room to take a nap. A few hours later, my mother wakes me up for dinner. I go join my parents in the kitchen.)

Mother: “How did you pay for that Buddha?”

(I’m a bit surprised, as I don’t understand what she’s asking, and I had expected her to seem at least a little bit happy with the statuette.)

Me: “Um, with money?”

Mother: “Your money or my money?”

Me: “My money.”

Mother: “So, how much do you want from me?”

Me: “What?”

Mother: “How much do I owe you?”

Me: “Nothing. It’s a gift.”

Mother: “Oh. Well… Thank you!”

(I have no idea why she thought I would have paid for it with her money, or how I would even get my hands on her money. At least that explains why she didn’t seem happy at all at first. After dinner I heard her happily announce, “I have a Buddha!” to herself from time to time, so I know she appreciated the gift after all.)

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