Unfiltered Story #94407

, , | Unfiltered | September 24, 2017

(I’m working the reference desk of a small branch library. So small, in fact, that it’s just the one room crammed full with shelves. An older gentleman I have never seen before comes in and approaches me.)

Patron: Hello, I’m looking for some books.

Me: Sure, which ones can I help you find?

Patron: No, I mean in general. Do you have books here?

Me: Umm… (I make a sweeping motion with my hand, indicating the shelves around us, very clearly full of books.) Yes. This is a library. Books are what we have.

Patron: Great! Now I know.

(He immediately exits again and I haven’t seen him since.)

When Grammar Nazi Jokes Are Inappropriate

, , , , | Learning | September 19, 2017

(I am in a German class. My teacher is very old, and is supposed to have retired a couple of years earlier, and even has a bad reputation for slacking among the other teachers.)

Teacher: “You guys are lucky I like you. Back when I was teaching at [Different School] I had one class with a lot of students I didn’t like, so I taught them the wrong grammar on purpose.”

Unfiltered Story #92636

, | Unfiltered | September 6, 2017

In Sweden we for a very long time had an out out register against telemarketing, and it works really well for land lines. So they have switched to harassing people by mobile phone instead.

Just a few days ago someone called and I answered (translated from Swedish).

Me: [My name]
TM: Hello, this is [whatever] calling about your home insurance.
ME: Nice, do you know what insurance company I have now?
TM: Shouldn’t you know
ME: Yes, and I want to keep it that way. Please do not call again as I will now black list your number.
And another number went to the auto-reject list.

Had A Hand In Your Pain

, , , , | Working | June 30, 2017

This happened when I was 13. I was a country girl, to explain the next part. I am at a friend’s place for the day and she is going out in the tractor. I went along, and somehow manage to crush my hand quite badly between mechanical parts. Things get a bit fuzzy at that point, so I only remember that it hurt like hell and her mum drove me home asap. My dad takes one look at me, curses her out for not taking me to the ER, and drives me there himself. When we get there we we’re told to sit and wait.

We wait for several hours. I pass out a few times and have worked myself into hysteria. Dad is trying to get the staff to get me in quicker, at least so I can get some painkillers. A sweet guy in the waiting room with a sprained foot is called before us, and insists that the little girl (aka me) get treatment first.

I am admitted and a doctor comes by to check out my swollen and discoloured hand. What happened next still gives me nightmares.

He prods at it, and cheerfully tells me and my dad that they’ll probably have to amputate it.

Now, I was already hysterical. Being told that I am going to lose my hand did NOT help things. Things get fuzzy here, but dad later told me I had a panic attack and that a nurse had to administer a mild sedative, and that they finally gave me some heavy duty painkillers.

I remember being very impressed with the shiny elevator on the way up to x-ray and much less impressed with the technician when they had to straighten out my fingers for the x-rays.

And guess what the x-rays showed? No breaks. A slight hairline fracture to one finger, but nothing that needed a cast. Definitely not amputation material. Some nerve damage, but all in all it wasn’t that bad. Dad cried, and I cried. The nurses were shocked when they heard why and what the doctor had told a terrified teenager in pain. A supervisor was called, and the doctor came slinking back to apologize for his mistake, and to this day I’m sort of shocked my dad refrained from hitting him.

Didn’t Head Where Your Head Expected

, , , | Hopeless | June 26, 2017

(I’m a 23-year-old female and have recently got the side of my head tattooed. I have other visible tattoos and piercings, but this is the most extreme. I’m shopping in a department store for something nice to wear to my sister’s wedding. Eventually I notice an elderly female employee watching me. I figure it’s because of the tattoo, but she’s being far from discreet, which makes me a little uncomfortable. I move around the store, browsing, hoping she’ll eventually leave me alone. She watches me like a hawk, which makes me a little annoyed.)

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am? I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not here to steal anything or whatever. I just need some nice clothes for a wedding. It’s making me a little uncomfortable that you’re hovering.”

(Her face goes white, and then she blushes furiously.)

Employee: “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you were stealing. I’ve just never seen a tattoo like that. Can I look?”

(I’m a little taken aback, but pleasantly surprised. I let her look at my tattoo, and she studies it for quite a long time.)

Employee: “It’s lovely. I wish I had had the courage to do something crazy in my youth.” *pats me on my hands* “Don’t change.”

(This was a lovely surprise. She even asked to take a picture to show her grandchildren. I make sure to go back to that department store whenever I need something, and always say hello.)

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