My Father, The Daemon Muggle

, , , , | Related | January 18, 2018

(My dad is well into his 70s, but clearly still a massive nerd judging by the recent text message conversation we had:)

Dad: “What time do you get into King’s Cross? I’ll meet you at Platform 9 3/4.”

Me: “About 1:00, as long as I don’t get trapped in London Below.”

Dad: “Mind the Gap, then.”

Me: “I killed the Beast; the Gap minds me!”

Dad: “I’m still scared of the Gap, but my daemon looks after me.”

Me: “Really? What is your daemon?”

Dad: “A medium-sized brown bear. Possibly with wings.”

Me: “Armoured?”

Dad: “No, but he does wear and black and white top hat, with just a flash of red to announce him to other rêveurs.”

You’re All Just Numbers To Them

, , , , | Romantic | January 17, 2018

(I am talking to a guy on [Dating App]. After a good while of talking:)

Guy: “Wow! We have so much in common. You are the perfect woman. Smart, beautiful… May I ask what your height is?”

Me: “Sure. I’m 1m, 53cm tall.”

Guy: Awww. Almost perfect. Oh, well, I usually like taller women, but I can try to overlook your defect.”

(I obviously tell him off and never speak to him again, until, on a different social media platform:)

Guy: “Hi! I saw your pictures and I think we have a lot in common. Can we talk and get to know each other?”

(Is he for real?!)

The Loyalty Beasts Are Here To Help

, , , , , | Friendly | January 16, 2018

(My best friend has an interview fairly early in the morning. I set an alarm even earlier so I can send her a text to wish her best of luck beforehand. Instead, she gets this…)

My Text: “Greg wish you beasts of loyalty!”

(She did get the job.)

Email Fail, Part 15

, , , , , | Right | January 15, 2018

(I’m the front desk manager at a hotel. One night an irate caller gets put through to me.)

Me: “Good evening. This is [My Name] speaking. How can I assist you tonight?”

Customer: *in a very rude and condescending tone* “Well, I don’t know; do you think you can help me? I called here last night to reserve a room. I was offered an email confirmation and I’m still waiting for it, so… Yeah.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Let’s see if we can figure out why you haven’t gotten it yet. Can I have your name, please?”

Customer: *sighs* “Yes. My name, again, is [Customer]. I reserved my room for next Friday.”

Me: “Yes, I see that here. Let me just confirm your email address. Is it—” *I read out her email address and confirm the spelling*

Customer: “Yes, yes, yes, that’s my email address. Now, the problem isn’t with the address; it’s with you guys not doing your jobs. All I wanted was an email confirmation of my reservation. I waited all night for it and I never got anything. I’m checking my emails right now, and I don’t… Oh.”

(At this point I’m looking at the email in our sent messages, and I see that it was delivered within minutes of her making the reservation. Before I have a chance to say anything else, the customer speaks again.)

Customer: “Oh, wait. Um… Yeah. Okay. I see it; I have it. Okay, well, that’s all I needed, then. Thank you.” *click*

(I never did get an apology for how she spoke to me at the beginning of the call. When she did finally check in, she acted just as entitled and rude towards my front desk clerk as she had been to me on the phone, so I quickly introduced myself and asked if she’d had any more trouble printing her confirmation. She shut up quickly and was pretty quiet for the rest of her stay.)

Related:
Email Fail, Part 14
Email Fail, Part 13
Email Fail, Part 12

All Paths Lead To A**holes

, , , , , | Related | January 4, 2018

(My mother’s a bit behind the times. She hasn’t long been introduced to the delights of the Internet, but has been sucked into the vortex that is YouTube, with their endless, tempting recommendations. She’s also just got the hang of Skype, but prefers to use the text chat function rather than the phone call. It should be noted that she’s a big fan of the Ice Age movies, having seen them all multiple times with the grandkids. One day she Skypes me and we have the following chat:)

Mother: “You’re not going to believe what I’ve just seen on YouTube! It’s so shocking; I don’t know what to say!”

(She sends me the link. It’s Dennis Leary’s song “A**-hole.”)

Me: “How did you end up at this video from all the ice dancing, gymnastics, and opera you usually watch?”

Mother: “Why would anyone want to be this nasty, and then sing about it?!

Me: “Actually, Mum, I think you’ll find that the song’s an allegory. It’s what Dennis Leary thought about American foreign policy at that time. He’s taking the p***.”

Mother: “I don’t understand how someone as brave and nice and funny as Diego could say things like that.”

Me: “Mum, you can’t be serious. Diego’s not real. Dennis Leary is an actor. He can be an a**hole or he can be Diego; that’s what actors do.”

Mother: “Of course I know that; I’ve just never seen anyone proud of being an a**hole before.”

Me: “Mum, it’s not… You know what? Never mind. Just dial down the YouTube for a while. There’s a whole lot of talk show stuff on there you’ll find quite baffling.”

Mum: “Oh, I’ve seen some of those! I saw Kate Winslet and Stephen Colbert being hilarious and showing how Jack could have fitted on that door in Titanic. That would have been a much better ending to the movie! Although, I did see another video about how it’s not really Titanic that sank in the Atlantic after all; it was a completely different ship—”
Me: “Mum, you’ve been sucked into videos about conspiracy theories. There’s no coming back from those; they’re like a cult. I’m ending this conversation before you start telling me how JFK is alive and well and living on the moon with Princess Diana.”

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