Managed To Turn It All Around

, , , , | Romantic | September 13, 2017

(My boyfriend is working in the study as I’m coming out of the bathroom. I enter the study, completely naked, and stand behind him.)

Me: “Hi, I’m a distraction.”

Boyfriend: “Then I won’t turn around, because I don’t like those.” *keeps tapping away on the computer*

(Suddenly, I see a little video-screen displaying the study pop up on the computer screen. The image is clearly coming from the webcam on the computer. Luckily for me, and unfortunately for my boyfriend, my naked body is completely covered by the back of the chair. We both begin to laugh uncontrollably.)

Boyfriend: “Drat! Now I have to turn around anyway!” *turns around and gives me a kiss*

Unfiltered Story #93681

, | Unfiltered | September 12, 2017

Me: Alright Ma’am here is your change (Counting it in her hand)

Costumer: I’m sorry i didnt get my change.

Me: I am sorry ma’am, i am fairly sure you did.

Costumer: No i didnt’t, those people behind me saw it.

People behind her: I saw he gave you change, not how much but i saw he gave you something.

Me: You know what, lets get a manager.

(Manager gets here, she still claims she didnt get any change)

Manager to people behind her: Did you see [me] give change to here?

People behind her: Yup

Costumer: NO! i DIDNT GET ANY CHANGE!

Manager: You know what, we will count his drawer, and look what the result is, alright?

(We count out me drawer, its showing nothing wrong, sadfully enough i couldnt see the reaction, but i saw her storming out of the store angry!

Desperate To Put A Silver Lining On It

, , , | Working | September 8, 2017

(My silver ring is very dear to me, because it was the last birthday gift I got from my dad before he died. It now has a crack in the band, so I take it to the local jeweler for repairs. A week after I drop it off, I get a phone call saying their silversmith has been sick, so it is taking a bit longer. I don’t think much of it when it does take a while, but after two weeks I decide to call. I get the store manager on the phone. He says he can’t find my order, so he’ll have to call me back. A few minutes later, he calls.)

Jeweler: “Hi. I am calling about the silver ring you inquired about. And, um… I really don’t know how to tell you this, but the ring was sent to our workshop, and it was already done and on its way back to the store… but it got lost in the mail.”

Me: “What? What do you mean, ‘lost in the mail?’”

(At this point, he has to explain it to me again, as I can’t believe my ears. It turns out that the one package that was missing from the postal service truck was the one containing my ring. The jeweler on the phone is stuttering with nerves, and it slowly dawns on me what the case is. I’m in tears at this point.)

Jeweler: “I will get a call from the postal services tomorrow, and see if they have found it yet. But it has been several days already, so I wouldn’t count on it…”

(This gives me a slight spark of hope. But the day after comes and goes, and no call. I go by the store the next day, and I meet with the manager. He explains to me that there has even been a full investigation looking into where the package went. The jeweler himself has searched the postal truck, and basically moved heaven and earth to find it. But no luck… the package is gone. I’m crushed by this news, and the jeweler keeps apologizing. I keep telling him he isn’t to blame. The poor guy is shaking with nerves.)

Jeweler: “I understand that the value of this ring to you can not be expressed in numbers. But I do want to ask you want you think it was worth in the first place, so I can at least compensate you.”

Me: *crying* “I don’t think any price you name can fill the gap for this loss… It wasn’t even a fancy ring. Honestly, it wouldn’t feel right to demand money from you for this.”

Jeweler: “I see where you want to go with this… but I can’t just let you walk away with nothing. Let me at least give you a gift card.”

Me: “Really, sir, you have done all you could to find it back. With all due respect, I’m in no mood to go shop for another ring, or anything else for that matter, right now.”

Jeweler: *with the most defeated face I have ever seen* “It would be so much easier for me if you just shouted at me…”

Me: “Why would I shout at you? Again, this isn’t your fault. It’s the postal service’s fault. I feel so sorry for you…”

Jeweler: “Don’t feel sorry for me! This isn’t about me, it’s about you! But I can’t let you walk away just like that. No.. no this won’t do. Let me just… hold on.”

(He gets up, gets a gift card from the counter, and writes a figure on it.)

Jeweler: “I won’t write an expiration date on it, so you can use this, unlimited. Again, I feel terrible for what happened.”

(He wrote quite a sum on that gift card… I still feel so sorry for the poor jeweler. I’m still heartbroken for never getting my ring back, but the service and compassion from this jeweler was unbelievable! I hope he quit beating himself up about it.)

War On Information

, , , , | Right | September 6, 2017

(I work as a receptionist at a major institute which archives materials about war and genocide. I get a caller who is angry, and very… shall we say, confused. Also, I have no idea whether he is wrong about his mother’s age or her past; obviously he has one of these two “facts” very wrong indeed…)

Me: “[Institute], you’re speaking with [My Name].”

Caller: “Hi, yes, I was given your number. I am calling to complain that [Popular Cable Company] is having some very major problems. Just yesterday my cable service was behaving very erratically.”

Me: “Sir, you—”

Caller: “Just yesterday, again, we sat down; me and my mother, we sat down; she’s 49 today. So we sat down and, she lived through the War, you know! Anyway, we sat down to watch something and the TV turned itself off!”

Me: *speaking very quickly so as to get a word in edgewise* “Sir, you know you’ve called the [Institute], yes? We—”

Caller: “Yes, of COURSE I did! This cannot be allowed to go on! My mother, she went through the War; it’s her birthday and she’s 49; she can’t be expected to deal with this, so something has to be done now.”

Me: “Sir, I am not sure I follow. What—”

Caller: “It’s no coincidence. It’s a huge, evil scandal is what it is. They do it so SYSTEMATICALLY! Look, every single time my mother wants to watch something about the War, the cable goes out or other things happen. A week ago it was the BBC: the cable company switched to another channel every time we tried to watch a War documentary on the BBC! And yesterday the TV just turned off. By itself! Because we wanted to watch something about the War on a Belgian channel. A few weeks ago, we wanted to watch something on [Dutch Channel] about the Hunger Winter, and the station went off the air! Every. Single. Time. It happens every single time. This has been—”

Me: “SIR! I’m sorry, but we are not in any way affiliated with [Cable Company].”

Caller: “I know that, but you are the War people! I am giving you information! That’s what you do! I am giving you information, and something needs to be done with the information I am giving you. Goebbels said it: ‘Whoever controls the information controls the world.’ They are doing this on purpose, that is completely obvious. It is far too obvious, so how are they even getting away with it? Why would they do this? They block everything to do with the War, everything! No matter what station it will be on, no matter what the program, if it is about the War, the TV turns off, or the cable starts acting wonky, or the electricity in the neighborhood goes out or—”

Me: “SIR! As I said, there really isn’t anything we—”

Caller: “SOMETHING HAS TO BE DONE WITH THIS INFORMATION! I am calling YOU because this is IMPORTANT INFORMATION and something HAS TO BE DONE ABOUT IT! This cannot go ON! I am giving you information! My mother, she’s 49; she went through the War; this is too much for her! They think a MOTHER can stand up to this kind of thing? A MOTHER?”

Me: “Sir, I think it really would be better if you contact, for example, the cable company itself, or the Better Business Bureau, or the local registry of—”

Caller: “None of them care! Are you nuts? This has been going on for SEVEN YEARS! Why would they do anything about it NOW? Okay, I did call all of them, everyone, all of them, years and years ago, but they don’t care. Two years ago, I called the police and they assured me they would do something about it, and it WAS better for two weeks, but then it all started again, and the police didn’t want to talk to me anymore. So, I am giving you information.”

Me: “Sir, what is it that—”

Caller: “A MOTHER! A mother who had to live through the War and now this! You are the ones, you are the—”

Me: “SIR! WHAT are you asking us to DO?”

Caller: “SOMETHING HAS TO BE DONE WITH THIS INFORMATION!”

Me: “Sir, I will tell people here about your call, but I doubt we can do very much about—”

Caller: “Yes! Yes, good, TELL THEM! Tell your information people!”

Me: “I will very definitely do that, sir.”

Caller: *sounding mollified* “Good… good. Thank you. That’s good. Because something has to be done with my information, the information that I am giving you, my call, the information. Thank you.” *click*

Respect For Convenience Trumps Respect For The Dead

, , , | Right | August 23, 2017

(My father is a senior police officer in Amsterdam. During his shift there was a deadly accident involving a car and a pedestrian. After having covered most of the accident up with white sheets and having put up a line to keep the people from walking onto the scene, a woman walks over the line just before my father stops her.)

Father: “Ma’am, you need to stay behind the line. There was an accident and nobody other than the police or medics can come through.”

Woman: “But I need to go over there.” *points to a local shop on the other side of the street*

Father: “I understand that, but walk around. You are walking through—”

Woman: “But I need to go there! It’s shorter this way!”

(She tries to pass my father before he steps in front of her again.)

Father: “Ma’am, I warn you one last time to walk around or I will throw you against the ground and arrest you.”

(At this point the lady had enough and walked passed him before he could stop her. He vhen threw her upon the blood-stained ground. After about five minutes of holding her down with two other officers, she gave up and got handcuffed to a stop sign. She was there till the accident was taken care of and cleaned up, three full hours later.)

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