That’s Not Fare

, , , , , | Right | June 27, 2019

(I am sitting on a train waiting for it to leave the station at the beginning of the line when a group of teenage girls arrives to board the train, as well. One of the girls has some type of trouble paying her fare, so another girl blocks the door to the car I am seated in, standing with one foot on the platform and the other on the train.)

Girl: “This train ain’t leaving! Nope! Y’all ain’t going nowhere! No! Where! Everybody’s gonna have to wait now!”

(She goes on like this for a while. None of the passengers react in any way.)

Conductor: *over the loudspeaker* “Ma’am, this train isn’t scheduled to leave this station for another five minutes.”

Girl: “Oh.”

(She went to a seat and sat down with her head down while the rest of the passengers had a little chuckle. Her friend made it onto the train with plenty of time to spare.)

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Winning At “Misery Loves Company”

, , , , , | Healthy | June 25, 2019

I went to see my doctor as I’d had a weird pain in my arm for a week and then it had swelled up at the weekend. He sent me to the hospital for a scan, which confirmed I needed to stay in hospital, but they needed to find me a bed so I went back to the investigations ward to wait. And wait. And wait some more.

At 10:00 pm, there was a teenage lad whose parents were grumbling about how they’d been there for four hours and they were fed up waiting for the boy to be discharged.  

A few others joined in, waiting five, six hours… After a while of this, I decided to pipe up.

“I’ve been here since ten o’clock this morning. I got diagnosed nine hours ago and I’m still waiting for a bed because I don’t get to go home tonight.”

There were a few beats of silence before the original grumblers declared me the winner and happily waited for their son to be discharged. It actually helped break some of the tension in the room and got people talking to pass the time until I finally got a bed, so yay for winning “waiting time” to trumps, I guess.

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Wiping The Place Clean Of Guests

, , , , | Right | June 11, 2019

(I work the late shift at a hotel. While it’s not unusual for people to comment about my hours, this is definitely the most amusing conversation to date.)

Woman: “Oh, my God, are you still cleaning?”

Me: “Yes, I am the late shift.”

Woman: “What? You clean all night?”

Me: “Not normally; the odd time I’ll be here until midnight, but normally 10 or 11. Tonight I’m off at 11.”

Woman: “Wow, you are a hard worker.”

Man: “You must do the work crews.”

Me: “Yes, sir, my main responsibility is cleaning the rail crews’ rooms since they are constantly routing.”

Woman: “So, someone does cleaning all night?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I am the late cleaner and we have an early cleaner who starts at five am. There is no housekeeper for the slowest part of the night, but if needed the front desk will clean a room for them.”

Man: “You do what you have to. How are the rest of the rooms divided up?”

Me: “We have other housekeepers who work normally eight to four; their job is the regular guest rooms. If the early cleaner or I have free time we will also clean the regular rooms.”

Woman: “Twenty-four-seven cleaning is crazy! I will write to your head office for you and I promise we will never stay with this hotel again!” *walks off before I can say anything*

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They Can’t Wrap Their Heads Around It

, , , , | Right | June 10, 2019

(My store offers gift wrapping services. A few times a week, I have some version of this conversation:)

Customer: “I heard that you guys do gift wrapping.”

Me: “We do! What would you like wrapped?”

(The customer chooses paper, ribbon, etc., and prepares to pay.)

Me: “All right, it will take me probably about 15 to 20 minutes to wrap this, so if you want to continue shopping or get something to eat or drink and come back, that’s perfectly fine.”

Customer: “It will take that long?!”

(Then, I usually give some variation of “I’m the only one here, we’re busy right now, etc.” What I wish I could say: “Do you want me to make it look good, like you’re paying me to, or do you just want me to slap it together? If you were going to wrap this, how long would it take you?”)

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Smoking You Out

, , , , , , | Working | June 6, 2019

(It’s the day after my eighteenth birthday. I’m out with a friend when I remember I have to go to the ATM, so we stop at a gas station. My friend, who is nineteen, asks me if I’ll grab him a pack of cigarettes and he’ll pay me back later. I agree, and I walk in and get my money from the ATM, then grab a drink and a bag of chips. I approach the counter, ID in hand.)

Me: “Just this and a pack of [Brand].”

Cashier: “ID, please?”

Me: “Of course. Here you are.”

(He examines my ID for a second, looks at his watch, looks at the calendar, and then looks at me before looking at his watch again. He hands me my ID, then puts my drink and chips behind the counter.)

Cashier: “Get out. You can come back next week.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Cashier: “Next week, man.”

Me: “I’m of legal age to buy those.”

Cashier: “Next week.”

Me: “What? No. I’m eighteen; I turned eighteen yesterday.”

Cashier: “Next week, buddy.”

Me: “Okay, well, can I at least buy my chips?”

Cashier: “Next week.”

Me: “But—”

Cashier: “Next week.”

(I walk out, kind of pissed off about the whole situation.)

Friend: “Did you get my smokes?”

Me: “Uh, no. The guy told me to leave.”

Friend: “You showed him your license, right?”

Me: “Yeah, but he just kept saying to come back next week.”

Friend: “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll get them eventually.”

(Same day, different gas station, I bought the cigarettes no problem. I’d stop going to that gas station if it wasn’t the closest to my house.)

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