(I am with a tour group of young people in Bangkok. We are on the rotating observation deck of the tallest tower in the country. One of the girls in my group is not the brightest.)
Girl: “So, is it the deck that is rotating or the tower?”
Me: “Actually, neither the deck nor the tower are moving; the entire city rotates around the tower.”
(She didn’t appreciate my remark, but everyone else got a kick out of it.)
I go to a colonial fair at a working 18th-century living history farm in Northern Virginia about once or twice a year. The fairs, which are pretty popular, run once a season except in the winter. Because the fairs are popular, the farm tends not to have enough costumed interpreters for each station of the farm.
Once, I went with my family and there weren’t any living history interpreters at the old tobacco barn station. The tobacco barns of the 18th century looked pretty much like modern barns. However, there were roughly six-inch (15-centimeter) gaps between the boards that made up the siding of the barn. This was to allow air to pass through so the tobacco, hanging up above, could dry out properly.
My mom and I went inside the barn to check it out. A lady and her young daughter were looking around as well. It looked like a typical barn with just the barn doors, no windows, and the tobacco hanging up above our heads.
The young girl asked her mom why the boards were so far apart. The mom stated she didn’t know. What got me was what came out of her mouth next. She spoke to a man I’m pretty sure was her husband and stated, “No wonder they always complained that these old houses were so drafty! You can stick your hand between the boards!”
I really wanted to follow her to the actual house, a half-mile away from the barn, to see what she thought that was.
(I am on a tour of castles in the UK. One of the other passengers is a high-maintenance type who never stops complaining. Her husband seems like a nice enough guy, though on the quiet side. We are touring a 14th-century keep, and the guide is explaining some of the rather nasty stuff displayed on the wall, including an instrument of public punishment and humiliation for nagging wives. It’s an iron muzzle that straps around the victim’s face and through the mouth, pressing down on the tongue and preventing speech.)
Guide: “And this device is called a Scold’s Bridle.”
(He places it across his face to demonstrate.)
Husband: “Do they sell those in the gift shop?”
(I work for a company which captures people’s photos before they go on the attraction. We are entirely separate from the location in which we rent from. Often, we are dealing with thousands of people on a constant basis. They are placed into a waiting room and we’re tasked with capturing their picture in front of the green screen. Technically, nobody has to actually take the photo, but we try, anyway, because it’s drilled into our heads to capture as many as possible. However, it is entirely up the family, people, or group to actually have their photo done if they wish to. I am not one of those who takes the photos, I’m merely a salesperson who is tasked with showing the photos after the ride and selling it if the individuals want their picture. I am often busy showing numerous people their photos and taking the payments. A lady comes up to our sales desk.)
Customer: “Excuse me. I’d just like to know, what kind of flash do you use for your photos?”
(I don’t know much about the equipment in which we use, as I am just a sale’s supervisor. Further, I’m contractually obligated not to disclose the company’s equipment or procedures.)
Me: *busy, and rather distracted* “It’s just a flash, like every other flash used to take a picture.”
Customer: “But it was so bright and so sudden! Is it necessary?”
Me: “Of course! The picture would come out pitch black without it! I’ve seen it happen when our flash stopped working.”
(By this point, the lady releases how distracted I am, and proceeds to another one of our sales staff.)
Customer: “What kind of flash do you use here?”
Coworker: “I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
Customer: “It’s just that… I’m pregnant! That flash was so strong and so blinding! And I’m pregnant!”
(She’s holding her belly, and we assume she must be in her early term as she’s rather skinny.)
Coworker: “Miss, I can assure you that the flash is perfectly safe. It is not an xray; it’s simply a flash. Many new parents actually have their newborns take photos with flash. The light may not be the greatest things for their eyes, but your baby would not have been exposed to it.”
(The lady leaves us. We’re a bit surprised by her questioning and find it somewhat silly. However, I mention to my coworkers that it’s possible the lady has miscarried, or REALLY wants the baby and is genuinely scared that anything could mess things up. But this isn’t the end of things with this woman. After she deals with us, she goes upstairs to where we do stunt shot pictures. She waits in a long line-up to speak with the coworker there, who actually happens to be the manager.)
Customer: “Excuse me. I had a photo taken downstairs. I’m pregnant and that flash was really rough.”
Manager: “Oh, I’m very sorry about that. But the flash will not hurt your baby.”
Customer: *getting upset* “How do you know?”
Manager: “Miss, if you head outside, you’re exposing yourself to radiation from the sun. The flash has none. It is just light produced by electricity. Just like the lights from above us. I promise you, the baby is safe.”
Customer: “Well… you know, you should really tell everyone that the photo is not for security purposes! We thought it was! We wouldn’t have done it!”
Manager: “Miss, we have no time to explain to customers that it is not for security purposes. If you ask the staff taking your photo, they will tell you that it is just a souvenir shot. We are not allowed to mislead.”
Customer: “WELL, YOU SHOULD REALLY LET THEM KNOW! I’M PREGNANT. I WOULD NOT HAVE DONE IT!”
Manager: “I am very sorry that you feel that way. Again, nobody ever told you that it would be for security purposes; we go through thousands of guests and have to keep the line moving. And I promise you, the baby is unharmed.”
Customer: “THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! I would like to speak with the manager!”
Manager: “I am the manager. I do not know what you would like me to do for you.”
Customer: “Is there a phone number? Is there no one who can be reached so that we change the rules?”
Manager: “There is nothing to be done, as no harm as been done. Miss, with all due respect, I have to get back to my work. I can do nothing more for you but reassure you.”
(The lady stood there huffing angrily, while unfortunately the manager had no choice but to continue working and ignoring her. She eventually left, and there was no follow-up. But the entire situation was a new one for us, especially with how difficult it was for us to explain that the flash could not harm a baby or cause a miscarriage.)
(It’s the early 2000s and I am in my early teens. My dad takes my two younger brothers and me on a vacation to Mammoth Cave. We go through a large section of the cave as the guide explains and shows us the formations and other cool things. We get to the last section of the tour, and the guide says that once we are done exploring we can go up the stairs and exit through a revolving doors and wait in the bus for the rest of the group. After a few more minutes we decide we have seen enough and start for the exit. We are the first people to leave the group, and once we get to the top of the stairs, we see the revolving door, as expected. My dad sees a button beside the door.)
Dad: “Oh, this must be for the revolving door.”
(He presses the button, and the door does not move.)
Dad: “Huh.”
(He pushes the button again. As he presses it the second time, I notice a light flicker on just above the door.)
Me: “Oh, it looks like it turns the light above the door off and on.”
Dad: “That’s strange.”
(We go out to the bus and my dad takes one of my brothers to the bathroom as we wait. While they are gone, other people start to trickle in. Each one loudly exclaims how crazy it was that the lights suddenly went out. My other brother and I freeze as we piece together what happened.)
Me: “We… might have been the ones that did that.”
(Once my dad and other brother got back, we filled them in on what we had done, as the bus was booming with chatter about the sudden blackout. We confessed to the tour guide — who was surprisingly calm — what we did. He then informed us that we had turned off one third of the lights to the entire cave system! Thank goodness we pushed it that second time!)
