This Song Blows

, , , , | Related | January 5, 2018

(I am a fan of a couple of Korean girl groups, BLACKPINK and Red Velvet. I am in my room listening to a song by the former while doing homework, when my younger brother enters and flops on the floor.)

Brother: “I’m booorrrrred. What are you listening to?”

Me: “BLACKPINK.”

Brother: “What song?”

Me:Whistle.”

Brother: “Play it for me.”

(Because I know it’ll shut him up and make him leave, I restart the song and play it out loud. The start of the song goes, “Make ‘em whistle like a missile, bomb, bomb.” My brother laughs originally, but then when they start singing in Korean he looks confused.)

Brother: “What language is that?”

Me: “Korean. They’re a Korean group.”

Brother:Korean? And they sing about bombs?!”

Me: “The song is actually a complex story about two people, and this girl is trying desperately to start a relationship with the other person. She encourages them to call out to her, to communicate, but the idea of whistling is also supposed to convey a heartbeat. The girl doesn’t want this person to go, and is expressing a desire for a lasting relationship.”

Brother: “…”

(He then listened to the rest of the song and left the room.)

Putting The Ice Into Sacrifice

, , , | Right | January 4, 2018

(I am working concessions at the cinema. Company policy is that we put a certain amount of ice in every cup and then the fountain dispenses the right amount for that size cup. I have just handed a woman a large [Soda]. Note: We do sometimes top the drinks up a bit more, though we are not required to, as long as the customer is polite.)

Customer: “Excuse me, this is all ice.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we are required to put that much ice in unless asked otherwise.”

Customer: “Well, I want a new one with no ice.”

Me: “Not a problem, ma’am.”

(I remake her drink for her.)

Customer: “Why isn’t this filled to the top?”

Me: “Our fountains automatically dispense the correct amount in to the cups.”

Customer: “But it’s nowhere near full. There was more in the other one.”

Me: “There is the same amount of [Soda] in both cups; the other one looks like more because of the ice.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. I demand my drink for free!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry but I gave you what you paid for so I can’t give it to you for free.”

Customer: “This is so stupid.”

(The customer then pours her drink all over my counter and throws the cup at me.)

Customer: “Now get me another one and make it right.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am; that’ll be £3.29, then, please.”

Customer: “I’ve already paid for it!”

Me: “No, you paid for the one you just poured all over my counter. Since you purposely spilled it I am not required to replace it. If you want another drink you have to pay.”

Customer: “F*** you!”

(She stormed out of the cinema. She complained about getting a £3.29 drink for free, but had no problem leaving without watching a film she paid £9.39 for.)

I Don’t Work Here: The Schooling Edition

, , , , , , , , , | Friendly | January 4, 2018

(I’m 17 and I’ve just moved in with my grandparents so I can attend the college of my choice with a lot shorter commute than if I stayed living in London, where I was born. It’s 7:15 am, and I’m in the local supermarket to buy lunch for the day. I’m wearing black jeans and a purple polo neck shirt with my college name and course embroidered on it. I’m also wearing a black hoodie decorated with the logo of a Morris group I side with, I have a bright yellow cartoon bag on my shoulder, and I’m using my phone as I walk along the aisle. The shop employees wear smart trousers, and a blue shirt in a different material and style. I also grew up in South London, so I learned pretty quickly as a kid that I needed to be verbally aggressive to make up for my small size of 5’2″.)

Random Lady: *taps me on the shoulder* “Excuse me! Excuse me, boy!”

Me: “Hey, what are you doing? Get off me!”

Random Lady: “Don’t be so rude! Get off your phone and help me find the fresh vegetables.”

Me: “They’re right at the front of the shop; you had to walk past them to come here and attack me. Now, p*** off.”

Random Lady: “EXCUSE ME?! Where’s your manager? You’re so rude! How dare you be so rude?!”

Me: *turning properly so she can see my shirt* “What colour is my shirt?”

Random Lady: *stutters and blinks* “Uh, purple. Why? What’s that got to do with anything?”

Me: “Can you read, or are you illiterate as well as rude? What does my shirt say?”

Random Lady: “I— What? It says [College, Course].”

Me: “I don’t know what the f*** you think you’re doing, but I clearly don’t work here. I’ve been up all night working on coursework so I’ve had three hours sleep. I recently moved house, I’m trying to make new friends as all mine live two hours away, and it’s seven fifteen in the f****** morning. Don’t touch me again, and don’t ever treat an actual employee as rudely as you just treated me. Got it?”

Random Lady: *stares at me with her mouth open, looking like an oversized salmon, then nods*

Me: “Good. Now, f*** off.” *I go and pay for my food and massive energy drink*

(After paying, I headed to the bus station to wait for my bus, and as I got on, who should I see walking past but our dear [Random Lady]? She caught sight of me as I was standing in the door paying for my ticket, then scurried away, avoiding looking in my direction.)

You’ll Take An Arrow To The Knee Before You Pick It

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

(My daughter has a notebook that can be locked with a padlock. One day she realises that she can’t find the keys and asks me to help her look for them. After a while of fruitless searching:)

Me: “I don’t think we’re going to find them. I reckon we should stop looking for now.”

Daughter: “But I want to find them!”

Me: “That’s up to you, but I was thinking that maybe I could pick the lock, and then we’ll see about getting a new padlock to replace it.”

(I find a small screwdriver and begin fiddling with the padlock.)

Daughter: “Mum, you know you’re not playing Skyrim now, right? You can’t just pick the lock.”

(There is a small ‘snick’ as the padlock opens.)

Me: “I know.”

A Stamp Of Disapproval

, , , , , | Right | January 4, 2018

Me: “Hi, how can I help?”

Customer: “Do you sell stamps?”

Me: “Yes, we do; a book of six first-class or a book of twelve second-class?”

Customer: “Can I have two first-class, please?”

Me: “Two books?”

Customer: “No, just two stamps.”

Me: “We only sell them in books of six.”

Customer: “You’re kidding me?!”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Customer: “You’re having me on!”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Customer: “But I don’t want six!”

Me: “Sorry.”

Customer: “Huh!”

(He left, still muttering “Six! What am supposed to do with six?!”)

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