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.”

Made You The Butt(ock) Of Their Joke

, , , , , | Right | January 18, 2018

(I sell tickets at a kiosk in front of a recently-opened art exhibition in the museum. A couple comes in, and they each have one arm wrapped around the other’s waists.)

Man: “Do we have to pay to see the exhibition?”

Me: “Yes, sir. While the rest of the museum is free, this is a special exhibition that is on loan. It’s £9 per person, or £7 if you qualify for a discount.”

(While grumbling about the cost, the couple detangles from one another, both searching their pockets for money. Eventually they hand me a £20 note.)

Me: *hands them back change and tickets* “Your change is £2, and here are your tickets. Enjoy the exhibition!”

(They put their arms back around each other, and I think nothing of it until they walk past me to look at a painting on the opposite wall. To my horror, I realize that they are, in fact, not holding on to each other’s waists, but instead both of them have their entire hands shoved down not only their partner’s trousers, but also their underwear, and are caressing each other’s bare buttocks. Just as I begin to desperately search for hand sanitizer without touching anything…)

Woman: “Excuse me? Can you throw this away for me?”

(She removes her hand from her partner’s underpants, fishes a used tissue from her pocket, and drops it on my desk before putting her hand back down his boxers.)

Me: *dies on the inside*

There’s No Saving Her From That Grouch

, , , , | Right | January 17, 2018

(We have a customer who is always rude, but we treat her with as much respect as any other customer. She always orders a large cappuccino, and despite the fact that it’s not standard to put chocolate on it, she demands angrily for “no chocolate on top” every time. She has also been known to cancel transactions for silly reasons like us asking her name. For some reason, she has taken a particular dislike to me over all of my other coworkers. I have recently been made Coffee Master for the store, and I have the shirt to go along with it. I am wearing it at the time. I am stocking ice and cleaning the cold beverage station when I hear the automatic doors open and look over my shoulder.)

Grouchy Customer: *walks in and looks up*

Me: “Hi! What can I get for you?”

Grouchy Customer: “Hmph!” *walks out*

(The supervisor just about wet herself laughing.)

Her Hearing Is Going But Her Eyes Are Sharp As A Hawk’s

, , , , | Healthy | January 17, 2018

(I work in a local doctor’s surgery, running a clinic fixing hearing aids. I’m at home with my family when the doorbell rings. An elderly lady is standing outside.)

Elderly Lady: “Hello, are you the hearing aid lady?”

Me: “Yes…”

Elderly Lady: *hands me a small package* “The hospital posted me a new hearing aid mould, but I don’t know how to fit it. I didn’t want to wait for the clinic.”

Me: “How did you find me?”

Elderly Lady: “I saw you going home and I recognised you. Can you put my hearing aid together?”

Me: “Uh… sure.”

(I do it on the spot; it’s a ten-second job.)

Elderly Lady: “Thank you! Bye!”

Me: *speechless*

I Got 99 Problems, But My Age Ain’t One

, , , , , , | Healthy | January 17, 2018

(My mum had a stroke two weeks ago. As she was in the hospital at the time it was caught exceptionally quickly, and her doctors believe there will only be some short-term memory loss. I don’t believe there is any, for the reason I am about to tell you. I have dropped by to visit when there are several nurses and her doctor by her bed, arguing.)

Mum: “See? There’s my son. Ask him if you don’t believe me!”

Me: “What’s going on?”

Doctor: “We believe it might be a sign of memory loss. You mother is adamant that her grandmother is still alive.”

Me: “She is. She turns 100 next week. You met her last Friday before she was discharged.”

Doctor: *stutters* “I…I see… She also believes that money has been stolen from her purse; £100 pounds to be exact. Can you confirm that she had this money in her purse while staying here?”

Me: “Yes. It was for my great-grandmother’s birthday. She literally got it out of the ATM in the hospital’s atrium what, twenty minutes before she had her stroke?”

(My mum nods.)

Me: “In fact, that’s why I came around. She called me this morning to get a card.”

(I shook the bag in my hand and the doctor blushed furiously at the realisation that everything my mum said was accurate. All the nurses then backed away, seemingly suspicious of each other. They never found the money, or figured out who stole it, but my mum demanded to be immediately moved to another hospital, and the nurses managed to pool together £100 themselves as compensation. My mum refused to take it, though, as she saw it as an admission that they collectively stole it.)

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