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They’re Very Green To All Of This

, , , | Learning | September 11, 2017

(I am a teaching assistant and I am helping out in a lesson of food technology. The students are making cupcakes. They were allowed to bring in food colouring of their choice.)

Student: “Mrs. [My Name], if I make my cakes green, will they be mint flavoured?”

Me: “No, you would need to put flavouring into the mix, like peppermint.”

Student: “But isn’t that clear?”

Me: “It can be, yes.”

Student: “But mint is green!”

Me: “It doesn’t have to be. Kendal Mint Cake isn’t green. After Eights aren’t green.”

(I have never seen someone’s mind collapse under such a simple concept, but he had to go to the nurse’s office and rest. He didn’t come back until close to the end of the lesson. I finished his cakes for him, but I didn’t use the colouring in case it confused him again.)

A Model Piece Of Motivation

, , | Right | September 11, 2017

(A model and actress has designed a line of clothing for our store and, as such, there are posters of her around the store, including one very big one of her in her underwear near the lingerie aisle. I’m in the food hall, nowhere near this poster, when an older man approaches me.)

Customer: *with a slightly creepy smile* “Hello.”

Me: “Hello.” *pause* “Can I help you at all?”

Customer: “Yes. You have a big poster of a lady over in your clothing section. I’d like to buy it.”

Me: “Um, I’m not sure if that’s possible. I can check?”

Customer: “Please.”

(I call the manager and explain the situation. She comes down and deals with the customer while I resume my job. Afterwards, the man walks off, and the manager heads to the lift area where she bursts out laughing.)

Me: “So, what did you say?”

Manager: “He offered me £20 for it. I said it would be up for a couple of months and he gave me his number and told me to text him so he could come in.”

Me: “What did he want it for, or do I not want to know?”

Manager: “He runs a gym, and wanted to put it on the wall to ‘motivate’ his clients…”

(The funniest thing? Another man came in later the same day, also wanting to buy the poster! He was told it had already been “sold”…)

The Definition Is Fluid

, , , , , , , | Romantic | September 10, 2017

(I have made some new friends, and I am discussing them with my boyfriend.)

Me: “…and then there’s [Friend’s Name], but they usually go by [Gender-Neutral Name].”

Boyfriend: “Because she’s a tomboy?”

Me: “Not really. They described themselves as gender-fluid.”

Boyfriend: “…”

Me: “You know? Someone who identifies as being either gender?”

Boyfriend: *look of realisation” “Oh! That’s what that means!”

Me: “What did you think it meant?”

Boyfriend: “I don’t want to say.”

Me: “You thought it was an actual fluid didn’t you?”

Boyfriend: “…maybe.”

Me: *jokingly* “And what did this magical fluid do? Make you change genders?”

Boyfriend: “…”

Me: “Seriously!?”

Boyfriend: “There’s medical breakthroughs every day!”

Me: “I’m pretty sure they’re focusing more on curing cancer than making you a drink to give you a vagina!”

No Springing Bok From This

, , , | Friendly | September 10, 2017

(My friends and I are all big Rugby supporters. At one point one of my friends introduces us to a young female couple that she knows. To put it mildly, they are both quite opinionated and rude, but because my friend likes them, I resolve to be civil to them. During the 2007 Rugby World Cup, South Africa looks likely to win it, and one of the girls starts putting up all manner of patriotic South Africa posts. For the final, she turns up at the bar wearing her Springbok jersey and goes crazy when they beat England to win. After, we’re all having a drink and she has an annoying smug grin on her face. My friend and my housemate are also there with me as well.)

Friend’s Friend: “Oh my God, I am so PROUD to be South African today!”

Me: “So, which part of your family is South African?”

Friend’s Friend: “My dad used to live there.”

Housemate: “He was born there?”

Friend’s Friend: “No, he was born in Rusholme; his parents lived there.”

Me: “So, his parents are South African then?”

(Suddenly, the girl gives me a really nasty look as if I’ve touched a nerve.)

Friend’s Friend: “Well…no, they’re from England.”

(Almost immediately, my friends and I exchange some worried glances. We can tell this conversation won’t end well.)

Friend: “So, did he grow up and go to school there at least?”

Friend’s Friend: “No, they just lived there for a couple years.”

Me: “Umm… so, you’re not South African then?”

Friend’s Friend: “What are you talking about? Of course, I am!”

Housemate: “You just said none of your family is South African, that means that you’re not either!”

Friend’s Friend: “My dad lived there, that makes me South African!”

Me: “My mum briefly lived in Japan as a child, but she doesn’t tell go around telling people she’s Japanese!”

Friend’s Friend: “ARE YOU ALL F****** STUPID? I’M A BLOODY SPRINGBOK, BORN AND BRED!”

Friend: “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but you’re not! You need to be a South African citizen, or at least have ancestry from there, to be what you’re claiming. Your dad living there doesn’t automatically make you a Bok!”

(Suddenly, the girl let out a really loud scream, which turned a lot of heads toward her, before storming out of the bar with her girlfriend in tow. She refused to speak to any of us again after that, and when we would see her on nights out she would avoid us like the plague. We heard through a mutual friend that she claimed we had “ruined her life” through our observations. Not really sure how she thought citizenship worked, but clearly she had the wrong idea.)

When Threat Makes You Fret

, , | Right | September 10, 2017

(I work on the homeless team for the local council dealing with temporary accommodation. These are very basic properties that we place homeless families in if they meet certain criteria, and I am then responsible for keeping an eye on them and helping them find permanent accommodation. This customer is placed in one of our units, and then causes us nothing but trouble for over six months, including threatening to stab one of my colleagues and to shoot me. As a result, I can only visit if the police come with me. I have to go and change the locks at the property, after a report that the door is wide open and no one is there. Four days later, after a report that the customer has now broken a window to get into the property, I receive a phone call…)

Client: “WHERE ARE MY KEYS?!”

Me: “They are at the area office. I did put a note through the door and on the window to tell you.”

Client: “That’s too far!” *It’s literally a five minute walk, if that.* “Can’t you deliver them?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can only visit if the police come with me, so you will need to go to the office.”

Client: “Yeah, why do you always have to bring them with you? I don’t like police.”

Me: “I have to bring them with me because you threatened to shoot me when I visited before.”

Client: “Yeah, I know, I know I did, but I threatened to shoot the police, too!”

(I struggled to see the logic to that one! He then went on to complain I hadn’t fixed his broken window… the one he had broken and was using as a front door…)