Your Fiancé Is An Armful

, , , | Romantic | November 27, 2017

(I’m trying to prepare a simple meal that involves putting frozen food on baking trays, which I line with aluminium foil. My fiancé comes into the kitchen to “help.” He comes up behind me and threads his arms through mine which results in my elbows being forced against my side, making it very hard to use my arms for anything. I am now straining to put a piece of foil over the baking tray as my arms are held back.)

Fiancé: *while laughing at my attempts* “To understand the T-Rex, you must become the T-Rex.”

Me: *laughing while eventually succeeding in my task despite the handicap*

Making Them See In New Directions

, , , | Right | November 27, 2017

(I work in the information centre of a shopping centre. A colleague next to me has been on a call while I’m assisting shoppers. After they leave, my colleague hands the phone over to me saying the caller needs directions.)

Me: “Hello? I believe you’re looking for directions to [Shopping Centre]?”

Caller: “Yes. That other girl is useless.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you local?”

Caller: “Umm, yes. I think so.”

Me: “Can you give me a vague description of where you are?”

Caller: “That’s what the other girl asked for! Why are you wanting to know where I am?”

Me: “I can’t give you directions unless I know where to start from.”

Caller: “No. You cannot know where I am. Just give me directions and stay out of my personal life!”

Me: “Can I ask if you know where [Restaurant in City Centre] is?”

Caller: “Yes?”

Me: “Would you mind giving me directions?”

Caller: “Umm, sure. You’re at [Shopping Centre]. Where is that?”

Me: “Why do you need to know? Just give me directions.”

Caller: “How else am I meant to get you there?”

Me: “Just give me the directions.”

Caller: “But, Jesus f****** Christ! How can I give you directions if…” *hangs up*

Colleague: “Doesn’t sound like you were able to help him, either.”

Me: “Oh, I helped him. He may never get here, but I certainly helped him.”

Something Doesn’t Clicky

, | Healthy | November 26, 2017

(I am fifteen and fortunate enough to be able to attend the birth of my baby sister with my dad. This takes place only an hour after she is born.)

Doctor: “Now, Mrs. [Mum], is it all right if a student doctor does the examination on your baby?”

Mum: “Yes, of course; they have to practice!”

Doctor: “[Student]! You can come in now!

Student: *examines my baby sister and then looks worried* “I’m going to refer [Sister] here. She is exhibiting signs of clicky hips.”

Mum: “Should we be worried? [My Name] didn’t have any of that. Is it going to affect her as she gets older?!”

Student: “It’s likely she’ll just have a little fabric harness. It’s easily corrected.”

(Two weeks later we are sitting in a clinic room in the hospital waiting for the doctor. My mum sits next to a lady with a toddler and a baby not much older than my sister.)

Lady: “Hello, why are you here?”

Mum: “We’ve been referred. Apparently, [Sister] has clicky hips.”

Lady: *looks surprised* “Same here! Did you have [Student] examine her?”

Mum: “Yes, that was him!”

Lady: “I’ve talked to three other ladies who’ve been referred, and each of their babies have absolutely nothing wrong. I’m betting it’s the same for our two!”

(It turned out the student had referred about twenty mothers over the two days he’d been in the department, and none of their babies had clicky hips!)

Walked Into A Happy Resolution

, , , , | Hopeless | November 25, 2017

(Due to various circumstances I find myself finishing work at 2:30 am one night. The rest of my team is travelling on to a different job, and are going nowhere near the hotel I’m checked in to. I’ve already tried the taxi number I was given at the hotel, but there are no cars available. I try over twenty more numbers given to me by Google, but the only company that answers doesn’t have anything available to go to a small, rural town to collect just one person. I decide that I can walk the eight miles back to the hotel instead. It’s unlit most of the way, and about two-thirds of the way there I end up on a road without a pavement, but I make it safely in just under two-and-a-half hours. The night receptionist is outside smoking when I arrive. We chat for a bit, and I explain what I’ve just done.)

Me: “Breakfast, then a nap, then home, I think. What time’s checkout?”

Receptionist: “It’s at noon, but… Yeah, do you want a later checkout?”

Me: “Nah, work won’t pay for it.”

Receptionist: “I’ll put it in as a freebie. You’ve earned it.”

Me: “Well…”

Receptionist: “You’ve just walked farther in one night than I will in a month. There! You’re booked in for a 2:00 pm checkout. Plenty of time for breakfast and a nap.”

Me: “Thanks!”

(I got enough sleep to manage the three-hour train journey home safely, thanks to that receptionist.)

It Must Have Been A Very Long Year

, , , , | Working | November 24, 2017

Receptionist: “Can I get your date of birth, please?”

Me: “[Day], December, 1988.”

Receptionist: “December?”

Me: “Yes.”

Receptionist: *looking around confused and asking her colleague* “Umm, December?”

Me: “Umm, like [Day], 12, 1988.”

Receptionist: “Oh, that’s much better. I didn’t know which month December was.”

(Her colleague gives me a sympathetic look as the receptionist finalises my registration. I head into the waiting room. They are just within earshot.)

Receptionist: *to colleague* “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Colleague: “I didn’t know either.”

(At least they were honest about it.)

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