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Fills You With Warm Fuzzies (And Cold Stickies)

, , , , , , | Romantic | December 5, 2022

When we were first married, my husband worked the night shift, so he would get home while I was asleep. One night, I happened to be dreaming as he climbed into bed. For some reason, I dreamed that he was rubbing melted ice cream and dryer lint on his face.

From my perspective, I was watching him do something very strange and told him to clean his face.

From his perspective, he climbed into bed after a long shift at work, next to his loving wife, who sleepily turned to him and said:

Me: “I hate your face. It’s covered in garbage.”

If You Don’t Want To Be Treated Like A Child…

, , , | Right | December 5, 2022

For the past several years, I’ve worked in our public library’s computer lab. Most of my job consists of helping patrons print and doing some basic troubleshooting. It’s not very busy these days, but our management tries to schedule two people on the desk at all times to cover breaks and keep wait times down.

An older man is standing by our payment kiosk. He hasn’t asked for help, but it sounds like he’s struggling, so I head over to see what I can do. I see him about to insert his library card into the bill collector and, afraid he’s about to lose his card and potentially damage the machine, I hurry to intervene.

Me: “Oh, no, no, no! Not like that! Here, let me—”

Patron: “I AM NOT A TODDLER! Don’t you dare talk to me like one!”

I’m struck dumb with shock. This explosion came out of nowhere from what I can tell. All I can do is mutely point to where he needs to put his card to proceed and return to the desk once he’s got his prints. My coworker gives me a wide-eyed look and we nod to each other, a silent agreement that that was kind of crazy.

For a time, it’s peaceful, but before long, it sounds like the man is struggling again, this time resorting to muttered curses under his breath. Steeling myself, I go over to the man once more. This time, he’s sitting at a computer, so I stand opposite of him with a table between us. He refuses to look at me at first.

Me: “Sir, do you need any—”

Patron: “What I need is to not be treated like a child! I’m a grown man and will be respected as one!”

Me:Speaking of which, the language you have been using is inappropriate and needs to stop. We are here to help you, sir, and if you don’t want help from me personally, that’s fine and I understand. My coworker is here and she can help you, or we can contact a manager if that’s what you’d prefer. But we cannot help you if you don’t ask us for it. Do we have an understanding?”

The man had deflated somewhat, but he muttered petulantly about not cursing, and when I informed him that the desk was not at all far from where we were and we could hear him, he fell silent.

I returned to the desk and quietly offered an apology to my coworker for putting her on the spot like that. Thankfully, she said she understood and agreed that it was probably the right call.

Sure enough, the patron came to my coworker and asked for her help before leaving. I was helping someone else at the time, so I don’t know how the exchange went, but it was certainly much quieter, and my coworker reported that he was much more polite with her.

With A “Mama Bear” Like That, This Cub Didn’t Stand A Chance

, , , , , , , , , | Friendly | CREDIT: california-old-timer | December 5, 2022

This took place in the summer of 1975. At the time, my sons were nine and seven, and they were in the Cub Scouts. Like most kids, they quickly made friends with the other kids, and as a dad, I made friends with the other dads that volunteered. Most of us got along well with the families except for [Mother] and her son.

[Mother] was extremely clueless about her own son and basically refused to parent him. She was more into the lifestyle of a mom, being in mommy groups, and spending her husband’s money rather than being a good parent to her son. The dad was a good person but worked a lot so he was absent. Their nine-year-old son, [Kid] was a NOTORIOUS BULLY. He was overly aggressive, he hit other children, he stole items, and he was extremely disrespectful toward other adults. When the other parents brought this up, [Mother] would make constant excuses for him.

Mother: “He’s just a boy! He’s just expressing himself! Your kids started it!”

What made it worse was that [Mother] would pacify her son’s behavior with sweets, toys, and other things that he wanted.

Because of this, the other parents and I didn’t invite [Mother] and her son to events that took place outside of Scouts. [Mother] would often call our home about getting sleepovers or having her son play with our kids, which we were adamant about not happening. If we didn’t give in, she said:

Mother: “You’re bullying my son by excluding him! How could you do that to a child?!”

She also threatened to call the governor for discrimination because she’s a baptist.

In late June, the other parents and I were talking about a beach trip to Santa Cruz and bringing our families with us. We talked through everything among the ten other moms and dads, planning this out. [Mother] must have overheard what we were saying.

Mother: “Can you take my son with you? I have to do something with my husband.”

Me: “What?! Where?”

Mother: “To Santa Cruz.”

Me: “Uh, no. You and your son are not invited. This a friends-only trip.”

Kid: “You’re a big meanie!”

He kicked me in the leg and ran away.

Mother: “Look what you did! Child hater!”

She chased after him.

Because this was a big trip, we decided to go shopping and hit the road on Friday. We had to do lots of shopping in bulk to reasonably feed twelve adults and eighteen kids.

My wife and I, along with four other parents, were watching the cars and keeping the kids occupied. For a brief moment, I turned my attention to my car to turn the air conditioning up cause my kids said that they were hot.

I turned back around and [Kid] was there with his bag and [Mother] was peeling out in her station wagon. We are all just in shock, asking ourselves, “Is this really happening to us?”

The boy’s mother had given him a note that listed his allergies and an emergency phone number. We called — no answer. We couldn’t leave the kid there alone and we were not going to bring him with us, so we opted to call the police. We put the kid in the car to keep him out of the sun, and we made the call. We report [Mother] for the abandonment of her child. They sent an officer out in about fifteen minutes.

As the other parents and I were heading back to the cars to wait for the police, we saw that [Kid] was pulling my four-year-old daughter’s hair. The reason why? The kids had some snacks in the cooler and didn’t want to share them with [Kid]; he didn’t ask them nicely, just demanded that they give him food.

As we ran toward the cars, ten of the boys pulled [Kid] off of my daughter and started to BEAT HIS A**! Now, the kids had two years of rage toward this kid bottled up inside, so what took place wasn’t surprising.

By the time we got there and broke up the fight, [Kid] was bleeding and crying. He called us all mean and started cussing us out and hitting things.

Kid: “I want to go on the trip! I want to go on the trip! I want to go on the trip now!

He kept parroting this over and over again until I yelled at him to shut up, which only made him cry more. Now, I will admit I was probably in the wrong here. Maybe I should have extended some compassion, but my child was crying and being harassed.

The police arrived soon after and we explained what had happened.

The police took [Kid], and apparently, he was dropped off at his father’s job. [Mother] received a child neglect charge. When she saw that our kids had beaten [Kid] up, she tried to charge our kids for assault. It was dropped because it was self-defense.

This Customer’s Twin Brain Cells Are Struggling

, , , , , | Right | December 4, 2022

My best friend and I are shopping at a mall, and just for fun, we have decided to dress alike. We are both wearing black and purple Tripp pants and black tops.

We stop at an alternative clothing store for a bit and start browsing the back wall. Someone says, “Excuse me,” loudly, and [Friend] assumes they want the shirts he is currently standing in front of, so he moves to the side a bit. 

This is followed up by a louder, “Excuse me!” so he turns to see which section they’re trying to get to so that he can get out of their way.

Friend: “Am I blocking the shirts, or did you want these tops over here?”

Customer: “I need you to unlock the fitting area for me.”

[Friend] realizes what’s happening.

Friend: “Oh, sorry, I don’t work here. I think I saw an employee over by the anime stuff, though.”

Customer: “Are you sure you don’t work here?”

Friend: “Yes.”

Customer: “Because your coworker over there is wearing the exact same uniform as you.”

Friend: “Oh, she’s my bestie. We decided to match today because it makes people think we’re twins.”

Customer: “You’re a guy; she’s a girl.”

Friend: “Yeah, but people see the matching outfits and assume we are.”

Customer: “You’ve told this lie before, haven’t you?”

Friend: “It’s not a lie. We’re not employees here. Please leave us alone.”

The customer actually leaves, and we assume that’s the end of it. Unfortunately, it is not.

About ten minutes later, the customer comes over with an employee in tow and points us both out.

Customer: “Them. They told me some bulls*** story about them being twins.”

Employee: “Uhh, they aren’t employees here. I think they’re matching because they really are twins.”

Customer: “They can’t be twins. They’re not both boys or girls.”

I have a mental “WTF” moment.

Employee: “I can’t do anything if people want to dress alike in our stores. I’d be happy to help you find what you’re looking for today.”

Finally, the employee is able to corral the customer away from us.

Friend: “Twins now have to be the same sex?”

Me: “Dude, I told you the public school system here sucks. But hey, next time, you could cross-dress.”

The Travel Disaster That Wasn’t

, , , , , , , , , , , | Right | December 4, 2022

Work has sent me off to Chicago to conduct a training. I have arrived at the airport in San Diego, but the plane is delayed. It happens, but I’m now worried about my connection since the flight is not direct.

While we’re waiting, there is a small earthquake. Is this going to affect my flight? Yes and no. It is large enough to be felt but small enough that they’re just taking the reports of all the staff that there is no damage at face value and continuing. But my flight is still delayed. What was supposed to have been a 9:00 am flight is now well after noon, but it still hasn’t been canceled.

The flight finally comes, but I have clearly missed my connection, and by the time they get me onto a new plane for Chicago and I get into O’Hare, it’s about midnight. The rental car agency has closed, and I need to get to North Chicago, about thirty miles away. My hotel is also up there.

My first decision is to find a room where I am, get my rental car in the morning, and hightail it up to my location to hopefully get there in time. However, the cost of the hotel by the airport is outrageous, so I make some more phone calls and find a long-haul taxi service to get me to my hotel. I have called to let them know that I am here but I’m stuck at the airport.

Fortunately for me, the training is taking place at a location right across the street from the hotel, so I don’t need transportation if I can just get to the hotel. They understand and say that they’ll be waiting for me and will have all the paperwork set up so that all I’ll need to do when I get there is sign on the line and I can go straight to bed.

The taxi driver is very sympathetic to my plight.

Taxi Driver: “How are you going to get back to the airport?”

Me: “I’ll either have someone at the training give me a ride back or find another taxi service to get me back.”

Taxi Driver: “No, no, I’ll have none of that. When is your flight out, and when do you expect to be done with training?”

I tell him, and I point out that the timing is such that I’ll pretty much need to leave immediately after the training in order to have enough time to get to the airport and through security to make my flight.

Taxi Driver: “I’ll make sure that I’m available at that time.”

He gives me his business card.

Taxi Driver: “Call me an hour before you think you’ll be done so I can be there to collect you.”

The next day went off pretty much just fine. I did my training, I called the driver, and he came to get me, driving a bit quickly (but not recklessly) in order to get me to the airport on time.

To that taxi driver, thank you so much for this. I’m sure that part of it was that you’d have a good fare, but it was still exactly what I needed given the predicament that I was in.

And by the way: when I got to the hotel, the paperwork was right there, I signed, and they directed me to the room that was right there on the first floor by the front desk: room 101.

It was actually a very nice room.