That Note Is Half-Baked

, , , , | Right | November 5, 2017

(I work in a bakery, and customers often call in to put bread on hold, since we make mostly pastries. One night, my manager picks up the phone, and when he hangs up he’s laughing.)

Manager: “[My Name]! One sesame miche! Thin-sliced! For [Customer]! Also, write his name on the bag, not the bread.”

Me: “Did he specify that?”

Manager: *still laughing* “Yes.”

(I assume the guy is joking, and when he comes in later to pick up the bread I’m prepared to joke with him. However, this customer is very serious, and his eyes are darting back and forth.)

Customer: “It’s edible, right?”

Me: “Yes, sir. I assure you that I did not write on the bread.”

Customer: “You’re sure?”

Me: “Yes, sir. I sliced it myself, wrapped it myself, and wrote the note myself. It’s fine.”

(The customer paid for the bread and left, still looking suspicious. I really want to know if someone has written on his bread before.)

Bowling for Come-Ups

, , , , , , , , | Related | November 5, 2017

(My daughter’s father and I have separated, and she is crying a lot in school because of it. We have a meeting with her teacher, and she suggests maybe making a CD that our daughter can listen to in school to help calm her down. On the drive home, we are discussing what songs we can put on there.)

Daughter’s Father: “There’s this one song I put on when she’s with me that she likes dancing to.”

Me: “Is it school-appropriate?”

Daughter’s Father: “Yeah, it’s by Michael Moore.”

Me: “…”

Daughter’s Father: “…”

Me: “Who?”

Daughter’s Father: “Michael Moore. You know, the thrift store song guy!”

Me: “You mean Macklemore?!”

Didn’t Register The Order

, , , , , | Right | November 5, 2017

(I drop into the very small department store up the road to get bread and things for lunch. I have about six items total by the time I get to the register. I am third in line. There seems to be some problem with the credit card reader for the person being served. The cashier tries a few things, but something is clearly amiss. I hear someone behind me say, “Excuse me,” but as I am blocking nothing, I do not realize they are speaking to me. I am casually watching the payment drama ahead of me.)

Lady: *louder now* “Excuse me!”

(I turn and see a woman with one item in her hand. She is clearly trying to push past me.)

Lady: “I just need to ask him something.”

(I step to the side.)

Lady: *to cashier* “Excuse me. Excuse me!”

(The cashier is clearly busy and still talking to the lady trying to pay.)

Lady: “Excuse me!”

Cashier: “Just a minute.”

(The payment finally goes through and the cashier looks up to answer the impatient woman.)

Cashier: “Yes?”

Lady: “Is the other register open?”

(There are only two registers in this store. We can all see the other register from where we are standing. We can clearly see there is no one standing by it.)

Cashier: “No. He is on break.”

(The lady looks at the counter, but it is covered with the items being purchased by the person in front of me. I deliberately step forward slightly so that she cannot step between that customer and me. The cashier quickly scans the next customer’s purchases. There is no further problem with the card reader now, and it is my turn. I put my items down and the cashier begins to scan my things.)

Lady: “You could have let me go ahead of you.”

Me: “Yes, I certainly could have.”

(I paid for my things and left.)

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I Came, I Saw, I Stupid

, , , , , | Learning | November 5, 2017

(My advanced-placement world history class is talking about the classical empires, and my teacher has started talking about Julius Caesar.)

Teacher: “Because of Julius Caesar, and his impact on the Roman Empire…”

Student #1: “Wait, what? Julius Caesar was a real person? I thought he was made-up!”

Student #2: “Yeah! I thought Shakespeare just made him up! He was real?”

Teacher: *sighing* Yes, [Students], he was a real person.”

The Situation Is Agonizingly Fluid

, , , | Healthy | November 5, 2017

I had some issues with ovarian cysts when I was in high school, so I had to go in for a pelvic ultrasound. In the instructions we received prior the appointment I was told I needed to drink 32 oz of water before coming in so that my bladder would be full, which helps them to get better images. Now, I was 15 and very skinny. I had just gone through a growth spurt and at 5’5″ I weighed in around 100 pounds. I drank the water and immediately had to pee; I looked down, my pelvic area was bulging already. This was 10 minutes after I drank the water, right as we were leaving, and it was a 30 minute drive to the office.

Needless to say, that drive, through a bumpy, uneven construction site, was miserable. I was in such physical pain by the time we got to the doctor that I was in tears sitting in the waiting room. When I finally got called back to the ultrasound room and I lay down on the table, the ultrasound tech gave my visibly full bladder, by this point halfway to a pregnant belly, a bit of a side eye, but continued with her explanation of the procedure. I heard none of this, as all of my energy and focus were tied up in not urinating all over that table.

She begins the ultrasound, poking at the watery skin ball that is my pelvis, until after a few moments she stops. She can’t see anything. There’s too much liquid.

I ask her what to do and she tells me that I need to go to the bathroom (which was luckily adjacent to the exam room) and “pee a little, then stop” so that there would be a good amount of liquid for her. By this point, I have been in intense physical pain because of this full bladder for roughly an hour, so these instructions felt more than a little impossible. But, being a determined kid, I went in there and against all odds, I did it. So the rest of the ultrasound goes off without a hitch, and afterward I am finally able to fully relax my bladder for the first time that day.

As I was getting ready to leave, the technician asked me how much water I had been instructed to drink, and was appalled when I told her 32 oz. She went off about how they should’ve looked at my chart to see my height and weight because they would’ve been able to tell just from that that the amount should’ve been lower, and it was lucky that I was able to control my bladder so well; otherwise, the whole appointment would’ve been a waste.

A few days later my mom gets a call from the doctor’s office and guess what? Turns out the whole appointment was, in fact, a waste, since the notes were wrong in my file and the ultrasound tech performed an abdominal ultrasound instead of a pelvic one. I was less than pleased.

At least I knew not to drink so much water for the next one.