The Mother Of All Assumptions

, , , | Learning | April 19, 2018

(It may sound odd, but there is a 20-year age-gap between my little sister and me. Our dad died a few years ago, and our mom has been disabled since a car crash a couple years ago, so I take care of my sister most of the time. At the time of the story, she is six, and I am 26. It should be noted, despite me looking years younger — I am frequently mistaken for a teenager — people often think I’m her mother. This happens at a parent-teacher conference with her teacher, who I have met many times.)

Teacher: “Hello, Mrs. [Our Last Name].”

Me: “Oh, [My First Name] is fine.”

Teacher: “Ah, yes. Well, [Sister] has been excelling in reading, but her math scores are very low for a child of her age.”

Me: “Yes, I’ve been giving her extra help. Difficulty with math runs in the family.”

Teacher: “About that… I was thinking it might be due to her home life; as her mother, you’d know best.”

Me: “Oh, no. I thought you knew, I’m [Sister]’s sister. Our mom couldn’t make it, so I came.”

Teacher: “It’s okay. You don’t have to play games with me. I won’t let the secret slip to [Sister].”

Me: “Excuse me? What secret?”

Teacher: “I know you are her mother and that your mother claims to be her mother to protect you from the stigma of a teen pregnancy. It’s all right; as I said, I won’t tell [Sister].”

Me: “What?! No. I’m her sister, not her mother. I was not a teen mom. I’m here to talk about how she’s doing in school, so if we could continue?”

(She continued to make insinuations that I was my sister’s mother, and even “accidentally” used the term “mom” several more times. She had no interest in really talking about how my sister was doing in school, and I found out my sister wasn’t really thriving in her class. We had her moved to another teacher who turned out to be much better, and her math skills went up, too.)

 

Credited With The Sound Of Silence

, , , , | Working | April 19, 2018

(I’m getting ready to move two hours away and need to set up electricity for the new apartment I’m moving to. The power company at my new apartment is different than the one at my current apartment, so I call the new company to get an account set up.)

Representative: “You need power turned on at [date] for [address]; is this correct?”

Me: “Yep, you got it.”

Representative: “Okay, since you have never had an account with us, there will be a deposit.”

(Several seconds of silence follow as I’m hoping there will be a followup to his last sentence.)

Me: “Is that just because I’ve never had power with you before, or can you do like a credit check?”

Representative: “If you had let me FINISH, I would have said that you would have to pay a deposit assuming you fail a credit check.”

(Yes, he yelled the word “finish” and I’m pretty angry at how much of a jerk this guy is being.)

Me: “Then run my d*** credit. Are you running it yet? Are you finished talking? Is it credit check time? I’m assuming that you not talking means you are finished with your sentence. Of course, I thought that before, when you were quiet for five full seconds, but maybe I’m wrong. Go ahead… Run my credit.”

Representative: *a little bit nicer* “Um… Okay. I will go ahead and run your credit, now.”

(A few more seconds pass.)

Representative: “Okay. You do not have to pay a deposit. Your credit score is really good.”

Me: “Didn’t think I would need to pay one.”

Representative: “Your account is set up. I’m going to send you over to a survey to rate our conversation. Remember to rate me fairly based on the service I have provided today.”

(I rated him VERY fairly based on the service he provided.)

Wishing For Her Hands To Be Bitten

, , , , , , | Right | April 19, 2018

When I was 16 years old, I worked in a children’s museum where I was in charge of the aquarium section. We had a “touch tank” where people could feel sea life. Because the animals are delicate, we had a strict policy that people could only touch animals I had put on trays at the edge of the tanks. Despite this policy, (and numerous prominent signs stating the policy) people would routinely stick their hands in the parts of the tank that were off limits.

One day, a woman came in and proceeded to repeatedly stick her hands into the tank, despite my requests. Finally, I forcefully said, “Ma’am, please don’t stick your hands into that part of the tank, as it distresses the animals.” She pulled her hands out, flicked water in my face, said, “You just need to chill,” and stomped off, cursing about “little s***s who think they know everything.”

When I’m With You, It’s Electric

, , , , , | Romantic | April 19, 2018

(My boyfriend and I are sitting on the couch when my cat jumps up and lies down between us. I start petting him, when my boyfriend gets my attention.)

Boyfriend: “Ow!”

Me: “Huh?”

Boyfriend: “He lay down on my hand and when you were petting him, the static built up and discharged through me.”

Me: *starts petting the cat again*

Boyfriend: “Ow. Ow. Ow. It’s going through my pinky, of all fingers!”

Needs A Change Of Parent

, , , , | Right | April 19, 2018

(I am what they call a “floater” — basically a substitute — at a local day-care. This means I might work with different age groups each shift I am called in to work. Today, I am working in the one-year-old room. We have a schedule for when we change the children’s diapers, but they are also periodically checked throughout the day. A coworker and I have our group playing outside in the fenced-in area. A mom comes up to the fence to pick up her baby after signing her child out of the office. I hand the child over the fence to the mother, then go in to get her child’s things. She takes her child and the things to the car just a few feet away, so I think nothing more of it. A minute later the mother comes back to me, holding her child out in front of her as if she is disgusted by her.)

Mother: “She needs to be changed.”

(I wordlessly stare at the mother for a few seconds before it registers to me that, yes, this is actually happening. Not wanting to cause a scene or fuss with the mother, I take the child back in, change her, bring her back out to the mother, and hand her back over the fence.)

Coworker: “Did she really just bring her child back to us just so we could change her?”

Me: “Yep.”

(Both of us stared at the mother as she drove away, wondering how in the world some people ever became parents.)

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