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Lost Your Pants In Translation

, , , , | Working | August 10, 2018

(It’s my first day at a sleep clinic and, despite that I am one of the few non-bilingual technicians, they gave me a patient who ONLY speaks Spanish. Luckily, my supervisor is aware of this and is going to translate for me.)

Me: “Okay, sir. These wires go on your legs, so please slip them through your shirt and pants until they come to a little below your knees.”

Supervisor: *translates in Spanish*

Patient: *drops pants, then stands there expectantly*

Me: “…”

Supervisor: “…”

Me: “What… What did you tell him?”

(I don’t think the language barrier was the only communication malfunction.)

To Have And To Like You

, , , , , | Romantic | August 10, 2018

(I’m sitting in the kitchen with my parents. My dad just recently made a Facebook account.)

Dad: “Will you marry me?”

Mom: “What?”

Dad: “On Facebook! Will you marry me?”

Mom: “Twenty-five years of marriage, and it doesn’t count for anything unless we’re Facebook official?”

Dad: “Yes!”

Mom: “Well… I’ll have to think about it.”

(They never became “Facebook official.”)

Fad Behavior Is Bad Behavior

, , , , | Right | August 10, 2018

(I work in a toy section in a super center that promotes a fad character I hate more than anything. My store is in a small town with not many local stores. The public has been begging them to get a fabrics section because there is no craft store within a four- or five-town radius. The party section is right across from my toys section, leading to this horrible conversation while I’m cleaning up after some destructive kids. I look at the destructive kids’ mother, who looks upset and lost.)

Me: “Can I help you with anything today?”

Customer: “Yeah, where the h*** is your [Fad Character] party stuff?”

Me: *mishearing her over one of her children, who is now yelling and tugging on me to get my attention* “Oh, the [Fad Character] toys are right there; it’s the rather ugly, yellow section.” *points down the aisle as my joke goes over her head*

Customer: *suddenly way more angry* “NO! Where is your [Fad Character] party stuff!?”

Me: “Oh! They would be over in the celebrations department; it’s just across the main aisle.”

(I point, tugging my hand from one of the children on my arm to do so.)

Customer: *looks at me like I’m an idiot* “I was already over there. Why don’t you have any?!”

Me: “Well, I’m not sure, but I can help you look.”

Customer: “No! There isn’t any over there! WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!”

(She is now turning red, she is so mad, and she’s starting freak me out.)

Me: “Well, if it’s not on the shelf, I can go over and scan it to see if it’s in the back room.”

Customer: “There’s nothing of it over there! WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!”

Me: “I can check in the back to see if we have any to come out.”

Customer: “BUT WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!”

Me: “I don’t control that section. I can take you to the person that controls and stocks that section to see if we have some I’m not aware of.”

Customer: “BUT WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!”

Me: “We recently got fabrics; it made celebrations smaller. I can check in the back or with the manager to see if that product was put on clearance somewhere to make space.”

Customer: “BUT WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!”

Me: “We don’t actually control our stock; our home office does, in another state.”

Customer: “WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!”

Me: “I can get a manager, but they will probably give you all the same options.”

Customer: “I DON’T WANT A F****** MANAGER, I WANT YOU TO TELL ME, WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY?!”

(I go through this process of telling her how our system works and repeating my options a few times, with her kids still hanging on me, which she has said nothing about.)

Me: *tired of going in circles but trying to hold a smile* “Well, you could see if our site has it; we offer free shipping on most items.”

Customer: “HIS BIRTHDAY IS ON SUNDAY!”

(It was Friday night. Then, we both noticed that her husband had been trying to get her attention and hand her a call on his phone. She proceeded to cuss loudly about me in the toy section around other children. I had to ask her children to let me go so I could work, and to follow their parents because both adults started to walk away without them.)

All Bark, No Bite

, , , , | Friendly | August 10, 2018

(I’ve just taken my geriatric golden retriever to a groomer within a larger store and, like most dogs, she is not happy about it. Before we reach the register, a small girl — maybe four or five — and her mother come out of an aisle.)

Girl: “PUPPY!”

Dog: *growls and turns away*

Girl: “Pet the puppy!”

Me: *I put my arm out to stop the girl from approaching* “I’m sorry, but I’d rather you didn’t pet her.”

Girl: “Why?”

Me: “Well, she just got a bath and she didn’t like it.”

Mother: “Why?”

Me: “Because she doesn’t like baths. So she’s grumpy and I don’t want your daughter to get hurt.”

Mother: “Does she bite?”

Me: “No, but she’s not in a good mood, and I’d rather she wasn’t provoked.”

Mother: “Are you threatening my daughter?”

Me: “No, I’m trying to protect her. [Dog] is old and just got a bath, so she’s not in a very good mood.”

Mother: “She’s fine. She’s good with dogs.” *to her daughter* “Go pet the puppy, sweetheart.”

Me: “Do not pet the puppy.”

Mother: “You have no right to tell my daughter what to do!”

Me: “And what happens if [Dog] does decide to lash out?”

Mother: “Why would you bring an a**hole dog to a public place?”

Me: “She’s not an a**hole; she’s old. F*** off.”

(I move to pass the two, keeping myself between my dog and the child. Just as we pass them, I turn to look back and see the girl reaching out to pet my dog.)

Me: “STOP!”

(My dog, as predicted, turns and growls at the girl, who recoils and starts crying.)

Mother: “Do not yell at my daughter!”

Me: “How many times do I have to say, ‘Do not pet my dog,’ before it sinks in?”

Mother: “She’s just trying to say hello!”

Me: “And I’m saying it’s not a good idea.”

Mother: “Well, [Store Manager] is a good friend of mine. I’m going to have you and your g**d*** dog banned!”

Me: “Okay, you do that.”

(I paid for my dog’s grooming and left the store. We’ve been back multiple times since, so I guess the woman wasn’t as high and mighty as she thought she was.)


This story is part of our Golden Retriever roundup!

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Gremlins In The Library

, , , , , , | Right | August 10, 2018

(I work the night shift at a large university library that is open 24 hours. There are only three staff members, me included, working this shift, and the library is fairly empty. In order to get into the library in the middle of the night, students have to swipe their student cards to activate the outer doors, and then are required to physically show the card to a staff member as they enter. We take turns checking cards at the door throughout the night, and it is currently my turn to do it. I’ve been sitting at the security podium by the door for about three hours already; it is required that someone remain at the door constantly in order to make sure that no non-students enter the library. As I glance up from the book I’ve been reading, I suddenly notice a small, white dog dart between two study rooms on the opposite side of the floor. Not sure at first if I’ve hallucinated it, I finally decide to radio my coworker.)

Coworker: “Is there a problem?”

Me: “Yeah… Um, you’re not going to believe this… but I think there’s a dog loose in the library.”

Coworker: *after a pause* “You let a dog into the library?”

Me: “No! Nobody’s come through the front doors in at least two hours, and I didn’t see anybody come in with a dog. I don’t know how it got in.”

(Another coworker, who has been listening in on the radio, decides to pipe in:)

Coworker #2: “You let a dog into the library?”

Me: “No! I don’t know how it got in!”

Coworker #1: “Where is it now?”

Me: “I think it’s in Study Room B.”

Coworker #2: “I’ll go check it out.”

Coworker #1: “All right. Radio back when you know what’s going on.”

(The coworker arrives a few minutes later and walks into the study room where I saw the dog enter. I hear her shout something unintelligible, and then her voice comes back on the radio)

Coworker #2: “It s*** all over the place!”

Coworker #1: *on the radio* “The dog did?”

Coworker #2: “Of course it was the dog!”

Me: “We hope it was the dog…”

Coworker #1: “All right, I’m coming down. Where is the dog now?”

Coworker #2: “Not in Study Room B. But he’s been here. He left his mark.”

Me: “I haven’t seen him come back this way, either.”

(My coworkers lock up Study Room B to be cleaned, and then do a sweep of the floor. They can’t find the dog, but they do find more of its feces scattered around the library, mostly in study rooms. Finally, they radio back to me.)

Coworker #1: “You’re sure this is a dog?”

Me: “You think a person is doing this?”

Coworker #1: “I guess not. It’s just…”

(He pauses.)

Me: “Just what?”

Coworker #2: “There’s a lot of s***, [My Name]. So much s***. It’s everywhere. This dog knows what he’s doing.”

(I try not to laugh as my coworkers frantically continue their search. Just as I’m about to radio in for an update, a white blur passes in my periphery, and I turn to see the dog darting beneath the wide central staircase, which is just a few yards from my post by the door.)

Me: *radioing* “Guys! He just went under the stairs! Do you want me to go try to grab him?”

Coworker #1: “No! Stay by the door. You need to watch for students. Just stay where you are; we’re coming to you!”

(They both come bolting down the stairs, and as they turn to duck under the steps to look for the dog, the dog darts back out the other side and goes running for an open study room opposite the stairs.)

Coworker #2: “No! Not in there! That’s one of the only rooms he hasn’t gotten yet!”

(I get up from my post to help give chase, but as [Coworker #1] passes me, he motions for me to sit back down. Begrudgingly, I obey. They chase the dog into the empty study room… and then back out again. They chase him around the floor for several minutes before the dog hops up the stairs and heads to the second floor. My coworkers frantically follow.)

Coworker #2: *on the radio again* “[My Name], watch the stairs. If he comes back your way, you ditch the doors and grab him. It’s time we put an end to this.”

(I suddenly hear someone shouting from the second floor. Concerned, I radio in to ask if everything is okay.)

Coworker #2: “The dog just blasted feces all over the Help Desk. I think there’s something wrong with this dog!”

(At that moment, I see a student swipe his card at the outer doors and enter the library. He walks up to me and shows me his card, as usual, then looks around.)

Student: “Hey, have you seen a little white dog in here?”

Me: “Yes! We’ve been trying to catch him for an hour. Is he yours?”

Student: “Yeah, I dropped him off.”

Me: “You… what?”

Student: “I said I dropped him off. Is he ready to leave?”

(I’m too dumbfounded for a moment to answer, and the student then turns to face the library and begins shouting.)

Student: “Gizmo! Gizmo, c’mere! C’mere, boy!”

(To my astonishment, the dog casually appears at the top of the stairs and makes his way down toward his owner. My coworkers follow, running at first, until they see that the dog is being beckoned by his owner. They slowly head toward us, visibly distraught by the entire experience, as the owner picks up his dog.)

Student: “Hey, Gizmo! Time to go!”

Coworker #1: “Hey, wait a minute!”

Student: “Oh, yeah? What’s up?”

Coworker #1: “That’s your dog?”

Student: “Yes.”

Coworker #1: “You can’t bring a dog into the library.”

Student: “I didn’t. I dropped him off.”

Coworker #1: “Well, he caused a huge disruption and damaged several of our study rooms. We’ve had to close them and they’ll need to be hosed down.”

Student: “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d be a problem.”

Coworker #2: “Well, he was! He defecated all over the library.”

Student: “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. But what do you want me to do?”

([Coworker #1], not quite sure how to handle this situation, ultimately decides to take the student’s information in case he may be asked to help pay for the cleaning that will be required. Still seemingly oblivious to the huge disruption that’s been caused by him and his dog, the student leaves, and my coworkers and I stand back for a moment to collect ourselves.)

Coworker #2: “Well, that was different.”

Coworker #1: “What is wrong with people? Did he think this was a doggy daycare or something?”

Me: “Honestly, I’m more concerned about what was wrong with that dog.”

Coworker #2: “Maybe he fed it after midnight.”