A Drama To Keep You On The Edge Of Someone Else’s Seat

, , , , , | Friendly | November 25, 2017

(My husband and I go to see the new movie, “Thor: Ragnarok.” We bought tickets months ago for a few nights after opening, right in the center of the screen. The theater fills up fast as people buy the tickets around us. We get to our seats to find that a couple is sitting right in our seats.)

Me: “Excuse me. You’re in our spot.”

Girl: “Yeah, about that! So, we bought the seats that are on the outside of us here, so we were wondering if you guys could trade us and take the ones we bought.”

(I’m completely shocked at the idea that someone would even ask for me to trade my seats for theirs, so that my husband and I wouldn’t even be sitting next to each other.)

Me: “We’d be fine maybe moving over, so you guys can sit together and we can sit together.”

Girl: “No, we’d really prefer to have these seats.”

Me: “I’m sorry, then; you’re going to have to deal with sitting apart, in the seats you bought.”

Guy: “Come on, girl. You probably don’t even know what the movie is about.”

(I am just completely taken aback by this, and beyond pissed.)

Me: “My husband and I went to the last Thor movie together as our first date. We have been excited for this one. Regardless of my knowledge, I bought the seats you’re sitting in. I already offered to move over and let you guys sit together, but you’d rather have us take your seats. So, you can sit in the seats you bought, or I’ll go and get the staff to kick you out. Which one is it going to be?”

(The girl looks like she is about to melt down and throw a tantrum about not getting us to switch.)

Girl: “Fine! Just move over one; we’re fine doing that!”

Me: “That offer has passed. You guys can sit in the d*** chairs you purchased, and you can sit down and shut up.”

(The girl is now so pissed she stands up and pours her drink on the leather chair.)

Girl: “F*** you!”

Me: “Thanks, but you’re not my type.”

(She ended up causing issues a few minutes into the movie. My husband had already alerted a staff member about them being rowdy, and when she started to act up, the couple was removed. My husband said I should have just let her take up the offer I made, but I’m not going to let any entitled b**** like that have anything. Maybe buy your tickets sooner if you’re going to go to a Marvel movie. Idiot.)

Reach For The Stars, Just Not Mine

, , , , , , , , | Right | November 17, 2017

(I’m out picking a few things up at the local supermarket when I begin to hear a woman ranting loudly at an employee. After about a minute of yelling, I go to investigate.)

Customer: “You’re going straight to Hell for wearing that kind of thing! Satanist! SATANIST!”

(The employee looks to be about 16, and is stocking some shelves. Her protests go unheard, but she is soldiering on, even though I can tell she is about to cry.)

Customer: “It’s witch-scum like you who are calling the devil into our city. You make me sick, wearing a pentagram! Devil w****! DEVIL W****!”

Employee: “Ma’am, for the last—”

(She is cut off by another burst of ranting. I start to walk over. The employee turns to me and I see that her necklace is not, in fact, a pentagram at all.)

Me: “Ma’am, that is enough. Leave this poor girl alone. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Customer: *sneering* “And what are you? Her witch-lord? Going to cast a spell on a good Christian woman like me? DEMONSPAWN!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am not a ‘witch-lord.’ I’m someone who can tell the difference between a pentagram and a STAR OF DAVID, which you, apparently, cannot!”

(The customer went white as a sheet and reexamined the necklace. She left, running. The employee was still near tears, but kept it together.)

Unfiltered Story #100010

, , | Unfiltered | November 15, 2017

I’m working the pre-close shift on a pretty slow Tuesday. Not a lot of people have come in, and my coworkers and I are all relaxed, when someone pulls up to the drive through.

Me: (through the headset) Welcome to (Fast Food Place), what can I get for you tonight?
Customer: Could I have your 4 for 4 deal, please?
Thinking I misheard her, I enter in our 2 for $4 deal, and try to confirm.
Me: Was that the 2 for $4 deal?
Customer: No, like the 4 for 4 deal? With the fries, and the burger?
I suddenly realize what she’s talking about, and have to stifle a laugh.
Me: Um, are you thinking of Wendy’s? Because we don’t have a 4 for 4 deal, or burgers for that matter.
Customer: Really? Then what were you trying to sell me?
Me: I can get you the 2 for $4 roast beef deal, which is two classic sandwiches for $4.
Customer: Alright, sounds good.
Me: Okay, and what else can I get for you?
Customer: Can I switch out for two frosties?
At this point, I don’t know what she’s talking about, so I just say nothing.
Customer: (realizing her mistake) Is that Wendy’s again? OH, MY H***, I HATE WENDY’S!
I am shaking with silent laughter, while my coworkers who have been hearing the conversation are laughing their heads off. After that, the order went smoothly, but for the rest of the night I had a smile on my face at the thought of the “I hate Wendy’s lady.”

Read Alert!

, , , , , | Learning | November 9, 2017

(I work at a printing shop at a university with a really big business program. We get a lot of students printing out important projects for their business classes. They are usually really picky about how the projects look and will print two or three copies before they are finally satisfied with the result. A student comes in to print a booklet for her project.)

Student: “So, all of these pages look good, but this page needs to be red.”

(I am confused, because she doesn’t have any red pages anywhere else on her document, and if she wants it red she just has to go change it before printing.)

Me: “Well, if you want it red you can go change it in the document and we can print just that page again.”

Student: “No! I need it red! It’s all blurry and it needs to be red!”

Me: “Again, all I can do is print; if you want to change the color, you have to do that yourself.”

Student: “No! I don’t want it red; it needs to be read, like readable!”

(She was pointing to the words on her page that were too blurry to read and she needed them clear enough to read.)

A Welcome Method To Overstaying Your Welcome

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 7, 2017

(Living in a college apartment with five other girls can get interesting. One of the girls goes home for a month in the summer, and when she comes back, her sister comes with her. She asks each of us if we’d mind her sister staying for a week or two, just until she finds a place of her own. Since we’re all busy helping prepare for the wedding of another roommate — and helping her move to her married apartment, while another girl takes over her spot — we don’t mind, so long as it’s only for a week, two tops. She also asks to borrow my camp cot. Unfortunately, a month passes, and her sister’s still there. There are other issues as well, and I get designated to talk to the roommate, since she’s a friend of mine.)

Me: “Hey, [Roommate #1], can we talk? It’s about your sister.”

Roommate #1: *resigned sigh* “Sorry, but you know how it is. It can be hard to find an apartment, especially when you’re new to a town.”

Me: “That’s just it. I was talking with her last night, and she hasn’t even started looking! She tried to foist me off by saying she’d start this weekend, and then immediately called [Friend] to make plans for the entire weekend.”

Roommate #1: “Ugh. I’ll talk to her.”  

Me: “If that was it, that would be one thing, but… the cot’s destroyed, and it wasn’t cheap; I don’t know how she managed to damage it so badly. She’s also been eating everyone else’s food, and when we’ve asked her to stop, she refuses and says she’ll just replace it. But she hasn’t. I’m out over $100 in food already, and some of the others are out more. We really can’t afford to feed your sister; we’ve budgeted carefully to get through the semester. It’s one thing if she asked, or if we offered. But just taking our food off the shelves is theft, and a couple of the girls are getting really upset; they want to call the landlord and get him to sort it out. I’ve talked them out of it, because his solution would probably be to cancel your contract, and none of us want you punished. It’s not your fault.”

Roommate #1: *bursts into tears* “I’m so sorry! I’m trying to get her to start looking for a job and a place of her own. I really am!”

Me: “Oh, hon! I know. It’s not your fault. It’s harder when it’s family. I get that. What can I do to help?”

Roommate #1: “I don’t know. I’m trying to motivate her, but… she just doesn’t seem to care.”

Me: “All right. She’s your little sister, and you feel like you have to protect her. I’ve been there. Do you want me to step in? I’m not her sister. I can be the designated b**** in this situation; it doesn’t matter to me if she hates me.”

Roommate #1: “Would you? Could you? But what… I mean, do you have an idea?”

Me: “I do, if you want me to. In fact, I can almost guarantee it will work. But I’ll need you to stand firm with us.”

Roommate #1: “I can do that. What’s the plan?”

(I tell her, and then we wait for her sister to come home, which doesn’t happen until very late. I’m waiting for her on the front porch.)

Me: “[Sister], we need to talk.”

Sister: “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m bushed!”

Me: “No, it can’t wait. We have a problem.”

Sister: “Well, talk to [Roommate] about it. I’m going to bed!”

Me: “That’s just it. No, you’re not.”

Sister: “What?”

Me: “You don’t live here. We agreed to let you stay for a week, two at most. As of today, it’s been a month. If you want to stay another night, you need to start paying your share of rent. That’s [amount], by the way.”

Sister: “I can’t afford that!”

Me: “Not my problem. Although any apartment around here is going to run more than one seventh of this place, just so you know.”

Sister: “Seriously, can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m going to bed.”

Me: “You’re still not getting it, are you? You aren’t crossing this threshold again.”  

Sister: *it finally clicks that I’m serious* “You can’t do that!”

Me: “Actually, I can. I live here. You don’t.”

Sister: “Yes, I do!”

Me: “No, you don’t. Your name is not on the contract, you’re not paying rent, and you’re stealing everyone’s food. And if you step through that door again, I’m calling the cops and having you arrested.”

Sister: “For what?”

Me: “Theft and trespassing, for starters. And since the door’s locked, it would also be breaking and entering.”

Sister: “You can’t do this!”

Me: “Yes, I can.”

Sister: “But what about my stuff?”

Me: “Your sister and I can bring you out anything you need, and we’ll both be glad to help you haul everything to your new apartment, just as soon as you’ve found one.”

Sister: “But where am I supposed to sleep?”

Me: “The landlord took the old love seat out of the living room last week; it’s on the patio out back. My sleeping bag is already waiting for you. I’ll need it back in the morning.”

Sister: “You can’t just leave me out here! I’ll start looking tomorrow, but you can’t just leave me outside!”

Me: “Oh, just stop whining for one second in your life! It’s still summer; you’ll be lucky if it gets down to 70. You’re not going to freeze. It’s no worse than camping — better, really, since you have the love seat — and I know you’ve gone camping plenty of times.”

Sister: “But… I… You… But…!”

Me: “Your sister and I visited the housing office after class today. We have a print-out of available places you can start looking at first thing in the morning. Give me a call if it gets colder than the forecast said; I’ll bring you out a spare blanket. Good night.”

(I let myself in, and then lock the door behind me.)

Sister: *starts pounding on the door and ringing the bell* “Let me in! You can’t do this!”

(Hearing the noise, everyone starts coming into the living room to see what’s going on.)

Me: “[Roommate #1]’s sister will be sleeping on the love seat out back tonight, after which she’ll be finding an apartment of her own. Don’t worry; I’ve loaned her a sleeping bag.”

Roommate #2: *starts laughing* “Oh, that’s genius! She’s not going to freeze though, is she?”

Me: “We’ve all been sleeping with our windows open, trying to catch a breeze. It’s hot out; she’s more likely to sweat to death than freeze. In fact, she’ll probably have more pleasant temperatures than any of us.”

Roommate #2: “Oh, good. Night, then!”

(Everyone else goes back to bed as well, and the sister soon gives up yelling, ringing, and knocking. She then tries to sneak in the back door, but finds it locked tight. Then she tries calling her sister repeatedly.)

Roommate #1: *looking at her phone* “What do I do?”

(I hold out my hand, and she gives me the phone. I answer:)

Me: “[Roommate #1]’s phone, [My Name] speaking.”

Sister: “Let me in, you [insult]!”

Me: “Nope. Not happening. Have a nice night.”

Sister: *screams and hangs up, finally going around back and flinging herself on the loveseat*

(The next morning, I handed her the sheaf of papers with apartment listings. She had a place of her own within an hour. Go figure.)

 

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