The Power Of The Automotive Industry

, , , , , | Friendly | November 30, 2017

(One of my housemates has had to leave his car at the shop for repairs. The next day on my way to run errands I find him in the kitchen, slumped over our breakfast table.)

Housemate: “Hey, can you go grab me some coffee, if you’re going out? I’m getting withdrawal symptoms, bad!”

Me: “Uh, I fear I’m going in the opposite direction from the coffee place.”

Housemate: “Well, can you make a detour first? Just drive to the coffee place, grab me my usual order, and come back here?”

Me: “May I ask why you can’t go to the coffee place, seeing as it’s just down the road?”

Housemate: “I don’t have my car! How am I supposed to get there?”

Me: “Uh, by walking?”

(My housemate looks as if this is a major revelation.)

Me: “It’s literally two minutes to get there and back on foot. I’ve done it multiple times!”

Housemate: “F***! I never thought of that!”

(I returned later to see him sipping a huge cup of coffee. He was still amazed that he was able to acquire it without the use of his car.)

Can’t March To The Beat Of That Drum

, , , , , , , | Friendly | November 30, 2017

(I go by myself to a rock show at a well-known venue, and I am having what seems to be a friendly conversation with strangers before it starts.)

Stranger #1: “Do you play anything?”

Me: “Guitar and piano, a bit.”

Stranger #1: “Always wanted to learn those ones. I just did saxophone in high school.”

Stranger #2: *butting in, but it’s cool* “I did drums in high school then came back to it in my 20s. Been in love with it for years, now.”

Stranger #1: “That’s awesome! What made you pick it back up again?”

Stranger #2: “My love for John Bonham! John Bonham was the best drummer that ever lived; I can’t get enough of listening to him and he inspires me so much!”

Me: “Bonham, eh? I’ve heard so many people rave about him; since you’re clearly a big fan, and a drummer, can I ask a question about him that I’ve had burning for years?”

Stranger #2: “Okay.”

Me: *being so careful to be polite and respectful* “Can you explain to me what it was about Bonham’s drumming that grabs you? Can you specify the things he did that stand out? I only ask because I’ve listened to Zeppelin a lot and, while he’s good, of course, my untrained ear can’t really figure out what it is about his playing that sets him apart. I’m no slouch musically, but I’m also not a drummer.”

Stranger #2: *angry silence, glowering at me*

Me: “I’m asking completely seriously, because I want to understand! I know I’m missing something when I listen to him, and I’m just asking you, since you seem to be someone who gets it.”

Stranger #2: *still silence, clearly offended*

Me: “Please, I’m really not trying to argue or anything; I’m asking completely seriously.”

Stranger #2: *argumentatively* “He’d start playing for hours before their concerts, and then afterwards the other guys would go party, and he’d keep playing for hours!”

Me: “Well… That’s dedication to his craft, which is good. But I mean more like technique, etc.”

Stranger #2: *angrier still, storms off with her couple friends*

Stranger #1: *awkwardly moves away from me and doesn’t interact with me the rest of the night*

(I’ve since found other drummers and online sources that do a good job of explaining rock drums prior to Bonham and how his style changed rock drums for pretty much everyone afterwards. No one else I talked to was offended that I asked.)

Unfiltered Story #101063

, , | Unfiltered | November 28, 2017

(My aunt and uncle live nearby, once in a while they treat me to dinner because I’m a broke college student. My aunt happens to sell a rather expensive piece of her art, we go out to celebrate at 5 star restaurant in town where dishes start at $40. Everything seemed fine up until after we ordered, we were sat quickly and given drinks quickly but it all went downhill from there. Nearly 40 minutes passed without seeing our waiter or food, my uncle goes to the host stand. She flagged down our waiter back to our table.)

Waiter: “I’m so sorry, I forgot to put your order in!”
My uncle: “Oh…well-”
Waiter: “I’ll go put it in right now!”
(We all figure it’ll go up from here and decide to stick it out, but after 45 minutes we flag our waiter down again.)
Waiter: “Oh did you want to look at the dessert menu or would you like me to bring you the check?”
My aunt: “Uh we never even go our food!”
My uncle: “We’re done, we’re leaving.”
Waiter: “No don’t leave I’ll put your order in now!”

Thank You For Your Pretty Good Service

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 27, 2017

(I am at the grocery store, talking to a nice older lady cashier, with a young man of about 20 behind me. I am eighteen at the time and I’m in the Navy. I’m in civvies and wearing makeup. We are right next to the naval base and you can hear jets flying overhead.)

Cashier: “Hear that? That’s the sound of freedom!”

Me: *laughing* Well, there are plenty of flights scheduled today, so you’ll be hearing plenty of freedom.”

Cashier: “Oh! You’re in the Navy? I’m so proud of you, dear.”

(The cashier starts talking about her son in the Navy. Then, the man behind me speaks up.)

Man: “You can’t be in the Navy! You’re too pretty.”

Me: *weak laugh* “Well, I am.”

Man: “No, seriously, they don’t let pretty girls in the military because they won’t get married. Especially young ones like you. Such a waste in that ugly uniform.”

(I’m starting to get pretty mad, when the cashier starts laying into him for several minutes about his blatant sexism and lack of respect. He looks beyond embarrassed.)

Cashier: *as I’m leaving* “Remember, young lady: bravery doesn’t have a face.”

(It made my day to hear this, because I’m quite proud of my uniform, and it really irritated me that this man thought my career worth was based on my looks.)

The Father Of All Fan-Baiting

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 27, 2017

(In college, my dad worked with the football team but didn’t play. However, he and his coworkers were able to get official jerseys, so long as they didn’t use numbers any of the players had. Shortly after Dad graduated, the number Dad happened to pick was used by a player who was very good and went on to play in the NFL. About thirty years after that, my teenage brother is attending a game at the same college and wears Dad’s jersey to show support for the team. It’s important to note that the famous player is black and my family is white.)

Older Fan: *to my brother* “Hey, kid, do you even know whose number that is on your jersey?”

Brother: *knowing full well who the famous player is, but not wanting to be baited into arguing about who’s the better fan* “Yeah, it’s my dad’s.”

Older Fan: *taken aback* “[Famous Black Player] is your dad?!”

(My brother just kept walking, leaving the confused fan behind.)