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Employee Frozen In Place

, , , , , | Working | March 5, 2018

I am at a popular state-wide gas station chain to buy myself a drink for the road. The store is pretty busy, but there is only one cashier working. By the time I pick my drink out and get in line to pay, the line is five or six people long. The person at the front of the line has a fairly large order.

The cashier repeatedly presses the button to call for her coworker to come get on a register. My dad works in one of these gas stations, so I know that this releases a very long, loud buzzing sound in the stock area. It’s pretty hard to miss, and you can even hear it a bit in the front of the store. Still, there’s no sign of the other employee. At this point, the cashier and customers are starting to go from frustrated to concerned.

Finally, the cashier pulls out her phone and tries calling the employee, but there’s still no response. At this point, a customer ducks out of line and charges into the freezer — an employee-only area, but it’s not like anyone is going to stop him — and emerges a few seconds later, fuming and dragging the second employee by the arm. The cashier proceeds to yell at him. It turns out he was listening to music with earbuds in. Why he didn’t answer his phone, he doesn’t say.

The line splits in half, and I end up second or so in line at the new cashier’s register. He doesn’t speak to any customer and, once my drink is in its bag, proceeds to throw it at me. Too exhausted to do anything about it, I turn around and leave.

As I walk out the door, I hear the guy say, “Can I go back to the freezer, now?” My only regret is that I didn’t stick around to hear the other cashier’s response. A week later, a “Help Wanted” sign showed up on their door… I wonder why!

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A Summary Four You

, , , , | Related | March 4, 2018

(I’ve just picked my four-year-old son up from preschool and he’s doing what he usually does when I get him: telling me whatever random thoughts cross his mind.)

Son: “I eat, I play, I go potty, and I rest. That’s four! Four things.”

Me: “I have to admit; that’s a fair summary of your day.”

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Chuck A Toupee On A Whale And Call Him President

, , , , | Friendly | February 25, 2018

(We’re electing the president of our theater-based teen group. Members are writing their votes on papers and dropping them in the advisor’s hat. As one girl drops her vote in:)

Advisor: “You’re voting for a whale?”

Girl #1: “No! The person I’m voting for is on the other side. I just drew a whale on the other side because… I was bored.”

Me: “I mean, I’d vote for a whale for president.”

Girl #2: “Yeah, a whale would be a fantastic president. We could even promote our group that way. ‘Funds go to support the whales!’”

Me: “The only question is: what kind of whale? Beluga or humpback?”

Girl #2: “Beluga. Obviously. Geez, a humpback whale as president? What were you thinking?”

Me: “Good point. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

(The whale didn’t win.)

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Really Feline This Motherhood Thing

, , , , | Related | February 21, 2018

(I’m sitting across the dining room table from my mom. She is attempting to read the coupons page of a newspaper, laid out across the table in front of her, when our cat comes over and lays down on it. After a few moments:)

Mom: “Pet him. Try to get him to come over to you.”

(I reach over and pet him. He flinches. I start tapping on the table in front of me, trying to attract him.)

Me: “Come here, [Cat].”

(He doesn’t move or even look at me. After doing this for a little bit, I reach over and grab another page of the newspaper and lay it out in front me, then start tapping it.)

Me: “Look: you can lay here.”

(He still doesn’t move or even look at me.)

Mom: “Open it. Pretend to read it.”

(I do. Less than five seconds later, he stands up and walks over to lay down on my newspaper.)

Me: “That should not have worked.” *to the cat* “You are spoiled, you know that?”

Mom: “I think I’ve proven my skill as a mom.”

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Warning: This Will Be Adorable

, , , , | Related | February 15, 2018

(My four-year-old son comes up to me with a fast food toy still in its sealed baggie.)

Son: “Need scissors, Daddy! Need scissors! Open this!”

Me: “Give it here.”

Son: “No, I open it. Need scissors!”

Me: “You’re not getting scissors. If you want it open, I’m opening it.”

Son: *pause* “Okay, here you go.” *hands it over*

(I go to pull it open and he stops me.)

Son: “You be careful, Daddy!” *points at the “Warning: Choking hazard” label on the back* “It say warning, so you be careful with that!”

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