Unfiltered Story #27882

Indiana, USA | Unfiltered | October 10, 2015

(I was walking in between classes when another student, who is a rather large man, approaches me with his hands in his pockets.)

Man: *Speaking in third person* “The man suddenly threw confetti at the woman. HUFOOSH!” *throws up his empty hands at me*

Me: *I instinctively recoil* JESUS! …Wait what?

Man: “But there was no confetti in sight!” *Leaves*

Me: *Stands there in confusion about what just happened.*

Unfiltered Story #56608

Iceland | Unfiltered | October 10, 2015

At the time of this happening, I had been working 80% position (32 hours a week) for 3 years, and some months prior I had asked for it to be raised to 100% (40 hours/week) but been denied on the grounds that they could not “make that kind of commitment right now”. So I decided to use part of my time to attend a university course, and since I didn’t always know where I stood with my boss, I went first to the director to make sure it was okay for me to be away for an afternoon every week. The director assured me that as long as I turned in my weekly hours during the daytime, it was entirely up to me to decide how I chose to spend my free time.

Early in September, entering my boss’s office:

Me: Hi [boss], I wanted to let you know that I signed up for a course at the university, which is taught on Mondays, and since I only work 32 hours a week, I will be out of office after 1 o’clock on Monday afternoons this semester. I already spoke to [director] and he said there was no problem with that. I just wanted to let you know, so people in [our small division] would not be booking meetings after 1 o’clock on Mondays, unless absolutely necessary. In that case, I could skip class.

Boss: Oh…? Okay, so you’ll be off on Mondays after 1 o’clock. For how long? How many weeks?

Me: …uh… Until December…

Boss: Until December?! But how will you manage that?!

Me: Well, if I arrive between 8:30 and 9 in the mornings [as I had been doing], and leave at 4 o’clock [as I had also been doing], and work until 1 o’clock on Mondays, then that is about 34 hours a week…

Boss: *blank look*

Me: … which is more than 32 hours?

Boss: But we have [project] going on, which is very big as you know, and all the smaller regular ones… It’s going to be quite difficult if you plan to be away every Monday afternoon.

Me: …yeah…? …Uhm, are there any plans of increasing my work percentage, or…?

Boss (half laughing): No, no, there’s no money for that! But it’s all about the presence, your availability!

Me: … uh… okay…?

Then I sort of backed out of her office, not really understanding how she could justify asking me to be available for 36-38 hours a week, while only getting paid for 32.

The pun? The morning after she called me into her office, asking me to give her a plan on the hours I intended to be in the office – since I didn’t work full 40 hours – so that she and other coworkers would know about my availability.

I was so surprised that she didn’t seem to recall the information I had given her day before, I just said “sure” and walked out.

Unfiltered Story #47579

NY | Unfiltered | October 9, 2015

‎(Dad is playing Dead Island for the first time, he encounters the first zombies which you’re supposed to run from) Character on Radio: LOOK OUT, IT’S THE INFECTED! RUN!

(Dad is on level one)

Dad: (charges in at zombies punching wildly)

Me: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Dad: I’M TRYING TO GET TO THE DOOR, THE ZOMBIES ARE IN THE WAY!

Me: THE GUY SAID RUN!

Dad: I AM RUNNING!

(Dad’s character dies)

Dad: Aww.

Me: WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!

Dad: Trying to get past the zombies!

Me: THEY WERE ON LEVEL 50.

Dad: So?

Me: YOU’RE ON LEVEL 1.

Dad: …Oh.

Unfiltered Story #27881

Covington, Louisiana | Unfiltered | October 9, 2015

I worked at Picadilly Cafeteria for a while. The restaurant would take in people from a halfway house not far away, giving them a job to help get them on their feet. One of the men that worked with us was Robert. He was African American, but had some of the prettiest green eyes I have ever seen.
Our busiest days were always Sunday, when church would let out, we would have a line of people all the way out the door with nice, elder, white folks. I was working on the line this day. (You pointed to the food you wanted, I got it for you, you slid down the line to the next worker).
The door to the kitchen was behind me. On this particular Sunday, my older sister and Robert were daring each other to do crazy stuff.

Me: good morning, ma’am, what kind of bread can I get for you?

Elderly lady: I think I would like a wheat roll.

The door behind me swings open and Robert steps out, throws his hands in the air and yells “KILL WHITEY!” Before turning and running back into the kitchen.

I can hear my sister and Robert laughing hysterically.

I turn back to the elderly lady and see she has gone pale white and shaking just slightly. I smile and say: you wanted a roll, was it, ma’am?

She just stared at me before taking her tray and moving to the checker without getting her bread. I slid under the line and broke down laughing.

Unfiltered Story #56607

Kansas City, Kansas | Unfiltered | October 9, 2015

(It’s probably obvious that I am female-to-male transgender, and I know that some coworkers have been talking behind my back about it. I present as male and have finally grown facial hair, so there are fewer mistakes about my identity. I am also very flamboyant and open about my queer-ness. This might pertain to the following story with a very rude and inappropriate coworker:)

(Even though I am usually a cashier, they have me on the floor zoning that day. I am zoning the war zone that is cosmetics when my rude coworker walked by me. Note that I am hiding behind a shelf that you would have to walk through the area to see me, so he had to have been looking for me.)

Coworker: Hey! Doing some shopping?

Me: (looks into my basket that has misplaced items and my floor items which indicate I am working) No? I’m on the floor today. They have me zoning E’s and D’s today for closing.

Coworker: Oh! They have you doing the girly shit! (He laughs as he walks off.)

Me: Really!?

(Needless to say, I reported him as soon as I could.)

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