it's a building

Mar. 27th, 2017 03:47 pm
twistedchick: General Leia in The Force Awakens (Default)
[personal profile] twistedchick
When I hear someone say, "The White House says..." I don't buy it. Not because someone who is temporarily in that structure might or might not say whatever it is, but because what they're saying should not always have the psychological weight -- the assumed gravitas -- it acquires from being said from within that place.

What is that place? A building, constructed by slave labor from wood and stone and glass, built to be impressive but also built to be a public official's private home. It has had laundry hung indoors from lines stretched across meeting rooms when the weather was wet and the sheets *had* to get dry. (The weather can be wet in that particular part of downtown in summer more often than elsewhere; it has to do with land contours, prevailing winds, and the affinity of humidity for places near major waterways -- the Potomac, the Tidal Basin, even all those reflecting pools. Thunderstorms that turn the sky purple-black can come up out of nowhere sometimes, and afterward it's still as humid as before.)

It's been rebuilt and reworked every few years, sometimes by necessity; Harry Truman's beloved piano was heavy enough that it nearly fell through the floor of the room it was in (damp rot, anyone?) Also, it was rebuilt from the original pale yellow structure after the War of 1812, of which it was a casualty. There is a swimming pool, and a bowling alley, a cafeteria and a catering center. There are guest rooms and historical rooms where previous occupants said or did things. There are public and private areas in a building that is, at least in a titular way, public.

It is just a building. Those who say things, all of them, any of the things, could be out on the lawn instead of in the Oval Office with the blue rug and the changeable eagle (yes, characters on "The West Wing", I do check to see which way it's facing). They could be outdoors under the cover of the portico. They could be in the so-called War Room or the hyperconnected command center downstairs. They could be in the bunker underneath the house itself -- what a message that would make!

The White House does not say anything. Neither does its West Wing, regardless of the TV series. Neither does the Senate wing of the Capitol, or the House wing. Neither do the Senate or House office buildings, whose longer formal names I forget.

The only people who let buildings do their talking, or try to, are ones who don't have the nerve to take credit for their own words. It's a political maneuver, to give them deniability. It's also dishonest.

The White House doesn't say a damn thing. Remember that, the next time some bloviating newscaster alleges that it does. If it did, it might say something entirely different from what the current occupants and the officials and anyone else might expect. But that would not make the news, would it?

Time To Rent Him A New One

Mar. 27th, 2017 07:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Right

Apartment Complex | Washington, DC, USA

(I own a couple of rental properties in DC. One of them is available for rent and I set up showings for it. Valuing my time, I often set up several appointments around the same time, if possible, so that I don’t have to make numerous trips to the property to show it to just one person. On this (weekend) day, I have scheduled 8 back-to-back showings, and my last appointment of the day is late, without calling/texting/emailing to say he’s running behind. After waiting 30 minutes past his appointment time, I go to leave. Walking out of the building and finding a young man sitting on the front stairs, surfing the Internet on his phone.)

Me: “Hi! Do you live in the building? I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

Young Man: “No, I’m waiting for this b**** of a landlord to come out and meet me. I’ve been sitting here for five minutes!”

Me: “Oh, well, only a couple of the units are rentals, and I have most everyone’s phone number. Maybe she’s not picking up your call because she got distracted. If you tell me who it is, I’ll try her, or can go in and knock on the door.”

Young Man: “I didn’t CALL her; she should know I’m waiting for her! She should have been sitting out here to greet me! She must not want to rent her property that badly!”

Me: “Well, it’s a little cool and it’s been raining off and on today, so she’s probably inside waiting. Maybe you should try calling her, or tell me who she is and I’ll call her.”

Young Man: “Ugh, fine, it’s [My Name] in [my unit number]. Tell her to get down here fast or I’m leaving.”

Me: “Well, hello, [Young Man], I’m [My Name], owner of [My Unit]. I’ve been sitting upstairs waiting for the last half hour for you to call, text, or email me that you’re here for your appointment, as I instructed you to do when you got to the front door. Seeing as you admitted you’ve been waiting for only five minutes, it’s lucky I caught you before I left. Would you still like to see the unit?”

Young Man: “I suppose, but you should have come down and checked to see if I was here. My phone could have died or something.”

Me: “I did, twice. Since you only showed up five minutes ago, you weren’t here when I did check. Right this way to the unit.”

(I show him in and he makes a big show of sniffing every time he walks into a room or looks at an appliance/fixture. After looking around for about ten minutes, he comes back into the living room where I’m waiting to “talk business.”)

Young Man: “Well, I guess this will do as a temporary space. It’s extremely run down and I figure everything will break in six months from what I’ve seen. Because of that, I want to negotiate the rent, starting at [$400/month less than my asking price] and get the utilities included due to the inefficient appliances. I also won’t sign a lease longer than six months.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way. All of the appliances in this unit are energy star and less than five years old, and the basics like the furnace, air conditioner, and water heater are all less than ten years old and were fully serviced in the last six months and given a clean bill of health, with a few minor repairs which I gladly paid to have completed. If you had bothered to ask before assuming, I would have told you that. Since you feel my terms are unreasonable, I guess this isn’t the apartment for you. Thank you for your time looking at it. I’ll show you out.”

Young Man: “WAIT! Don’t you want to rent this place? No one would pay what you want for this s***! I’m the only chance you have of getting a tenant. You should negotiate with me so that you don’t lose money!”

(I take the five completed applications from the other prospects who have viewed the apartment that day, with application fee checks clipped to them, out of my bag and plop them on the table.)

Me: “I don’t need to negotiate with you. I have five people who have applied for this apartment TODAY, plus nearly the same number from yesterday. For the record, I’ve been renting this place to a friend, at the same rent I’m asking now, for the last three years and he’s ONLY moving out because he’s finally buying his own place… He LOVES this apartment. I don’t know where you came from, but this is what you get for the rent I’m asking here, and, honestly, you usually get a little less because I take good care of this place, including being fully, legally licensed to rent.” *gestures to the rental license mounted on the wall* “Most rentals at this price point are illegal death traps. So, again, I’m sorry that you feel I’m trying to rip you off, but I’ll show you out now and I wish you good luck in your home search.”

Young Man: “Oh, crap… Um… sorry. I thought I could play hardball and get a better deal. Will you still take my application? I mean, I still think utilities should be included, but I can pay the rent you want – or, at least close to it. Please?”

Me: “You showed up almost a half hour late to your appointment, complained because you didn’t follow my instructions to get in while giving me a sorry excuse for why you ‘might’ not have been able to do so, and then insulted me and my property. I really don’t think this will work out. Sorry, but let me show you out.”

(He started screaming to the point that the downstairs neighbors — two big dudes I am friends with because I also live in the neighborhood and see them around — came running upstairs to see what is wrong. I gratefully threw the door open when they started pounding on it and saying “this is Neighbors #1 and #2; is everything okay?”. I told them what was going on, and they physically tossed the dude out of the building. Unfortunate as it was, I now make sure that someone else is with me while conducting tours/open houses at my properties, and only give ten minutes grace for late appointments unless they contact me to tell me they’ll be later than that.)

The post Time To Rent Him A New One appeared first on Funny & Stupid Customer Stories - Not Always Right.

Grilling You About The Cheese

Mar. 27th, 2017 07:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Right

Restaurant | USA

(I work as a cashier at a restaurant with good quality food for moderate prices. We have a meal deal where you pick two entree items in half portions, but you pay less than regular half or full-pricing for each item. Every price for every item is up on the huge menu board directly in front of the customer, so you can figure out exactly how much you’re going to be spending. It’s a little past the peak of lunchtime rush, and a woman with two kids comes in and places her order; getting two meal deals and one regular. I read her entire order back to her to make sure I got it correct. She confirms that it is.)

Me: “Okay, your total is $31.25.”

Customer: *sharply* “Excuse me?”

Me: *trying to keep a cheerful tone* “Your total for the order is $31.25.”

Customer: “That is absolutely ridiculous. I have to pay 31 dollars for this? That’s expensive!”

Me: “I know, ma’am, and I’m sorry. But, since you got two meal deals, it is cheaper than it would’ve been if you’d gotten the regular full portions. Would you like to change anything in your order before I ring it up, see if it makes it a little cheaper?”

Customer: *sighing heavily* “No, it’s… ugh, it’s fine. Just swipe my card. Ugh, this is ridiculous.”

(I swipe the customer’s card and give her a copy of her receipt to keep and another to sign off on. She blinks down at her receipt, up at the menu board, and then scowls at me.)

Customer: “Wait, those two grilled cheeses are $4.19 each.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, those are the ones you confirmed for your order before you paid.”

Customer: *sighing* “Okay, well, I wanted the cheaper ones. The $3.59 ones. Change them.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, I’m sorry about that. I’ll get a manager over and we can refund the $1.20 difference to your card.”

Customer: “Excuse me?! I only get a dollar and twenty cents back?”

Me: “Yes ma’am, there’s a 60 cent difference between [Grilled Cheese #1] and [Grilled Cheese #2]. You have two [Grilled Cheese #1]s on your order that you’d like to switch, so you’d be getting a dollar and twenty cents refunded to your credit card.”

Customer: “Are you kidding me? What’s the point of changing it if I only get a dollar and twenty cents back?! My order will still be 30 dollars! It’s almost not even worth getting the money back.”

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am, but the price difference is $1.20, so $1.20 is what you’ll be refunded.”

(Why this customer got so offended over a refund that anyone who can do basic math would be able to calculate is beyond me, but regardless, she got her $1.20 refunded, and complained about it the whole time.)

The post Grilling You About The Cheese appeared first on Funny & Stupid Customer Stories - Not Always Right.

Protecting Children From Themselves

Mar. 27th, 2017 07:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Related

Home | OK, USA

(My uncle is a very large, hairy man — picture the stereotypical biker. He has two sons, and the mother had left a long time ago. His oldest has hit middle school, and he starts to act like a little s***. My uncle takes away privileges when the kid acts out. One day he gets called down to the school and is met by Child Protection Services (CPS) and a cop.)

School Official: “[Uncle], your son has said you’ve been beating him, and not letting him have food. Is this true?”

Uncle: “What? No!”

(He looks at his son and sees him smirking. He’s mad at his dad because he took his game system away. The CPS and cop explain how they will need to do an investigation, etc. My uncle looks at his son, looks at himself, and figures, why fight it?)

Uncle: “Take him.”

Everyone: “What!”

Uncle: “If my son really feels abused there is no way a single dad who looks like me can win. Take him.”

(At this point the cop started to smile and gave my uncle a wink. He agreed with my uncle and they took my cousin and placed him with social services for three days. By the end of it my cousin was crying and confessed to the cops he lied because his dad took his gaming system and his friends said he should ‘get back’ at his dad. He returned home and nothing more was said. Cousin straightened up from then on and went on to med school.)

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A Dislocated Sense Of The Problem

Mar. 27th, 2017 07:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Learning

Community College | Annandale, VA, USA

(I take an anatomy course at a local community college. I’d been on campus without anything to eat since 8 am, and my anatomy lab is from 7-10 pm. It’s about 8 pm when we’re pricking our fingers to test our blood types and some other blood test that I can’t remember. I successfully test my blood type, and then prick my finger again for the second test. Before being able to read the results, I start feeling dizzy.)

Me: “Hey, [Lab Partner]. I’m getting dizzy so I’m gonna put my head between my knees.”

Lab Partner: “Okay. Are you sure you’re okay?”

(I pass out, fall off the tall lab stool, and hit my head on the way down. I wake up with half the class surrounding me and a classmate, who I recognize as one of the students who is a current certified nursing assistant (CNA), trying to turn me over, yanking on my shoulder.)

Lab Partner: “Let go of her!”

CNA: “She’s having a seizure! I have to get her in the right position!”

Me: “Ow! That hurts! Let go of me. I’m not having a seizure!”

CNA: “Yes, you are!”

Other Classmate: “She just fell. She’s waking up. Let her go.”

Me: “That’s not even how you care for someone who’s having a seizure!”

(I yank away from the CNA, push her aside, and start to sit up.)

Professor: “[My Name], are you okay?”

Me: “I just passed out. I think I hit my head, but I’m okay.”

Professor: “Someone get my regular chair for her. I don’t want her sitting on one of these high stools again. Do you have any medical conditions that may have caused this? Diabetes, heart problems?”

Me: “No, I just didn’t have a chance to eat between classes today.”

Classmate: “I’ll take her to get something from the vending machines.”

(I got some food in me, waited about an hour while my professor watched me, and then slipped away and drove home. My professor looked up my home number in my file, and called me to check on me that night just after I’d gotten home, and explained to my dad what had happened and that I should be monitored for concussion. I did wind up having a minor concussion, but the real kicker is that the CNA classmate wound up dislocating my shoulder! I did not wind up pursuing a career in the medical field after that course.)

The post A Dislocated Sense Of The Problem appeared first on Funny & Interesting Student, Teacher, Parent, & Staff School Stories - Not Always Learning.


Mar. 27th, 2017 01:52 pm
ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
New game.  Do not read with mouth full.

Okay, everyone, roll for initiative ...

Afraid Of Getting Fired

Mar. 27th, 2017 05:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Learning

Elementary School | MO, USA

(I am in first grade. We have color slips that we have to change if we get into trouble. There are probably five colors before black, which means we get sent to the principal’s office. I have had my color changed to black more times than I can count, over very silly things. Usually it is for speaking without being called on, because I am a very impatient, energetic child and have a hard time keeping quiet when I know an answer. What begins happening more and more, though, is me having to change my colors for things that other students also did without being asked to change their colors. I am miserable… The teacher refuses to let me participate in the majority of interactive activities and even moves my desk to the corner of the room, away from everyone, facing the wall, because I am “too disruptive.” Any time we pass the first color slip, we had to have a form signed by our parents and brought back the next day. I go home nearly every single day with this pink paper. Eventually, I get so afraid of showing my parents, that I start throwing them away before I get home. After a few weeks of not bringing them back…)

Teacher: “[My Name], you have not brought any of your forms back. Explain, please.”

Me: *hesitantly* “I don’t give them to my mom and dad.”

Teacher: *glares daggers at me and scolds me in front of the class* “This is absolutely unacceptable. Not only am I sending you to the office, but you are no longer going to have recesses.”

(I want to cry, but not in front of my classmates, so I just sit down, red in the face. Later in the day, when it is time for recess, I start to go out with the rest of the class.)

Teacher: *stopping me as my classmates wait outside the door* No, [My Name], you’re waiting right here.”

Me: *confused, as kids in trouble usually just sit by the teachers* “But—”

Teacher: *interrupting me* “You are going to sit in the reading corner while we’re gone and you are going to stay there. You will not move, and if I come back and find that you have moved, you will spend the rest of the school year doing your work in the principal’s office. Understood?” *places me in the corner, on a bunch of pillows, without waiting for me to answer and ushers the class down the hallway*

(It took 30 minutes to get to the playground, have recess, and then come back. For those entire 30 minutes, I didn’t move. Once the class came back, I returned to my seat. This went on for several weeks until one day, the fire alarm goes off.)

Me: *still not moving from my spot, despite panicking about the alarm*

Teacher: *running into the room a couple minutes later, clearly out of sorts* “[My Name]!” *she grabs me by the hand and leads me out to the parking lot* “I’m so proud of you for not moving and staying where I asked you to stay. You did such a good job that I’m giving you back your recesses.”

(Thankfully, it was just a drill. I now know that she had been panicking over the fact she nearly got caught leaving a six-year-old child unattended in a dark, empty room, every day for over a month. I interacted with her a couple more times as I got older, and she still treated me like I was the bane of her existence, and I still to this day have no idea what I did that made her hate me so much. My parents unfortunately didn’t know about any of it because I was too young to realize how wrong everything actually was. I’ve since told them.)

The post Afraid Of Getting Fired appeared first on Funny & Interesting Student, Teacher, Parent, & Staff School Stories - Not Always Learning.

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Posted by Not Always Right

Restaurant | Stockholm, Sweden

(The restaurant I work in is a kind of upscale fast food one where we clear the tables ourselves. We also have a form of questions that we ask some guests to fill out on a tablet and as a thank you we treat them some coffee or tea. I approach two elderly women.)

Me: “Hi, was everything to your satisfaction?”

Them: “Hmm, yes, I guess.” *not looking at me*

Me: “Great! I was wondering if maybe you would like to answer a few questions about your experience with us? It will only take about a minute or two. And as a thank you–”

Elderly Woman #1: “No! I don’t want to do any of that! I don’t have time for s*** like that!”

Me: “Okay, thank you anyway; have a nice day.”

Elderly Woman #2: *as I’m leaving* “How rude! How dare she disturb us!”

(I approach a young pair, two tables down, and they’re more than happy to help me. As I’m explaining the tablet for them I see my coworker walking up to the women and clearing their table. Later while I’m preparing the couples’ coffee my coworker comes up to me.)

Coworker: “God, those ladies were so rude! They tried to get me to give them complimentary coffee on their meal and I told them the coffee wasn’t included, and they started cussing at me and calling me a b****.”

Me: “Yeah, I had a similar experience. Wanna help me bring these coffees over?”

Coworker: “Sure!”

(We walked over with the coffees and — very loudly — thanked the couple for their help and handed them their coffees right in front of the women, who looked very miffed about the entire thing. My coworker and I had a good laugh about it in the kitchen after.)

The post Survey Results Are In: You’re A B**** appeared first on Funny & Stupid Customer Stories - Not Always Right.

Coming To The Land Of Twenty

Mar. 27th, 2017 05:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Right

Department Store | Department Store

(I am working my first real shift at my new store. The coworker who is training me is pulled away to deal with another problem, leaving me alone for all of two minutes.)

Me: “Okay, your total is $28.67.”

(The customer hands over $20. I wait a couple seconds to see if she just needs time to find the $8.67 left. She just looks at me.)

Me: “$28.67, please.”

(Customer points at the bills in my hand.)

Me: “Yes, this comes to $20.”

Customer: “Yes. $20.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am… it is. Your total is $28.67.”

Customer: “Yes. $28. Is $20.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Is short. Eight short.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

(My manager comes around and asks what the problem is. I explain. She turns to the customer.)

Manager: “Ma’am, you’re $8.67 short. Unless you have another method of payment, I’m afraid we’ll have to take something off.”

Customer: “Oh. No want, then. Goodbye.”

(She picked up her purse and walked away without another word. The customers in line, my manager, and I all looked at each other before continuing on as usual.)

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Mortgages IRL, Because YOLO

Mar. 27th, 2017 05:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Related

Home | Norway

(My brother and his girlfriend have been living together for years, and have recently decided to move out of town to be closer to her family. I receive this text:)

Brother: “LOL, we bought an apartment.”

(Yes, my 27-year-old brother thought the proper response to buying an apartment was ‘LOL’.)

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Initial Orders

Mar. 28th, 2017 03:59 am
rix_scaedu: (Elf)
[personal profile] rix_scaedu
From [profile] kunama_wolf's prompt "What are the angels of the Third Swordlord up to, now that one of the deity's mortal paladins died protecting a Sister of Hasnor?" we have this piece which follows on from A Staff With A Knob On It.

Pharial had been summoned to the holy presence. Even for an angel of his rank and time in the Third Swordlord’s service it was a great privilege, a rare event for individuals among the Phalanxes of angels that served his holy master. Even more surprisingly, when he rose from his obeisance he found that he was almost alone with the god: the Choirmaster was absent and none of the Flight Generals were present. Clean, sparkling light filled the sanctum, and the Third Swordlord himself, Heraclaid by sacred name, stood on the other side of a large map table from both the entrance and Pharial. The only other angel present was one of much his own age who was also currently assigned to the care, guidance and support of their god’s paladins. Elekiel had brown wings that were permanently mottled from the effects of a vardbeast’s breath weapon that he’d survived during a battle of the Death War.

“I have summoned you here,” said Heraclaid in a quiet voice that Pharial felt throughout his being, “because my human servant, Sempleticus Lorax, has died in unusual circumstances.”

“I did not know him,” admitted Pharial humbly.

“I didn’t expect that you would, because he was on Elekiel’s roster,” Heraclaid answered quietly. He turned to the other angel, “Were you able to glean anything from his soul, Elekiel? From my point of view he was suddenly dead, and that’s all I have.”

“I don’t think he even saw me,” replied Elekiel carefully, “and neither did the priestess of Hasnor he was travelling with. From what I could tell, they could see and hear each other perfectly, but I and the angels of Hasnor who were there, four of them, couldn’t get a flicker of acknowledgement out of either of them. If I didn’t know it shouldn’t be possible, I’d say they were almost dissociated.”

“I know it happened in a temple of Hasnor, and that’s why I don’t know what happened,” admitted Heraclaid. “Pharial, Ordestia Prima is on your roster and she’s been praying to me about this. She’s there, she’s seen the bodies, and she and some religious of Hasnor’s seem to have found how the killer got in to the temple. Go there, talk to her, and find out what happened. If Hasnor decides not to let you enter his temple, then we will have to rely on her observations.”

“We have not, hitherto, been close, she and I,” admitted Pharial. “She has not required personal guidance or intervention from me – her mortal preceptors have been sufficient for her.”

“Ordestia Prima is a steady and steadfast soul,” agreed Heraclaid. “I should not like her to feel unappreciated or overlooked because she does not require as much cultivation as some of her fellows.”

Pharial bowed, chastened, and replied, “My lord, I will do my best to cultivate her acquaintance during our time together on this assignment.”

“Good,” said Heraclaid. “I’m glad we were able to cover this subject – I would not like to lose my little armoured lily because she became exhausted by a heart broken through unrequited love.”

The angel looked up, startled. “Unrequited love, my lord?”

“My paladins come to me from love, Pharial, and you are part of my response to that love. If you spend all your attention on others because she ‘doesn’t need you’, how will she know that her love is reciprocated? After all, she cannot hear me as I hear her.” The god smiled for a moment, then went on grimly, “I have already sent a messenger to Hasnor, asking his permission for you to enter the temple where Sempleticus died. Elekiel, I need you to return to the Hall of Judgement; see if you can make contact with his soul and find out what happened. Off with you both now, I have implications to consider.”

The two angels bowed and left their divine master considering a map of shifting and phasing elements that was too complex for an angel to understand.

twistedchick: General Leia in The Force Awakens (Default)
[personal profile] twistedchick
Finnish Weird an online journal of fiction and commentary by Finnish authors. ETA: the link has the English translation, so you need not brush up on language skills before reading.
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Posted by Not Always Right

Pizza | Thomasville, GA, USA

(I am a pizza delivery girl. There is this one nice old lady who orders three times a week. She lives out in the middle of nowhere and her house is always a pain to get to. She always tips the exact same $1.25. This delivery takes place the day before a hurricane came through and it’s not pretty outside. When I get to the house and knock on her door. I do not see her cat like I usually do.)

Customer: “Did you see my cat, dear?”

Me: “No, ma’am. I did not see him today. The weather isn’t great; he’s probably just scared and hiding.”

Customer: “All right. just keep an eye out as you back out of here.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I will.”

(I watched for the cat. Never saw that cat. It was incredibly busy that day and I was the only driver scheduled as no one else was willing to brave the weather and come in. Every time I walked in the store, I walked out with no less than three deliveries. The next time I walked in my manager told me about the lady calling asking if I stole her cat. I said no I did not see that cat. I went on four more deliveries. I came back about 30 minutes later, the manager telling me she called three more times, demanding he check my car for the cat that she just knew I stole. This crazy lady called seven times in all. The last time she swore she would never order again. After three days my general manager called her to ask if she found her cat. She had. It ran off because of the storm. She offered no apology to me, hung up on my manager, and has never ordered again.  It’s now a running joke anytime my three cats leave paw prints on my car that I must have stolen that cat or if someone doesn’t tip that I will steal their pet. Everyone at work got a kick of this one.)

The post It’s The Anchovy Pizza That Gave It Away appeared first on Funny & Stupid Customer Stories - Not Always Right.

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Posted by Not Always Right

Vet | Portland, OR, USA

(A client shows up for an appointment to remove ticks from her dog.)

Coworker: “How many ticks does he have and where are they?

Client: “Six that we’ve counted so far.”

Coworker: “Wow! That’s a lot. Where have you been lately?”

Client: “I know, it’s really weird. They’re on his belly and they’re all symmetrical.”

(The client starts to roll dog over to show us belly. Stunned silence follows.)

Coworker: “Nipple, nipple, nipple, nipple, nipple, nipple!”

Client: “But he’s a boy!”

Coworker: “You have nipples, don’t you, sir?”


Glad They Nipped That One In The Bud

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Tipped To Be A Good Christmas

Mar. 27th, 2017 03:00 pm
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Posted by Not Always Hopeless

(I work for a popular chain pizza place as a delivery expert. It’s a week before Christmas and money is extremely tight. My husband and I have three kids between us and we don’t know how or if we are getting them gifts this year. We don’t even have a tree yet. I’m delivering to a frequent customer but this is my first time getting her order. When she opens the door she has three Christmas bows stuck to her shirt.)

Me: “Hello, Mrs. [Customer]. Doing some gift wrapping?”

Customer: *noticing the bows* “Oops, forgot they were there. How much do I owe you?”

Me: “$22.75… Don’t worry about the bows. I’m hoping that I make good money today so I can finally go get some things for my boys.” *note I was just making small talk*

Customer: “You have kids… How many?”

Me: “Between the two of us we have three, ages 18, 17, and 2. They are a handful but darn it we love them.”

(Cue laughter from both of us.)

Customer: “Well, here you go, and a $10 tip for you!”

Me: “Ma’am, thank you. You are my first and possibly only tip today and this is going straight to the boys’ Christmas.”

Customer: “Hey, hold right there a moment. I’m going to be right back.”

Me: *confused* “Okay… I won’t move.”

(She runs into the house and is gone three minutes tops. She comes running back, out of breath.)

Customer: “Here I want you to make the boys Christmas great. Promise me it goes to them and you can take this extra $20 for them, too.”

Me: *in tears at this point* “Ma’am, you have no idea how much you just made my whole year.”

Customer: “I do know how much I made your year, young lady. I raised four kids and worked my butt off for minimum wage and several times I was a delivery driver or waitress. I just finally put my youngest through college. I just want you to make Christmas a pleasant time for the kids so they have great memories when they go to college and leave you like they left me.”

Me: *still crying* “Can I hug you?”

(Laughing at my reaction, the customer hugged me and assured me I will make it through this rough patch. She told me to kiss my boys everyday and love them even when I don’t like them. The amazing woman gave me a $30 tip on a $22 order and I bought each of the boys something special with it that night. Thank you, kind woman! I hope I can help a struggling mother one day the way you helped me.)

The post Tipped To Be A Good Christmas appeared first on Feel Good Stories - Not Always Hopeless.

Toying With The Lesson

Mar. 27th, 2017 03:00 pm
[syndicated profile] notalwaysrelated_feed

Posted by Not Always Related

Home | USA

(My grandmother is visiting my parents for a few weeks. There is a small cart in which my mom keeps a selection of small toys in for my kids to play with. I have to use it briefly when I go over there one day so I just dump the toys on the couch. When I am done I barely have a chance to start putting them away before my grandmother tells my two-year-old to clean up the mess.)

Grandma: “Put the toys away.”

(My daughter starts happily putting stuff in, and I just start cleaning up my mess along with her.)

Me: “Thank you for helping Mommy.”

(I dump a larger group of toys in.)

Grandma: “[My Name], I told her to put the toys away.”

Me: “But I’m the one that made the mess.”

Grandma: “I’m trying to teach her something.”

Me: “But, I made the mess.”

Grandma: “Well, she doesn’t know that. It won’t make a difference to her.”

(Luckily, we finished quickly, so further discussion was moot, anyway.)

The post Toying With The Lesson appeared first on Funny & Unusual Family Stories - Not Always Related.

No Hang Ups About No Hang Ups

Mar. 27th, 2017 03:00 pm
[syndicated profile] notalwaysfriendly_feed

Posted by Not Always Friendly

Phone | Houston, TX, USA

(My friend and I are shooting the breeze when we hit a lull in the conversation.)

Friend: “Well, I need to finish making dinner, so I’ll talk to you later.”

Me: “Okay, bye!”

(About thirty seconds go by, and neither of us have hung up.)

Friend: “Uh… I’m in the middle of cooking, so you’re going to have to hang up.”

Me: “Well, I’m in the middle of changing a poopy diaper, so it’s going to be a minute.”

Friend: *laughing* “All right, well, I guess we’re staying on the phone, then!”

(Eventually, one of us had a free (clean) hand and we got off the phone!)

The post No Hang Ups About No Hang Ups appeared first on Funny & Unusual Friend & Stranger Stories - Not Always Friendly.

Special Treatment Put To The Test

Mar. 27th, 2017 03:00 pm
[syndicated profile] notalwayslearning_feed

Posted by Not Always Learning

College & University | USA

My mom is legally blind and has been so for over 20 years. This has prevented her from doing many things in life because she didn’t believe that she could. However, after hardships that include leaving a toxic marriage, she decides it was time to take charge of her life by going back to college, getting a very good job, and living the way she wants to live.

To participate in her classes, however, she has to carry around a heavy machine and computer that takes a while to set up so that she can read, write, and see what the professors put up on the board. She can see just enough to make out shapes and colors. To read, she has to pick apart each and every letter/word — and sometimes, for the sake of time, scan and guess.

Because of this it takes her twice as long as the average student to complete most of her work. This is barely a problem for the tests and exams that take a couple hours, although she is usually one of the last people to complete them.

Within the first month of her first semester, her foreign language professor strolls in and passes out a slip of paper, telling the class they have five minutes to complete the quiz.

My mom, barely able to even read the questions in such a short amount of time, struggles to set up her necessary equipment quickly only for the machine to not connect to her computer. She barely even gets to look at the quiz when time is up, and she asks if she can have more time or do the quiz after class.

The professor basically told her, “Too bad. If you can’t do the work in the time given then you don’t need to be here. I can’t stop the class just for you.”

My mom reported this to her counselor, who assured her that this kind of behavior wasn’t allowed and that it would be dealt with. During a meeting with the school board, the professor even tried to argue that my mom shouldn’t get “special treatment” for her disability and “just needed to do the work.”

My mom doesn’t want special treatment. She wants to learn and do the work and this professor was not letting her.

Luckily for her, her university has no patience for discrimination. “Tests and quizzes are supposed to help show what the students learned. Putting them on a timer teaches nothing.”

The professor, under threat of losing their job, and after attending many meetings with the disability counselors and the school board, fixes their attitude.

Time skip to my mom’s second semester. Different classes, different professors. But she still has to deal with the occasional “special treatment” type comments. It’s not often, and comes from classmates, but it’s still annoying.

Just last week my mom came home laughing and tells me that other than she and two students, her entire class of 20-30 students were FAILING for not turning in their work and begged for extensions on most, if not all, their assignments (which they had weeks to do and turn in). They offered loads of cryptic excuses that ranged from “I didn’t have enough time,” to “I’ve been busy.” The professor, at a loss, granted the extensions.

“Most of these kids are young twenty-something-year-olds bragging about all the parties and events they go to,” my mom says. “And yet they get extensions for work they’ve had weeks to turn in? I ‘get special treatment,’ my a**!”

The post Special Treatment Put To The Test appeared first on Funny & Interesting Student, Teacher, Parent, & Staff School Stories - Not Always Learning.

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