Health Care stories

I Have Twenty-Twenty Vision
GROCERY STORE | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 20, 2015
(I ring up a customer for two lemonades that are on sale at 2 for $5.)

Me: “All right, sir, your total is $5.39.”

Customer: *hands me a $50 bill*

Me: *checks its authenticity then puts it through and gets out his change* “All right, sir, your change is 61 cents and here’s twenty, forty, and four ones.”

(I ALWAYS count customer change back to them, especially when it is a large amount. The cashier behind me needs an override for a void, so I scan my supervisor card and turn back to him.)

Customer: “Excuse me; you only gave me $25. See, one of the twenties is actually a one.”

(I look at his hand and see a one where I definitely put a twenty before. I know he is trying to con me, so I put up my closed sign and ask the lady who was next to please go to the next cashier, who has no customers. I then page my coworker over and ask her to bring out the mobile money counter to count my till.)

Customer: “I’m not magician! Look, it’s not here!” *rolls up his sleeves*

Me: “Okay, sir, I just need to have my drawer counted first.”

Customer: “Well, how long is this going to take? Ten minutes?”

Me: “No, sir, only a minute or two.”

Customer: “Well, I’m going next door! I’ll be back for my twenty after you count that drawer!”

(Guess what? He never came back. And my till was spot on.)

Missed The Magic Of The Magic Kingdom
VIDEO RENTAL | RIGHT | MARCH 30, 2014
(A customer comes up to the till and hands me a bunch of DVDs. We have to up-sell, for obvious reasons.)

Me: “I see you are getting a bunch of Disney movies. Did you know the newest Harry Potter just came out? We do have some copies on the shelf.”

Customer: “I’m not even going to touch that anti-Christ movie! Any movie that delves into magic is Satan’s movies!”

(I look down at the movies being rented and finish the transaction with no more chit-chatting.)

Me: “Enjoy The Little Mermaid, and Beauty and the Beast! Have a nice day!”

Feeding The Baby And The Trolls
FESTIVAL | RIGHT | DECEMBER 13, 2013
(I work at a renaissance festival every year for the past 11 years. My son is about six months old. As there is no spot designated for breastfeeding, I just find somewhere quiet and out of the way. Two patrons notice me.)

Patron #1 : “Oh, my God. What are you doing!?”

Me: “Beg your pardon? Are you talking to me?”

Patron #1 : “Yes, of course! That is so nasty. You should be ashamed. That is absolutely disgusting, and sinful, and child abuse.”

Me: “Oh, please. I do not want to hear it. I’m feeding my son. There is nothing wrong with it and it’s my right to do it wherever I want.”

Patron #2 : “He’s right. You can’t do that here. Take that nasty s*** where it belongs. Get a f****** bottle.”

Me: “Leave me alone, please. I have a right by Kansas law to feed my son anywhere I want.”

Patron #1 : “Feed him with a bottle. That’s nasty and unsanitary. You’re abusing him by making him do that. Why you feminist b****es want to do that is beyond me. You’re so gross.”

Me: “Okay. I’m not going to defend myself to you. So, just keep moving guys.”

(One of my fellow festival participants comes along.)

Participant: “Excuse me, gentlemen. Is there something I can do to help you?”

Patron #2 : “Yeah. You can make her leave. No one wants to see that!”

Patron #1 : “You guys shouldn’t allow that in your festival. You’re promoting child abuse.”

Participant: “She actually has every right to be here as she’s a member of the faire, as is her baby. She has to feed him, gentlemen. If it bothers you, please feel free to look away from her.”

Patron #1 : “No. I want to sit on that bench right there and watch the gypsy’s dance. She needs to move.”

Me: “I’m not moving. If you want to watch the show and don’t want to sit by me, go sit somewhere else.”

(All the participants carry a walkie-talkie to contact security. This participant calls them.)

Patron #1 : “That’s right. You get someone here to make her leave.”

(I move my son to burp him and switch sides. One of the patrons grabs my arm and attempts to remove me himself. I have my hands full with my son. I spot a group of yeomen (royal guards) walking by and immediately start yelling for them.)

Me: “Insuth! Insuth!”

(This is a way to alert other performers that I am NOT acting, and that I am in actual danger. The yeomen run over and one of them draws his sword, which is very real.)

Yeoman: “I’d suggest you let the lady go. It appears she does not wish to accompany you.”

Patron #2 : “This little b**** needs to get the f*** out and we’re going to help show her the way.”

(The other three yeomen draw their swords as well.)

Yeoman: “I’m really thinking that is not going to happen. As it is, you gentlemen will be the ones leaving the grounds.”

Patron #1 : *sarcastically* “Oh, yeah. You and your fake weapons are gonna make us, right?”

(One of the yeomen steps up to the tree that is next to him and takes a swing at it. The sword embeds several inches before he pulls it back out to show it is very real and sharp.)

Yeoman: “Is that demonstration enough for you, sir? Would you like another?”

(Finally, security arrives and holds the patrons until two state troopers come and arrest them. The yeoman who helped me was given a pin of achievement, as he had not broken character during the entire ordeal. I made them muffins every morning for the rest of the festival and have done so every year since.)

It’s About To Get Dicey
CONVENTION | FRIENDLY | FEBRUARY 12, 2014
(I’m running three six-hour adventures as part of my volunteer duties at the 2006 A-Kon. The third adventure, when all the characters are advanced to high powered versions, has a player who tells me that it is her first time ever playing a tabletop RPG. Two of the players have played both the earlier adventures choosing the drider-girl and FBI agent each time, and another two are long-time friends of mine. The remaining two players are friends of the newbie.)

New Player: “Is it going to be hard?”

Me: “Not at all. The hardest part about this game is making the character. But I use pre-generated characters at conventions to avoid that.”

Agent Player: “And he’s been a really good GM. I love this story line.”

Drider Player: “We’ve been in both of his other events. And this is a really great system.”

New Player: “I’m just worried about keeping track of all the information.”

Me: “Well, I put info on all your dragon-girl’s powers and abilities on the sheet. I’ve done all the math already. Also, I have a copy of your character so I can make sure you’re good. This is basically the same as playing cops and robbers as a little kid. The rules and dice only exist for two reasons, really.”

New Player: “Oh? What are those?”

Me: “A: if there is a dispute they prevent things from falling to endless ‘No I’m not,’ ‘Yes you are’ arguments. And B: when you roll a high number it gives you an excuse to go ‘Ooooooh’ and say how cool and awesome you are.”

(The experienced players agree with me. Later, the new player decides to have her dragon girl do a strafing run on a bunch of banshee-like space invaders and she rolls a bunch of successive critical successes.)

Me: “Your fire breath cuts a line straight through the oncoming hordes and incinerates everyone it touches.”

New Player: “Ooooooooooh”

Table: “One of us! One of us! One of us!”

It’s Okay, Let’s Find Some Toddlers
PET STORE, USA | RIGHT | APRIL 7, 2009
Me: “How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I am looking for some dog food that is not animal tested.”

Me: “Ma’am, all food made for animals has to be tested by animals. It’s dog food!”

Customer: “You have got to be kidding me! Let me talk to your manager!”

Valet Delay
HOTEL | WORKING | MARCH 12, 2014
(A few friends and I take a road trip. We’re all young-ish professionals (late 20’s to early 30’s). We drive my friend’s very nice, but certainly not ‘exotic’ car. The hotel rooms are in my name. My friend drops his car at valet and we head up to our rooms. I discover I’ve forgotten something, and decide to drive to a store and buy a replacement so I can get the brand I prefer.)

Me: “Hi. Sorry to do this to you since we just dropped it off, but I need to get our car out.” *hand the valet the ticket*

Valet: “It’s really no problem, ma’am. Can I see your ID to confirm this is your room?”

(I show it and he checks it against the computer.)

Valet: “I’ll have it up front for you in just a minute.”

(He walks back into the valet office and I walk out to the front driveway of the hotel. A minute later, the valet appears out front, on foot.)

Valet: “Ma’am, could you please describe the car for me?”

Me: “Sure, it’s a black [make and model], it has a [State] vanity license plate that reads [license plate].”

Valet: “Uh, huh. And this is your car?”

Me: “Well, no, it belongs to the friend I’m sharing a room with. But it should be booked in under [room number], which is under my name. We can call my friend to confirm it’s okay I take it out, if you need to. He’s in the room.”

Valet: *taking a very snarky tone* “Uh, huh, sure. I think I’m going to need your ‘friend’ to come down here in person and confirm that.”

Me: “That seems like a bit of an inconvenience given that it’s booked in under my room number and I’ve shown you my ID, but I guess I can ask him to do that.”

(I pull out my phone to text him and ask him to come down.)

Valet: “Make sure to tell him to bring ID so I can confirm that car belongs to him.”

Me: “Um, okay. I know it’s a nice car, but this is also a luxury hotel, so it shouldn’t be all that surprising to have guests driving that kind of car. You have several nicer cars waiting to be parked right here in the driveway.”

(While I pace around waiting for my friend to come down, I notice two guys in suits standing a few feet away watching me very carefully. Slowly it’s dawning on me that the valet thinks I’m trying to steal the car. My friend arrives after a few minutes.)

Friend: “Hey, man. That’s my car she’s trying to take out. Here’s my driver’s license, as you requested. There are four of us on this trip, so could I just register their names with you so that any of us can take it out without me explicitly allowing it every time, or at least register that anyone in a room under her name has permission?”

(The valet nods, and the suited dudes walk up to us.)

Suit #1 : “Sir, please let me see that ID. Is the registration for the car on you or in the vehicle? You say you’re a guest here?”

(Unfortunately for all these guys, my friend is kind of a drama queen, and ALSO a young self-made entrepreneur.)

Friend: “You bet your ass I’m a guest here, but I’m also a GUEST of my friend here, who just happens to be a premiere member of your loyalty club and has three rooms under her name in your hotel right now. So I suggest you stop harassing us and start treating us like the valued guests we both are, before I have your jobs. If I gave my clients this kind of attitude after they’ve proven their bona fides TWICE, I’d never be able to afford that really nice car you won’t go and fetch for me. NOW!”

(We got the car, as well as a note in our room later indicating that the hotel had waived our parking fees for our stay for our troubles. The valet didn’t mess with us again, but he did miss out on some nice tips!)

Not Just Any Warm Crunchy Bread, Mind You
BIZARRE, RESTAURANT, USA | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 26, 2007
Me: “So, what can I get you?”

Hobo: “I’m pretty hungry so I guess I’ll have…” *stares at the menu*

(Three minutes later

Me: “I’ll come ba–”

Hobo: “I want some toast!”

Me: “Okay, toast is all. I’ll be right back.”

Hobo: “Yeah, that’s what I want… French toast.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Hobo: “I want some French toast. How much does that cost?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, we don’t have French toast.”

Hobo: “Then what do you have?”

Me: “Um… toast?”

Hobo: “Toast? What’s that?”

*long pause*

Me: “Warm, crunchy bread, sir.”

Hobo: “Yeah, bring me some white, warm, crunchy bread!”

Best Put That Topic To Bed
DEPARTMENT STORE | RIGHT | DECEMBER 14, 2012
(I work in the bedroom department. My job is to approach passers-by and ask about what they’re looking for. A couple I ask takes an interest in a headboard.)

Husband: “That’s no good for us, sweetie.”

Wife: “Why not?”

Husband: “Well…” *looks at me directly* “…there’s nowhere to put the handcuffs!”

(I worked in Ann Summers for a year, and whilst I was unemployed did paid reviews on BDSM and other such toys.)

Me: *smiling sweetly* “To be honest, the under-bed cuffing systems work so much better, especially the German makes. Plus they’re a lot more discreet. But if you’re infrequent users you may want to try bondage tape, it’s a lot cheaper in the long run, and it doesn’t like any visible marks or pulls on hair.”

Husband: *turns red*

Wife: *to her husband* “You had that coming.”

Check The Schedule Of Death
GIFT SHOP | WORKING | MARCH 20, 2014
(I am woken up at 4 am to hear that my last remaining grandfather, who lives out-of-state, has just died. Needless to say it has been a tearful morning. Since no one at work has made an updated phone list since I started, over a year ago, I have almost no current numbers and the people whose numbers I do have are on shift this day already. I help my mom schedule her flight, get her packed, and call the store owner at 6 am, notifying him of the issue and requesting that he might find a replacement for me since I have no other coworkers to call and cover me. He is generally unsympathetic but says he will work on finding someone to come in for me. I end up not hearing from him and have to come in. I miss driving my mom to the airport and am unable to write any last words I want read at my grandpa’s funeral since I will be unable to attend it. At work, I call the owner and again ask for updated phone numbers or a possible replacement.)

Owner: “You know you’re responsible for finding your own replacement.”

Me: “I understand, but as I’ve explained earlier this morning, I have NO current phone numbers for anyone who isn’t already scheduled. I don’t know where to find them, or if a list has been made and not handed out.”

Owner: “Fine. We made a list. It’s in the back room. Now go find yourself a replacement.”

Me: “Okay.”

Owner: “And do me one other favor while you’re at it.”

Me: “Yes?”

(At this point I’m frustrated, suspicious, and verging on tears.)

Owner: “You should have warned me that this could happen. You knew he was sick and was probably going to die soon. Next time, let me know about this kind of stuff.”

Me: “WHAT?! He’s been in and out of hospitals for YEARS now! He came back last night from the hospital and everyone thought he was okay!”

(I’m now crying too hard to continue saying anything.)

Owner: “Okay, okay. But just let me know next time.”

(I then hung up on him in a rage after some incoherent babbling and sobbing. If it wasn’t for how bad I would have felt to make my favorite coworker open the store alone, I would have quit and walked out that day! I did find a replacement who came in within the hour though. This was a big factor for me when I quit a few months later.)

Acting Like The Hair Apparent
MOVIE THEATER | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 21, 2012
(I am a black woman, and I have natural hair, meaning there are no chemicals in it to make it straight. The customer in this story is a white woman, and she is the only one in the lobby.)

Me: “Welcome to [movie theater]. Will that be all for you today?”

Customer: *looks at me disdainfully*

Me: “Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “Is all of that under your cap your hair?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Customer: “Why do you have so much?”

Me: “I’m Haitian. We typically have very thick hair.”

Customer: “Do you wash it?”

Me: “…Of course. I actually washed it last night.”

Customer: “It looks dirty. Why isn’t it straight? It looks unprofessional like that.”

Me: “My hair is naturally kinky. I’d have to get a relaxer for it to be—”

(Without warning, the customer reaches out, knocks my hat off, and shoves her hands all through my hair.)

Me: *swats her hands away* “EXCUSE YOU!”

Customer: “What? I wanted to see what it felt like.”

Me: “And you felt no need to ask me if it was okay to enter my body space?”

Customer: “Not really. I figured it was okay. I mean, it’s just hair. It’s not like it’s your boob or a body part or anything.”

Me: “It is, and I don’t care to be touched. Please don’t.”

Customer: “I was just curious!”

Me: “But you could have asked. I’m still a person.”

Customer: “No you’re not! You work here, and that means I get to do whatever I want to you because I’m paying you!”

Me: “Actually, [manager] pays me, and I will call him to escort you out if you don’t finish your transaction and return to your theater.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t want to buy anything now because you don’t want me to touch your hair!”

Me: *voids transaction* “Please leave your items on the counter and enjoy your show!”

(She walks off to a manager, calls me uppity, and demands I be reprimanded for refusing to let her touch me. The manager kicked her out without refund.)

Her Chances Of A Place Are Spoiled
BAD BEHAVIOR, BOSSES & OWNERS, CANADA, DAYCARE, INSTANT KARMA, ONTARIO, PARENTS/GUARDIANS | RIGHT | OCTOBER 22, 2013
(I am 17 years old, and I volunteer at a local daycare center. It is part of my job to interview people if they want to send their children here.)

Me: “Hello and welcome to [Daycare]. I understand you want to send [Child] here?”

Mother: “Yes, I’m thinking about doing so, if you can meet my standards.”

Me: “Okay, then—”

Mother: “Well, don’t be useless, child! Show me around!”

Me: “Well, here is the main playroom where the children—”

Mother: “What cleaning supplies do you use?”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Mother: “Don’t be daft, child! What cleaning supplies do you use here?”

Me: “We use [Brand #1].”

Mother: “Oh, I don’t like them. I demand that you use [Brand #2 ].”

Me: “Okay, I’ll tell my boss to see if she can ask the janitors to use [Brand #2 ] next time.”

Mother: “You had better, child!”

(At this point, her child begins climbing over the nap-time cribs.)

Me: “Oh, don’t do that, [Child]. You could fall and get hurt!”

Mother: “No, it’s okay, sweetie. I say you can.”

Me: “What? No, ma’am, she isn’t allowed to do that here.”

Mother: “You can’t tell someone else’s child what to do!”

Me: “When we’re watching her we get to set and enforce rules.”

Mother: “Well, if [Child] comes here, she will be allowed to climb over the couch.”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, ma’am. If [Child] comes here, she will be receiving no special treatment, and will not be climbing over the couch.”

Mother: “Yes, she will.”

Me: “No, she won’t.”

Mother: “YES, SHE WILL, BECAUSE I SAID SO!”

(The mother stamps her foot hard on ground. I am speechless.)

Mother: “Now, stupid child, give me the papers so that [Child] can be signed up. I request that you stay in another room from my little boy at all times!”

Me: “But, ma’am! It’s all one room!”

(My boss, who has been watching our exchange, comes over.)

Boss: “That’s okay, because you’re fired.”

Me: “Why? I’m really good with the kids! They like me! They do! And I work for $2.50 for every two hours without complaining! This job means everything to me! Please! I’ll work at $0.50 for every three hours! I need this job so much!”

Mother: “Serves you right for being a senseless b**** to these children.”

Boss: “No, [My Name], you are not fired. [Mother], you are.”

(The mother just stops and stands in awe.)

Boss: “[My Name] was being very helpful to you, and you kept cutting her off. Then, she enforced a big rule, and you told the child to continue to do so anyway. Then you called her a senseless b****, and laughed at her for begging to stay with these children. Now, get out before I call the police.”

Mother: “Fine! I don’t need this place! It sucks anyway!”

(The mother grabs her child and leaves. My boss turns to me.)

Boss: “Your next lunch break is on me, you’ve been promoted to $20 for every two hours, and you can go home now.”

Not Seeing The Problem Here
FLORIDA, FUNNY, HOLIDAYS, RESTAURANT, USA, WORDPLAY | RIGHT | AUGUST 28, 2012
(I am a server at a rather nice restaurant in the downtown area. It’s New Year’s Eve and a couple in their forties are enjoying the after-meal cocktails while waiting for the midnight fireworks.)

Me: “How are the drinks?”

Customer: “Great, thanks.”

Me: “Anything else that I can get for you at the moment?”

Customer: “I’m fine.”

Customer’s Wife: “I’ll have another glass of wine, please.”

Me: “No problem at all—”

Customer: “You know, I really hate people that use that term ‘No problem.’ It’s as if to say you doing your job is an inconvenience. You should just do it.”

Me: “My apologies, sir. It’s merely a turn of phrase. I will get your drink right away.”

(I walk off, a little irritated, but otherwise still smiling. Some time goes by without incident and this table continues to get drinks up until close, at which point the customer approaches me as I’m doing some side work.)

Customer: “Hey, I think I was being a bit of a jerk earlier with that whole ‘No problem’ thing. My wife made me come over and apologize.”

Me: “Oh, it’s fine, sir.”

Customer: “No, really, I’m sorry about that!”

Me: *without thinking* “It’s no problem, sir.”

(We both realized what I said and the customer stared at me, but he bit his tongue and shook my hand before walking away. His wife, just behind him? Cracked up!)

Not Seeing The Problem Here
FLORIDA, FUNNY, HOLIDAYS, RESTAURANT, USA, WORDPLAY | RIGHT | AUGUST 28, 2012
(I am a server at a rather nice restaurant in the downtown area. It’s New Year’s Eve and a couple in their forties are enjoying the after-meal cocktails while waiting for the midnight fireworks.)

Me: “How are the drinks?”

Customer: “Great, thanks.”

Me: “Anything else that I can get for you at the moment?”

Customer: “I’m fine.”

Customer’s Wife: “I’ll have another glass of wine, please.”

Me: “No problem at all—”

Customer: “You know, I really hate people that use that term ‘No problem.’ It’s as if to say you doing your job is an inconvenience. You should just do it.”

Me: “My apologies, sir. It’s merely a turn of phrase. I will get your drink right away.”

(I walk off, a little irritated, but otherwise still smiling. Some time goes by without incident and this table continues to get drinks up until close, at which point the customer approaches me as I’m doing some side work.)

Customer: “Hey, I think I was being a bit of a jerk earlier with that whole ‘No problem’ thing. My wife made me come over and apologize.”

Me: “Oh, it’s fine, sir.”

Customer: “No, really, I’m sorry about that!”

Me: *without thinking* “It’s no problem, sir.”

(We both realized what I said and the customer stared at me, but he bit his tongue and shook my hand before walking away. His wife, just behind him? Cracked up!)

Shaming Special On The Pre-Wedding Aisle
GROCERY STORE | RIGHT | MARCH 15, 2013
(I am in a grocery store with my two-year-old nephew. I am 22, and wearing my engagement ring.)

Other Customer: “Hey, you!”

Me: “Me?”

Other Customer: “Yeah, you. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Me: “What?”

Other Customer: “It’s bad enough that teenagers like you seem to think you can just sleep with people. Then you have kids and try to act like you could raise them!”

Me: He’s—”

Other Customer: “It’s things like this that show me that you have absolutely no respect for this country! The entire country is going down the tubes. It’s appalling to think that you would ever even consider having a child outside of wedlock.”

(An employee comes into the aisle to stock things, but overhearing the other customer’s comments speaks up in my defense.)

Employee: “Hey, are you going to even let her talk? She doesn’t have to, but I think she’s entitled to respond to the things you’re saying.”

Other Customer: “You keep out of this. There is nothing she can say to make it any better.”

Me: “Actually, there is. One, this is my nephew. Two, I’m 22, which means if he were my child, I would have been twenty when he was born. Third, his parents are married and have been since before he was even conceived. Fourth, before you start flying off about unmarried people, you may want to check their ring hand.” *I hold up my hand* “I’m engaged, but you couldn’t know I wasn’t married. Fifth, even if I was 17, and this was my child, and I wasn’t married, why would it be any of your business?”

(The customer doesn’t say anything, and slowly walks away. I turn to the employee.)

Me: “Thanks.”

Employee: “No problem. That actually turned out as well as it possibly could have. I was mostly saying it so you could just say, ‘None of your business’. It’s even better that none of the things that she was accusing you of were true.”

Don’t Be Tardy With The Tardis Drink
FAST FOOD, RESTAURANT | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 26, 2014
Me: “Welcome to [Restaurant]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I want a large chocolate shake, and can I still get burgers this late?”

Me: “Absolutely.”

Customer: “Great! I want the grilled onion cheddar burger, but no cheese.”

Me: “So just the onions on the burger?”

Customer: “Yeah, sorry to be so complicated.”

Me: “It’s no problem, and honestly it’s not that bad. You’d be surprised at the kind of requests I get through here. Can I get anything else for you today?”

Customer: *joking* “I’d like a large coke in a small cup to go.”

Me: “Aw, I wish I could, but unfortunately our cups don’t have Time Lord technology, so they aren’t bigger on the inside.”

Misogynist Versus Masochist
COLLEGE & UNIVERSITY | LEARNING | OCTOBER 16, 2013
(We are reading ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’ The Professor a fifty-something, balding, portly man is explaining how people interpret the play to be very misogynistic because it’s about a husband ‘taming’ his ‘savage’ wife. My professor asks us to think of a different reason for Petruchio’s behavior towards Kate.)

Student #1 : “Maybe he’s just showing her how cruel she is by pretending to be her.”

Professor: “Maybe, but that would mean she would still be tamed in the end.”

Me: “Maybe he paid her to act that way.”

Professor: “A capitalist theory! Interesting! Does anyone have other ideas?”

Class: “…”

Professor: “No? Well I’ll share mine then. See, I thought this play actually was misogynist when I first read it. But a few years back, I developed another theory after reading a rather popular book. Has anyone ever heard of Fifty Shades of Grey?”

(The class mumbles replies and gives the professor strange looks.)

Professor: “For those who don’t know, it’s a Twilight-esque romance with a BDSM twist. But after reading it, I started to wonder maybe Kate liked being ‘tamed.’ It makes sense doesn’t it? Doesn’t her speech about the perfect wife sound like she is describing a slave? And once she finished, what did Petruchio do?”

Student #2 : “He dragged her to bed!”

Professor: “Straight to bed! Kate’s speech got them both so hot and bothered, that they left the room the minute she finished!”

Student #1 : “Holy crap.”

Me: “It actually makes sense.”

Rated I For Immature, Part 2
VIDEO GAME STORE | RIGHT | OCTOBER 7, 2012
(A friend and I are working a late shift at a popular video game store. Two kids come in and pick up a copy of Halo 3. This happens to be a mature-rated game (18+), and these kids are obviously far short of that.)

Kid #1 : “I’ll take this.”

Coworker: “Sorry, you need to be over 18 to buy that. This is a mature-rated game.”

Kid #2 : “YOUR MOM IS A MATURE RATED GAME!”

Coworker: “Get out!”

(The kids swear at us as they leave. The two of us look at each other.)

Me: “What the h*** just happened?!”

This Rep’s Number Is Up
BANK | WORKING | APRIL 23, 2013
(I’ve recently gotten my first mobile. However, a bank company has been calling me on and off for five days.)

Representative: “Is Mr. [name] speaking?”

Me: “Does my voice really sound like a ‘mister’ to you?”

Representative: “I don’t have TIME for this! Where’s your dad hiding?!”

Me: “I don’t know who gave you my number, but this is my personal mobile. My father does not use your bank.”

Representative: “Oh, okay, we’ll call back when he’s available.” *click*

(A day later, the same representative calls.)

Representative: “Hello, is Mr. [name] there?”

Me: “No. I don’t know him, I am not at all related to him, and I’m sorry to say that this is the sixth time you’ve called this number and it will not change the fact that it’s mine.”

Representative: “Listen up, kid. This is Mr. [name]’s number, and I don’t CARE if he’s in trouble; we NEED to reach him. I suggest you take your f***ing bad-a** attitude SOMEWHERE ELSE, because we KNOW he uses this number. He gave it to us!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir, but I’m most certainly not the man you’re looking for. I’m a 15-year-old studying at [college], not Mr. [name]. I don’t have a bank account with anyone yet.”

Representative: “Cut the crap and get him on the phone NOW!”

Me: “Sorry, what was your name again? Didn’t catch it. And could you transfer me to your supervisor? ”

(He gives me his name and transfers me. Thankfully, the supervisor not only gets the representative on the phone to apologise, but also later calls me back to let me know the representative was calling a random number—mine—to cover up for his own father!)

Past, Present, or Future, She Ain’t Graduating
COLLEGE & UNIVERSITY, DATE, EDITORS' CHOICE, FUNNY, TIME, USA | RIGHT | OCTOBER 14, 2008
(A mother is worriedly telling me her daughter wants to graduate, but may be past the deadline to apply to do so.)

Mom: “She was planning to graduate early, instead of in the Spring! Now you’re telling me she can’t do that?”

Me: “Well, it’s October already, and there is a lot of preparation involved. She wanted to graduate in January ’09 instead of May?”

Mom: “No, she wants to graduate January ’08!”

Me: “… That’s in the past, ma’am.”

Mom: “Oh, fine! Well, whatever technical time you go by!”

Margarinelly Insane
BIZARRE, ENGLAND, FUNNY, GOLDEN YEARS, GROCERY STORE, UK | RIGHT | DECEMBER 26, 2010
Old Lady: *shouting randomly* “Marge? Marge?”

Me: “Are you okay?”

Old Lady: *worriedly* “I can’t find Marge!”

Me: “I’ll see if I can find someone to help you.”

Old Lady: “Please don’t go. You must help me find Marge!”

Me: “Okay, what does she look like?”

Old Lady: “Who?”

Me: “Your friend Marge?”

Old Lady: “I’m looking for margarine. It should be next to the butter!”