Some People Just Play House

, , , , , | Working | September 22, 2017

(My husband and I have bought a house. It is a show-home, and because of this, the builder has to keep it “on display” for six weeks after we close the deal. This happens on the day that we finally move in. We’ve been unpacking all day, and have decided to take a lunch break in the driveway. A car pulls up outside, a lady gets out, and she walks briskly past us up to the front door.)

Me: “Hello! Can we help you?”

Realtor: *stopping dead and staring at us* “What are you doing here?”

Me: “Having lunch.”

Realtor: “You can’t be here! Please leave.”

Husband: “Why would we do that?”

Realtor: “Well, for one thing, you’re trespassing. For another, I’m about to show this house to a client.”

Me: “I don’t think so.”

Realtor: “What do you mean?”

Me: “This is our house.”

Realtor: “EXCUSE me?”

Me: “This is OUR house. As in, we bought it, and we’re moving in today.”

Realtor: “WHAT? Nobody told me! I made arrangements several days ago for today’s showing!”

Husband: “Well, we signed the paperwork six weeks ago, so…”

Realtor: “This can’t be right. Are you sure you’re at the right place?”

Me: “Um, yes.”

Realtor: “…can I still show the house to my client?”

Husband: “What? Of course not!”

Realtor: “FINE!”

(She drove off in a very bad mood.)

About A Foot Away From Total Meltdown

, , , | Working | September 22, 2017

(I am standing in line at a sandwich shop.)

Worker: “Hi. Can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, please. Can I get a foot-long Reuben sandwich?”

Worker: “Do you want a six-inch or twelve-inch?”

(The customer and I both look at her; I figure she just wasn’t paying attention.)

Customer: “A foot-long.”

Worker: “Okay, a six-inch or a twelve-inch?”

Customer: “A foot-long means twelve-inch.”

(She just looked blankly at him and got the bread out. The man was very polite and understanding with her. Someone else helped me, and the last time I looked, she only had bread cut and had no idea what she was supposed to do next. I wonder how long it was before he got his lunch?)

Steve Me Alone!

, , , , , , | Working | September 22, 2017

(I am expecting a call from a hospital scheduling agent. Despite the fact that I normally don’t answer calls that show as “unknown” on the caller ID, I am answering now, in case it’s the agent.)

Caller: “Hi. Is this Mrs. [Last Name]?”

Me: “Yes, is this the hospital?”

Caller: “No, I’m looking for Steve [Last Name]. I’m calling about—”

Me: “There’s no Steve here.”

Caller: “But you ARE Mrs. [Last Name]?”

Me: “Yes, but my husband’s name is not Steve.”

(The caller begins a tirade about how he has to talk to Steve, I am hiding Steve, and Steve needs to pay his bills. I finally hang up on him, but he calls back a few seconds later. The caller ID shows a different number so I answer.)

Caller: “You cannot refuse to put Steve on the phone!”

Me: “Actually, I can. I suspect you are looking for my husband’s uncle, but he has never lived here.”

Caller: *now suddenly nice* “Oh, I’m sorry. Can you give me Steve’s phone number?”

Me: “No, actually I can’t. Steve died last spring.”

(The caller then began berating me about how Steve HAD to pay his medical bills. I hung up again. The scheduler called right after I hung up, so I went back to ignoring unknown calls. There were four different voice mails from this bill collector about needing contact information for Steve. I ended up filing a complaint with the attorney general’s office. I don’t expect to ever hear from them. The same agency calls and leaves voice mails for Steve at least three times a week.)

The Hat Is Key

, , , , , | Working | September 22, 2017

This story happened years ago when I worked at a small fast food franchise. I was responsible for opening the store on Saturday mornings, so Friday nights I needed to remember to pick up the key before going home. I also wore a hat most days when I worked, so I wouldn’t get hair in the food.

One Friday night, I was already in my pajamas and relaxing for the night, when I suddenly remembered I forgot to pick up the key. It was almost closing time, so I leaped into my car without bothering to change and drove full-speed to the store. By then it was closed, but there were still coworkers present to put away food and do final cleanup.

When my coworker saw me banging on the door — in my pajamas, hair a mess, and wearing a pair of gardening shoes that were the first thing I could find to throw on my feet — she opened the door and gave me a shocked look.

“I almost didn’t recognize you!” she told me. “You’re not wearing a hat!”

Turned Into A Corny Story

, , , , , | Working | September 22, 2017

I was listening to music while eating candy corn. It was a slow day, and my boss was incessantly interrupting me to talk about video games. Thinking his interruptions were about work, I kept having to take an ear-bud out and then put it back in.

Finally, after being interrupted too many times, I ended up putting a candy corn in my ear and trying to eat one of my headphone ear-buds.

I thought to myself, “Why does this candy corn taste like earwax and failure?”

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