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      Vote for Valucre [September]   09/01/2017

      Voting for the month of September is open on TopRPSites! Vote for Valucre daily and help new members searching for a place to roleplay discover the same joys you have in Valucre. You can vote daily, so make voting for Valucre a habit. Discussion thread
Cordeliane

Work Rants, unbelievably stupid questions...

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BWAH!

So I'm a HAZWOPER-certified (Hazardous Waste Operations and Emergency Response) vacuum truck driver/operator, and I'm a particularly-OCD when it comes to knowing exactly where my shit is in either of the trucks I drive. I mean, if ANYBODY touches Bessie I or Bessie II and messes with my system, I go ballistic! Not just because it's a pain in the ass, but because it's reckless and unsafe!

Anyway, some stupid fuck didn't get the memo and completely rearranged my shit... I had to work overtime for three whole hours to get my respirator, SCBA tanks and mask, filters, cartridges, and canisters all how they were before WWIII erupted in the cab and storage bins on the side of my beloved Bessies.

After all this shit and back-and-forth yelling back at the depot, I come to find out that my boss's daughter was working with some people after-hours to inventory equipment for him. 

WTF SHE HAD NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT ANYTHING WAS, LET ALONE ANY SENSE OF CARING TO PUT THINGS BACK WHERE SHE FOUND THEM SDAFISHDFAIBDJAFIDAJKHGAJSBDFJAWBUEABSOIUFHS

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Meanwhile in Aberdeen...

 

You're Not in Kansas Anymore! A Brief Tale of the Evolution of Man

 

Man walks in.
Stands there. Looks around dazed and confused.
“Is this Aberdeen?”
“This is Aberdeen.”
“…”
“…are you sure?”
“Yessir, I work and live here. This is Aberdeen.”
“Aberdeen, North Carolina?”
“The one and only.”
“Huh…”
Walks back out.

---

Moments later...

Points to the blue arrow on the map
“Is this where I need to go?”
“No sir, this is where we are. You follow the blue line and it will tell you where to go.”

“Oh I know where I need to go, I just wanted to make sure I know where I am. And this is where we are?”
Proceeds to zoom out to see the full trip on the map, “Where is this?”
“This is where you are trying to get to.”
“So what’s this?” Points to blue arrow again.
“This is where we are right now.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“In Aberdeen.”
“Aberdeen, North Carolina.”
“How do I know what road to turn on?”
“It’s just like the Wizard of Oz, follow the blue line, she will tell you where to go.”
“It talks!?”

 

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"Oh, so you're from England?"
Me: "Yes."
"Cool! Where's that again? London?"
Me: "No. Nope. London is in England."
"...Huh?"

"So what's it like living in London?"
Me: "Oh, I wouldn't know, actually. I spent most of my life a couple of hours away from London."
"Wait, I thought you said you were from England?"
Me: "Yes, yes I did and, yes, I am."
"...Huh?"

"England, that's in France, right?"

"England? I thought you were from Great Britain."
Me: "Yep. England is part of Great Britain."
"Oh. Wait, I thought it was the United Kingdom?"
Me: "Yep, Great Britain is part of the United Kingdom."
"...But aren't you from London?"

I mean, I could keep spinning it a variety of ways, but suffice to say that it never gets old.

EDIT: Totally had to add this last bit.

One of my favorites is when others are so sure they know the layout of UK/GB that it's as if they try to correct me when I politely correct them. Never mind the fact that I'm from there, and that most of what they 'know' is limited to improper terminology interchangeably abused, they just can't convince themselves that, wait, they don't actually know these things.

"Yeah, so I shipped it to Scotland in the end. West of your homeland!"
Me: "Ha, almost. Scotland is actually north of England."
"Huh. It's an island though, right?"
Me: "Nah, you're probably thinking of Ireland. Scotland is part of Great Britain; the biggest island of the British Isles which includes England and Wales along with Scotland."
"Huh. Hm. But, wait, wait, Wales is part of England's island? Nahhh, I thought Wales was its own island."
Me: "Nope. It's attached."
"Huh... Hm... Nah, that can't be right. Something's wrong there."
Me: "..."

Edited by Die Shize

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Meanwhile in Aberdeen...

It's time for another exhausting round of Guess Britty's Ethnicity!

[ Tosses confetti ] Woo!

I hate everything!

 

Young man walks in, I handle the transaction

"You have a very interesting accent, where are you from?"

God help me, I hate everything...

I laugh nervously, because its' an inevitable conversation that comes up at least six times a day, easily, "Take a wild guess!" He missed my sarcasm.

"You're Spanish or Indian or somethin'?"

"Yup."

"Cherokee?"

"Pardon?"

"Lumbee, maybe. You look Lumbee."

"Oh, yes, I'm also Native American, neither Cherokee nor Lumbee--I'm Navajo."

"'Also'?! Wait, so what else are you?!"

"I cover every continent but South America and Antarctica."

"Are you British?"

"Doubtful."

"You sound English."

"Wrong country."

"Canadian?"

"Nope."

"New Zealand?"

"Nerp."

"Huh. Well damn. I don't know."

"I'm half white, half everything else. Australian is the accent you're looking for."

"Well you're just a mutt, aren't you?"

Fucking rude! Get the fuck out of my fucking store before I cuss you the fuck out!

"We'll go with that."

"At least you're not Jewish."

 

...

. . .

My brain was not prepared for that...

 

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How rude. Well, "mutts" tend to be very beautiful people (like Britty). Me? I'm just a twinkie.

So this person comes in for her cake. It's a full sheet cake so it's huge... and what do you know, my cake decorator person didn't leave a top to put over the cake, and of course it's raining. She does this all the fucking time too. I can't find a top. I tear the place apart looking before calling my manager, who looks all over too before stumbling upon one hidden in the corner of the area behind shit. This took at least fifteen minutes if not more, and all the while she's just waiting patiently. I finally get her out of there and then the phone rings.

"Hello?"

Cue the most dreaded customer of all time - the Fire-Breathing Dragon of Rage who is infuriated I made her son wait for his fucking cake. This is a different lady, calling all the way from another store.

Her: "RAWR"

Me: "Yes ma'am."

Her: "RAWR"

Me: "Sorry ma'am."

Her: "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR"

Me: "Sorry ma'am."

Her: "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR"

Me: "Sorry, ma'am." *looks apologetically at a customer who's waiting (and listening) while this lovely lady chews me out*

Her: "RAWR You're missing the point!" *hangs up*

Me: *slowly hangs up the phone* "Can I help you?"

Customer: "Well, she was rude. You gonna be all right?"

Me: "I will be."

But that's not all.

I'm pushing my cart back to the room and I've got to veer through a line of customers. I say sorry and excuse me a lot. Then this lady barges through, very nearly collides with me and practically almost shoves me sideways.

Customer: "Hey, can't you say excuse me?"

Lady: "I DON'T CARE I WAS HERE FIRST."  Then, to me, "ASSHOLE."

Me: "... -_-" (if she was expecting me to qq she was disappointed)

Customer: "She was very rude to you."

Me: "Yes, she was."

 

 

 

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Oh, gosh. I have two instances from me working in the local herpetarium...

 

Scene One

(I'm talking to a bunch of high school seniors just outside the building.)

Me: So, as you all probably already know, we study snakes and reptiles here - basically, it's a zoo for the scalies.

Boy: Oh! Seriously? I thought this was a place where you studied herpes!

 

Scene Two

(I'm at a showing, handling snakes for yet another high school field trip. The one I'm currently holding is an eight foot long black rat snake.)

Me: Now, these sweethearts live anywhere from New England, to south Georgia, to Northern Louisiana, and Southern Wisconsin...

Girl in the front row: New England?

Me: Yeah.

Girl: But we're in North America.

Me: Right. New England is apart of North America.

Girl: Wait. Do we live in North America or the USA?

Me: ...Yes. 

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I wish I had thought to post this when it happened a few weeks ago, but I lost track of this thread. Still chuckle-worthy.

---

 

Darrell - Do Not Call (see notes)

 

For those who are familiar with Dennis the Menace [ He's in here a few pages back ], meet his cousin twice removed Darrell Do Not Call (see notes).

I was minding my own business--and by that, I mean I was nosily listening to other people's calls at work. It's not uncommon that a majority of calls are disconnected, hung up on, etc. I was blissfully unaware at first, but as things often happen in my life--this changed, quickly.

Because Darrell took his disconnection personally.

He took it upon himself to call back and demand to speak to a supervisor because he insists he was hung up on. The young lady called Greg over.

My man Greg got on the phone, and I'm close enough to hear him. Then I hear it: the trigger. "Sir. Sir. You are not going to speak to me that way, sir. No." I had a call come in so I got distracted. I assume the call ended because Greg was chuckling and walking away.

Darrell called back. This was the fourth agent he's spoken to now. Once when he got disconnected, second when he called back and cussed the young lady out demanding a supervisor, third when he spoke to Greg, and now he was cussing out one of the girls on my team about how terrible Greg was, and that he was a piece of shit and other long strings of profanity. She put him on the Do Not Call List.

But it was like a horror movie. He just kept calling back.

It was the other Brittany, who sat on my left side--we call her Brie so we don't confuse everyone.

I felt my days were numbered. I still hadn't learned his name by then. I was distracted between taking calls and listening to calls.

And then.

It happened.

 

 [ Darrell Thompson (see notes) ]

"Shit." I muttered, and took the call. I had...a feeling.

"Am I on the Do Not Call list, yes or no?"

"That's what it says."

"Am I on the Do Not Call list, yes or no?"

"That's...what I am reading if my college education is worth anything."

"As of what time?"

"As of 18:57."

"What does that mean?"

"6:57PM, sir. It's 7:03PM now."

"Good."

"Well sir, if you'd stop calling and harassing my staff over a disconnected call, you wouldn't have lost six minutes of your life. Unfortunately because you called in, [Insert him beginning to cuss Greg out again and talk over me, which I do not allow] I don't have a Do Not Call disposition so you'll probably hear from us again in a few months. Have a great day!" [ Click ]

The worst part? There were no notes!

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Tales of Brittania the Tiny and the Mutant X Youth Gene

 

[ Sitting in for an interview. Manager is young'ish looking--maybe a little older than me??? ]

Steven: "Everything looks fantastic, err--how old are you again?" [ Flips through papers ]

Moi: "I'm twenty-eight." [ Beaming smile, cause I know what the fuck is about to happen ]

Steven: [ Visibly startled ] "You're older than me? ...Wow." [ Looks mildly uncomfortable. Flips through resume to double check math or whatever ]

Moi: "July sixteenth, nineteen eighty-nine."

Steven: [ Sits back in his chair and still looks like he's seen a ghost ] "I feel so young now." [ Turns out he's 22 but looks like he's in his thirties and is every bit as nerdy as I am ]

Moi: [ Nervous laughter ] "I'm sorry. Blame my mother. I inherited her mutant youth genes."

Steven: [ Nodding thoughtfully, then shaking his head ] "Any chance you want to donate to science so we can harness the power of immortality?"

Moi: "Unfortunately if the Feds find out my secret I won't be able to do an awesome job working here. Better to keep it under the table for now."

Steven: [ Laughs ] "This is great. I'll see if I can get this into the system. You'll probably hear back if not the end of today then Wednesday since we observe Monday and Tuesday for Labor Day."

Moi: [ Laughs too, because victory! ] "Thanks for keeping my secret mutant identity a secret." [ Shakes hands with ]

 

 

...and that is how I land a job! :kiss:

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