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    Category: Health & Body

    Hard Working To The Corp

    | AR, USA | Bosses & Owners, Coworkers, Health & Body

    (At a big-box retail store, I, a newbie, have just injured myself with a box-cutter and go to patch myself up with gauze and tape. We’re talking an inch-long slice that skipped off the joint in my thumb. On returning, I have this exchange with my manager, a retired marine.)

    Manager: “I just had to send [Coworker] home for fainting at the sight of the mess you made.”

    Me: “And?”

    Manager: “You need stitches, and I need to file an accident report.”

    Me: “I need to finish my aisle, and you need to call in a replacement for [Coworker].”

    Manager: “Oo-rah.”

    Leave Them On A Nail-Biting Cliffhanger

    | USA | Coworkers, Health & Body

    (I bite off part of my nail, and it starts bleeding. I put a bandage on it, but it keeps falling off. I see a coworker near the supply drawer, and call over to him.)

    Me: “Hey, [Coworker], can you hand me some tape?”

    Coworker: “Uh, sure.”

    (He hands me the roll, and watches me take a piece off.)

    Coworker: What do you need to tape, anyways?

    Me: “My finger. I was biting on it and guess bit too much off.”

    Coworker: “You… bit… WHAT?!”

    Me: *suddenly realizing* “MY NAIL! I bit the nail off!”

    Coworker: “I shouldn’t have asked.”

    It Has Fallen In Shadow

    | San Francisco, CA, USA | Bizarre/Silly, Coworkers, Health & Body

    (At work, we have a mass emailing list to email everyone in our SF office. One day, this email comes through…)

    Subject Line: “Careful going out the [Street Name] door…”

    Body: “There’s a poo hidden in the shadows.”

    Scream Your Fried Lungs Out And They Still Won’t Listen

    , | England, UK | Bosses & Owners, Food & Drink, Health & Body

    (We have just got home after picking up a bucket of chicken; I go to take a bite when I notice something awful. I ring the branch.)

    Me: “Hi, I’ve found what looks like cooked internal organs in my meal. What can you do about it?”

    Worker: “Hang on. Let me get the manager.”

    Manager: *very young sounded voice* “Err… hello.”

    Me: “Yes, I’ve found something in my food. I don’t know what it is but it looks like a lump of lung. What can you do for me?”

    Manager: “Err… Do you want me to replace it?”

    Me: “Hang on. You are proposing that I stop eating my family meal, get in my car, and return a chicken leg? To presumably return home to a cold dinner?”

    Manager: “Well… err…”

    Me: “Or are you suggesting that I eat my dinner, and dessert, then drive clear across town to have another piece of chicken? Are you not even going to apologise?! Or offer me a free meal or something next time?”

    Manager: “You can return the piece of chicken for free.”

    (I stopped eating fast food chicken after that.)

    It’s A Tall Order Accepting Lemon-Aid

    | Marysville, OH, USA | Coworkers, Health & Body, Ignoring/Inattentive

    (In the car dealership I work at we have a large station featuring multiple pots of complimentary coffee, hot water for tea and cocoa, and a large tank of lemonade. One of my smaller, more menial tasks is to refill the lemonade tank when it gets low. Please note that the tank is rather tall and sits atop a counter. I am a five-foot tall female.)

    Me: *comes out of the break room with a large pitcher of lemonade for the tank*

    Coworker: *sees me* “Woah, woah. You’re not going to try dumping that in there, are you?”

    Me: “I do it at least three times a day.” *sets pitcher down and stands on toes to remove tank lid*

    Coworker: “No! You’re too short!”

    Me: *frowning* “Seriously, I do this all the time.”

    Coworker: “You’re not tall enough.” *holding his hand up to his shoulder* “You must be this tall to ride this ride.”

    Me: “I really can—”

    Coworker: “YOU MUST BE THIS TALL.”

    Me: “…”

    (My coworker proceeded to fill the tank up for me, all the while making good natured jokes about my height (or lack thereof). Every time he saw me trying to fill the lemonade tank on my own, he insisted on doing it himself because I’m ‘just not tall enough for that ride!’)


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