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    Social Notworking

    | Atlanta, GA, USA | Coworkers, Lazy/Unhelpful, Liars/Scammers

    (We had very busy Saturday, and before the shift change one of our coworkers calls in sick, leaving us understaffed. I’m asked to stick around, which I’m unhappy about because it means I am stuck at work for 12 straight hours. After clocking out at the end of the night, I pull up Facebook on my phone and find this.)

    Coworker: “Had a great time at the club tonight. What’s everyone else here been up to?”

    (Furious, I screen-cap it and show it to one of the managers the next day, which also happens to be Oscar Sunday. I later find he posted something else.)

    Coworker: “Man, I don’t want go in to work tonight. I just want to stay at home and watch the Oscars. I’m debating on just calling out tonight.”

    Manager: “Then you’ll be fired.”

    (I guess he forgot that he had most of the managers on his friends list.)

    The Owner Got Owned

    | Atlanta, GA, USA | Bosses & Owners, Ignoring/Inattentive

    (Our theater is privately owned by a man who is somewhere in his early to mid 70s. He is about to leave for the day.)

    Owner: “See you next time, [My Name].”

    Me: “Okay. Bye.”

    (He quickly turns around and heads towards the manager and two other employees who are behind the concession stand.)

    Owner: “What’s going on here? Why is everyone standing back here talking when there’s no one ushering or working in the box office?”

    Manager: “But [Another Employee] is in the box.”

    Owner: “Well, then who’s our usher?”

    Manager: “[My Name] is.”

    Owner: “Where is he?”

    Manager: “He’s standing right behind you.”

    (The owner turned around and saw me as I waved at him. We all worry about him sometimes.)

    Bad Jokes Are No Laughing Matter

    | Albany, CA, USA | Bizarre/Silly, Coworkers

    (I am a very short girl. I am breaking down boxes in the back room of the theatre, with a box cutter. I hear one of my coworkers talking to my manager behind the concessions stand and one of them makes a terrible joke.)

    Me: *stepping out from the back* “Who just made that joke?”

    Coworker: “It was me, I conf—” *he suddenly sees the box cutter* “I mean it was [Manager]! He just went upstairs. Go get him!”

    (I cackled and went into the back room to finish breaking down boxes.)

    A Discount Is On The Cards

    | Norway | Employees, Health & Body, Movies & TV

    (My friend has spent over a year battling cancer, and due to the effects of almost a year in bed and a severe reaction to chemotherapy, she has to learn to walk again. On one of her trips home, we decide to go see a movie. She’s in a wheelchair, and I’m pushing.)

    Friend: “Hello! We’d like two tickets to [Movie], please.”

    Cashier: “Of course! With the discount, that’ll be [price].”

    Me: “We get a discount? Awesome!” *I grin at my friend*

    Cashier: *to me* “Yes, but I need your card first.”

    Me: “Card? What card?”

    Friend: “We don’t have whatever card you’re talking about.”

    Cashier: “But you should bring your card for trips like this. It gets the companion a discount on their ticket.”

    (Suddenly, I understand what’s going on. She’s referring to a carer’s card.)

    Me: “Ah… I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m just here as a friend. We don’t have a card.”

    (I quickly explain what the cashier is talking about to my friend.)

    Cashier: “You can’t get the discount without the card.”

    Friend: “I don’t have one. Can we just buy the tickets, please?”

    Cashier: “Unless you can show me the card, I can’t give you the discount.”

    Me: “No, I’m not here to accompany her. I’m really her friend. We’re going together.”

    Friend: “Exactly what she says! I don’t have a card because I’m not disabled!”

    Cashier: “You really do need to show me the card for this.”

    (At this point, my friend is getting genuinely upset, and I’m not happy, either.)

    Me: “Listen to me. I am her friend. She’s been ill, but this is not permanent. She’s getting out of the chair again, and she does not have a card.”

    (You can see the cashier suddenly understand.)

    Cashier: “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you!”

    Friend: “It’s okay. I’d just like our tickets.”

    Cashier: “Of course! I’ll get you a different discount as an apology. Feel free to sit anywhere in the theatre. There’s hardly any people.”

    Me: “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

    (We get our tickets, and because there’s still 30 minutes until the movie starts, we decide to head to a store down the street for snacks. Once we’re outside…)

    Friend: “Hey, did you see what kind of discount we got?” *shows me her ticket* “Look, apparently we’re retired!”

    (We had a good laugh about it, and enjoyed the movie as two ‘retirees’ in our early 20s!)

    Won’t Let You Live This Down For An Age

    | Seattle, WA, USA | Employees, Ignoring/Inattentive, Lazy/Unhelpful, Movies & TV, Theme Of The Month

    (I am 15, and have always looked younger than I am. My younger brother is 12. A lot of people think he is older than I am. We would commonly go to movies together, but since I babysat and he didn’t have much income source, I usually paid for the tickets. We are going to a PG-13 movie; my mother knew the movie and had approved it for my 12-year-old brother.)

    Me: “Two tickets for [Popular Fantasy Series].”

    Ticket Agent: “That’s rated PG-13.”

    Me: “Yes, it is.”

    Ticket Agent: “You have to be 13 to buy a ticket to that.”

    Me: “I’ve never heard of that. But, I’m actually 15.”

    Ticket Agent: “Do you have ID?”

    Me: “Not really. I’m 15, so, I don’t have a driver’s license or anything.”

    Ticket Agent: “You can’t buy the tickets without ID. How about a student ID?”

    Me: “I’m homeschooled. I have an expired ID from when I went to one class at the junior high. It’s two years old, though.”

    (I give him my expired id that happens to still be in my wallet.)

    Ticket Agent: “This just proves that you went to [junior high], two years ago.”

    Me: “Which would have meant that two years ago I was in seventh grade, at least, which means that I’m in ninth grade. Which would generally make me older than 13.”

    Ticket Agent: “You have to be older than 13.”

    Me: “I am.”

    Ticket Agent: “I can’t sell them to you.”

    (Dejectedly, I walk away from the counter and go tell my brother.)

    Brother: “Give me the money.”

    (I give him money for the tickets, telling him it won’t work, because he actually isn’t thirteen. After a few moments, he comes back, tickets in hand.)

    Me: “How did you convince him you were 13?”

    Brother: “He didn’t ask.”

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