Category: Non-Dialogue

Caught Red Hot Chilli Pepper Handed

| WA, USA | Bad Behavior, Coworkers, Food & Drink, Non-Dialogue

We had a lunch thief where I was working.

One day I left my lunch in the fridge, and came in to find it sitting on the counter with one bite gone.

It was the strangest thing . . . just because that recipe called for 3-5 habanero peppers and 3 tablespoons of Tabasco, and the prime suspect in the theft hated spicy food!

I figure that just about took his head off.

And I never had anyone steal my lunch the rest of the time I was there!

Skipping Out Closing Duties? Nailed It

| Dublin, Ireland | Lazy/Unhelpful, Non-Dialogue

I get my nails done quite late in the evening. The nail technician is really friendly and polite and we have a lovely chat. However it seems to me that my simple file and French manicure is taking quite a while – to the extent that I even ask her if she’s new (she isn’t). I hardly ever get my nails done and I can’t look at my phone to see the time while my nails are drying, so I think I must be imagining how long it’s taking.

While she is doing my nails the other technician finishes with her customer, cleans up quickly and efficiently, and gets the place ready for the morning. I notice she seems really grumpy, just short of being rude to both me and my tech. I give my tech a relatively big tip because she was so friendly and it was such a relaxing experience.

As I’m walking away I get out my phone to check the time: I had been there for almost an hour!

I realised the technician had been dragging out my polish to make her colleague do all the closing work, and had even managed to land herself an extra big tip in the process.

Unfortunately they’d already closed, I don’t remember either of their names, and I wasn’t in that area for a while afterwards, so I couldn’t do anything about it – but I hope her colleague or manager talks to her about being so selfish.

Time To Retire That Attire

| UK | Bizarre/Silly, Coworkers, Non-Dialogue

I have an office in a portakabin of four rooms across the car park from the main building. Only two rooms are occupied.

One day I manage to knock over a glass of water and it soaks a load of papers on my desk and goes all down my trousers, too. I lock the office door, make sure the blinds are closed, and take my trousers off to put them on the heater to dry while I tidy up the desk.

After a few minutes the office door opens and a colleague walks in. She has come to collect some papers and let herself in with the master key. She is lovely but not overly bright.

She sits for a few minutes talking, and then starts to leave. As she is going out the door she asks if I am wearing any underwear. I say of course.

She says that she isn’t sure as it just look like I am only wearing a shirt.

She must have thought that this was normal for me in my office. But it hadn’t crossed her mind to leave when she first saw me, or didn’t she notice till she was leaving?

Email Is The Lease Of Their Worries

| Seattle, WA, USA | Ignoring & Inattentive, Non-Dialogue

It’s November, and we haven’t had an actual lease on the house we rent since July. Nobody at the rental agency seems to have noticed. We are on good terms with the owner, so it doesn’t matter to us.

Today, I got a call from the rental agency. “Hello, this is [Name] from [Agency]. We were going through our client files and we noticed something about yours.”

I prepared myself to make a trip in to sign a new lease, but it was all I could do not to laugh out loud when she said:

“We noticed we don’t have an email address for you. Could I get one?”

Hey, I’m not gonna tell her…

The Boss Didn’t Record Your Request

| London, England, UK | Bosses & Owners, Holidays, Ignoring & Inattentive, Non-Dialogue

It is Christmas 1988.

I have a recording studio based out of a big studio rehearsal complex in South London and have been working for three days on recording and producing some backing tapes for a client, who also happens to be an old friend. The last day we spend on the mixdowns and at about 9:30, we decide to take a timeout and go to the local pub for some refreshment, to rest our ears, and to generally chew over what we’ve done. While we are blowing the froth off a couple, another old friend along with his significant other turns up. Since we all know each other, we decide to carry on until closing time.

As it is getting late, I suggest we all go back to the studio, listen to the mixes we’ve done, and call it a day. As we are walking down the main corridor, we come across the studio manager who is busy restocking the beer machine in the green room. I tell him that we are just going downstairs to listen to what we’ve been doing and wrap things up. I also tell him not to lock up before checking with me.

We settle down and listen to the first track. At the end, one of our party has to go to the loo and so he goes off in search of relief while we carry on. The second track has barely started playing when he comes back saying that all the security gates in the corridor are locked and the lights are off!

Thinking this is a monumental wind-up I go to investigate… and sure enough, the lights are off and the gates closed up tighter than a nervous sphincter attempting to rein in the purgative effects of a themonuclear-grade vindaloo. As I go back downstairs to the studio, I also notice that the rear fire exit doors have been chained up. I try to call the studio owner but get no joy, so we sit there for a while trying to work out what to do. My friend in particular is rather concerned as he is off to the Middle East first thing in the morning to start shooting a commercial.

Eventually I decide the only hope was to call the Fire Brigade and get them to break down the fire exit doors. Twenty minutes go past…no Fire Brigade. Thirty minutes…you guessed it. By this time, I have lost my patience, so grabbing my toolbox I go upstairs to the fire exit and proceed to dismantle the entire thing from the inside. I eventually manage to get it open only to be confronted by a big burly fireman about to lay into the door with a fire axe. I manage to avoid being sliced in two by the simple expedient of stepping rapidly to one side. The rest of the firemen enter and check out the entire building while I regale the lead officer with our tale of woe, much to his evident amusement.

As you might imagine, I am not best pleased with the incident so the next day about lunchtime, I storm into the office — small portable thundercloud in tow — and in front of the studio owner and his wife proceed to lay down some serious and heavy invective upon the head of the hapless studio manager, calling into question his dubious parentage, and threatening to attach his gonads to the output terminals of the largest Class A power amplifier I can find if there is ever a repeat of the entire sorry débâcle.

The studio owner is none too pleased either, having been read the riot act by the Fire Brigade that morning. He is also furious that, in order to deal with the considerable fallout from the incident, he’s had to cancel the flight he’d booked to the States for that evening, which means that he and his wife aren’t going to be able to visit their family until the New Year.

The flight he was booked on — but had to cancel — was Pan Am 103.

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