I get tired of having sex with the same girl she’s my girlfriend nothing serious ive cheated plenty of times F*ck it i only live once i think i deserve to bone a few more girls before I settle….last Saturday I went to the strip club and I paid a stripper to Suck me up well worth the money I left a happy customer :)
I am a cashier for a grocery store, and I am just working away when a mother and son come up to my register. The mother is in a hurry so I try to go quick scanning and bagging her items. The mom then tells her son that he has until I am done scanning the items to pick out a candy to buy. He starts looking as I reach five items… looks at everything when I only have 2 remaining.. starts to look at the gum at the end of the aisle when I am on the last item.. “You aren’t going to get any candy!” the mother says. I scan the last item and bag it as the kid grabs a pack of gum and throws it. It slides across the entire grocery belt, scans and slides into the open bag. We all cheered.
Using a throwaway because I know that the boss mentioned below is a Redditor.
Back in 2008, I worked for a Red Lobster in Michigan. The guy who ran it was extremely wealthy, and definitely a little mentally “different”. Let’s call him “Rick”. Nobody knew for sure what Rick used to do that made him so rich, because there was no way in hell our Red Lobster restaurant was pulling in enough money to make him that rich. The pay there was amazing because of him. Nobody there made less than $50 an hour. And on top of that we had health care benefits and 28 days of vacation a year. Our Red Lobster would have gone out of business long ago if the funds for all of that was coming from the profits, because our restaurant just wasn’t doing so well. We all knew it was because of Rick. The Red Lobster we worked at was one of the best in the state in terms of quality but it was in a bad area, so we didn’t get that many customers.
It really was a dream job. Rick truly cared about each and every one of us. Although the job application was intense (I felt like I was being interrogated for treason), once I was “in”, I was family, as mafia-ish as that sounds. I worked as a server, bringing orders from the customers and bringing food to them. For the money and benefits I was receiving, it was the best job I had ever had.
But…there was one catch. Remember how I said that my boss was a bit mentally “different”? He had a bit of a “fetish” for the butter sauce. At the end of each work day, he would randomly ask three of the employees to stay overtime for a few hours. The overtime pay was double what regular pay was. After the place was locked up and the kitchen shut off, he brought us into the back. He had set up a room specifically for his fetish. There was a cleansing chemical shower in one corner which he used to remove anything dirty from his body. He would strip down and go into it. Then he would walk to the middle of the room where he had set up a Jacuzzi filled with the Red Lobster butter sauce. This was the sauce that we had in the kitchen, and it was the same sauce that went back into the kitchen. Because, why waste the sauce if something completely clean went into it, right? ಠ_ಠ
It was the job of the employees he had spend overtime to fill up the tub, and then empty it and put all the butter back into the barrels they came in. One employee would stay in with the naked Rick in the buttercuzzi while another stood guard at the door. After he was done, Rick would “cleanse” himself against, and leave while we put all the butter back and locked the place up.
We were never told not to tell anyone, because it was obvious what would happen if somebody did. We would lose our amazing job with the best pay/benefits for our level of work in the whole state. But all good things come to an end, and we were all fired in July of 2011. We’re not sure why, but we noticed Rick becoming more and more agitated in the months leading up to it. He was always different and none of us dared ask him why.
TL;DR Best job EVER, nucking futs boss bathed in the butter sauce everybody ate.
Kraig wasn’t exactly crazy. He was just…well maybe crazy is a good word.
Kraig lived right down the street from me, and also managed to sit next to me for about three consecutive years in grade school. He was a pretty bad student and by around 3rd grade teachers had just realized that if he was not disrupting other students he was doing alright.
I remember in 4th grade he spent a full hour tinkering with a new mechanical pencil he had brought from home. I, being a nerdy studious type back in those days, had no really been paying attention to what he was actually doing. Apparently, he had been converting his pencil into a projectile weapon.
About five minutes before the bell rang for our long recess, he gave me a nudge on the shoulder. He had his typical half-cocked grin on, and he pointed over to Walter Lacey, who was casually doing his assigned math problems a desk away.
“Hey, Walter.” Kraig said, loudly enough for the whole room to hear. As Walter turned, Kraig fired his makeshift ballistic-pencil, shooting what I assume was a spring loaded projectile of graphite clean into Walter’s eye. There was a harrowing moment of silence as Walter sat dumbfounded, a half inch piece of graphite sticking clean out of his retina. Th silence was broken only by Kraig’s burst of laughter. Walter was quickly escorted out of the room and to the hospital, and Kraig soon followed.
A few years later Kraig asked me to stab him in the hand with a pen so he could get out of a test. I told him I would, but that I didn’t believe he would really let me. After a lot of reassurance that he wouldn’t rat me out for it, he let me. I stabbed a black UniBal ballpoint pen clean through his hand, nearly coming out the other side. Before he was escorted out of the building he casually thanked me.
(I’m walking around the store seeing if any shoppers need help.)
Me: “Excuse me, sir, are you finding everything all right today?”
Customer: *turning* “Oh, what the f*** is this?”
Me: “Um… what is what?”
Customer: “I haven’t been helped by a single American since I got here. Are you people even hiring whites?”
(Our town has a regrettably accurate reputation for being somewhat racist. Customers often ignore non-white employees or refuse their aid. I’m of Indian descent, but was born and raised a few miles away in Phoenix.)
Me: “Sir, all our employees are American citizens. If you don’t need help, though, I’ll just go.”
Customer: “Hang on, where’s your manager’s office?”
(Without warning, he grabs my arm and drags me forcefully to the office. He pushes it open without knocking.)
Customer: “You need to arrest this man! He’s an illegal!”
(My manager turns in her chair. She’s got light brown skin, and is often mistaken for Hispanic.)
Manager: “Sir, I know for a fact [my name] is a citizen. And you need to take your hands off him right now.”
Customer: *not letting go* “Oh my God! They’ve got a Mexican in charge. No wonder you don’t hire whites!”
Manager: “Sir, more than half of my employees are white. Now let [my name] go or I will call the police.”
Customer: “Are you threatening me? I’m a real American, you can’t threaten me!”
(At this he pulls out a Swiss Army knife and points it at her.)
Manager: “No, I’m not. Would you like me to?”
(Without warning, she draws a knife of her own from nowhere and slams it point-first into the desk.)
Manager: “That’s one. I’m carrying nine. Let him go.”
(The customer goes pale and releases both my arm and the knife.)
Manager: “Thank you.”
(Instead of letting him go, my manager locked him in the office and called the police, who came and arrested him for assault and threatening with a weapon. As they were leading him out, my manager stopped him for a moment.)
Manager: “And by the way, I’m not Hispanic, I’m Romani. If you’re going to be a racist, at least learn the difference.”
This is a true story. It happened exactly as described.
It was around noon on election day, November 6, 2012. I was sitting in McDonalds. A group of old retired men were enthusiastically talking about the election… saying nothing of note, but with much ignorance and stupidity. I stayed out of it. An employee of McDonalds was clearing a nearby table and quietly said to me, “This has been going on all day… I can’t wait for this election to be over.”
A couple was waiting in line. They were a typical, mid-forties, white, middle class couple. They were listening to the old guys discussing the election and the state of the union in general.
One of the retired guys said something negative about “Obama-Care” and the middle-class white guy in line turned to him suddenly and said, “Oh yeah, well I’ll have you know that if it wasn’t for Obama’s healthcare plan, I wouldn’t have any health insurance right now.”
This silenced the old guys. He continued, appearing to speak to the room in general, “Obama made it possible for me to cut the cost of my insurance by over 80%, so I voted for him again.”
The entire room was silent. Nobody said a word. Before I knew what I was doing, I heard myself addressing him.
“You actually sound like you’re proud of that”, I said.
“You’re damn right I am,” he replied indignantly.
“In other words, you’re proud of the fact that instead of paying for your health insurance yourself, you and Obama have ganged up on ME and have forced me, at the point of a gun, to pay for part of your health insurance. You’re actually PROUD of the fact that you are mooching off of me and all those people working behind the counter in McDonald’s… that you’re part of a gang that is using the power of the government to FORCE us to pay for your healthcare. Instead of feeling ashamed… instead of bowing your head and cowering in front of all the people you are depending on to pay for your healthcare insurance… instead of meekly thanking them for the sacrifices they are being forced to make in order to benefit YOU… instead, you stand there claiming that you’re PROUD! What do you have to be PROUD of? Are you proud of the fact that you’re unable or unwilling to take care of yourself? Are you proud of the fact that you’re stealing part of their wages for your own personal greed? No… shame is what you should feel. Disgrace… embarassment… and gratitude… along with a strong dose of remorse… because YOU can’t or won’t take care of yourself and so you joined a mob of others who can’t or won’t take care of themselves… and together you’ve figured out how to force US to take care of you. Shame on you.”
Nobody said a word. The guy was stunned and his wife stood there mortified. The room was absolutely silent for a moment, then one of the retired guys started clapping… and within a few seconds, he was joined by another… then by someone across the restaurant… and pretty soon it sounded like the entire restaurant was applauding.
I had delivered my little sermon while still seated at my table. I remained seated and looked down at my meal… angry at myself for having lost my temper and butting in rather than minding my own damn business.
Within a minute or so, the room quieted down again and everyone went about their business, pretending nothing had happenned.
Then I heard the guy quietly say to the McDonald’s counter person, “Can I change my order… I’d like that, to-go please.”
Yesterday I was at my local Food Lion buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Jake, the Wonder Dog and was in the check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had an elephant?
So because I’m retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn’t have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I’d lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a Perfect Diet and that the way that it works is, to load your pants pockets with Purina Nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care, because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stopped to Pee on a Fire Hydrant and a car hit me.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was Laughing so hard.
Food Lion won’t let me shop there anymore. Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the World to think of crazy things to say. Forward this (especially) to all your retired
friends…it will be their laugh for the day!