Posts Tagged ‘job’

 [I work with a girl that I’ve know since birth.  As I was warming up my lunch today, she was eating macaroni and cheese, and I happened to ask how her brother was doing.   This is the exact conversation that took place.  I wish I were creative enough to make this up, but I am not.]


me: so how’s your brother these days?  haven’t seen him in forever.
friend: he’s good. i don’t know what he’s going to do though, he just got fired.
me: from the tombstone-selling job?
friend: no, from his gas station job.
me:  he had a gas station job? 
friend: yea, so, i don’t know.  he is still working toward his degree in psychology.
me: psychology?  oh wow.  i never knew that… i always thought he would be
friend: a white rapper?  yea, me too.
me:  oh man, i was so worried about him a couple years ago, I thought he was never going
to get through that ghetto phase.
friend:  he didn’t.

me: oh noooooo.  thats terrible.  so he still wears the clothes, and says all kinds of words that make no sense?
friend: um, yes. 
me:  i remember going on his myspace and seeing all these references to “shorty.”  I was like, whats up with the rapper slang?
friend: yea, that’s our grandma.  
me: oh.  and he had all these R.I.P messages
to people?
friend: seriously, he really needs to chill out.  if anyone who dies within 5 degrees of him he thinks he gets a RIP tatoo.
me: yea, for awhile there i felt bad for him cus i thought all his friends were dying.
friend:  i’m like, “you don’t have to get tatoos of everyone listed in our church bulletin who died.” 
me: aaaaaaah hahahah.  oh man…
friend: his myspace headline says, “i hate white people.”
me: but he’s white?
friend:  i told him my shirt was black the other day and he called me a racist.  when we went to Cancun, the only book he would read was 101 important facts about African American history.
me:  he wants to be a counselor?  but he’s so messed up?
friend:  i know
me:  well maybe, he’ll psychoanalyze himself.
friend: thats what i keep hoping.

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[Here is a recent conversation between a Mr. X (we’ll call him Mr. X to protect privacy, but i’ll just tell you it’s pronounced boo-ty) and myself]

Mr. X: “yes, I’d like to reset my pin for my debit card, please.”

Me: “Sure, what would you like your pin to be?”

Mr. X: “B87754RH8”

Me: “Ok, sir, this is a pin number.  It can only be four numbers.”

Mr. X: “Ok.  just make it B877 then.”

Me: “No. I can’t do that.  It’s a pin NUMBER.  it has to be four numbers.  just like the last pin you had.”

Mr. X: “oh.  well, just keep it the same as I had before then.”

Me: “well, I can’t see what you had before.  I already deleted it.  You’ll just have to pick one.”

Mr. X: “Ok.   just make it the last four of my social.”

Me: “we do suggest for security reasons that you don’t use any personal information…”

Mr. X:  “oh. sure. ok.  how about 1959.  i’ll remember that.  its the year i was born.”

Me: “well, technically that wouldn’t be very secuuu.. actually, you know what?   that is a great idea.”

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