GoneIn30Seconds

[captainonyon]

Rock, paper, scissors… gun?! Lairei, do something!

[gonein30seconds]

Lairei don’t care who is winning or even why they’re playing, she is here to be sassy during the last few weeks of summer.

AKA me and two friends teamed up for Lord of Heroes’ most recent snapshot event

[gonein30seconds]

Old Assistant Manager Accidentally Texted Me

Funny thing happened this week.

So one of my jobs is at a local art museum, and at the beginning of the month my boss (the museum store manager/events and marketing director) left for artist residency, leaving me to take the reins and watch the store. So one day this week I’m closing up the store (printing out sales stuff, locking the front door, shutting off the lights, etc.) when I get a text message. I check it, thinking it’s my mom - and I see this from a number I don’t immediately recognize: “Hey GI3S, it’s Dave. Can you come in from 7-7:30 tomorrow? I don’t have a breadstarter.”

I am incredibly confused and am standing there awkwardly like “UHM...no?” Fortunately some further investigation clears up some of my confusion - this guy is Manager Dave, an assistant manager at the local Jimmy Johns, where I used to work. The keyword here, however, is used to; I quit Jimmy Johns in 2019. So now I’m faced with the possibility that this guy either didn’t get the memo or he texted the wrong number and I’m not sure which is more awkward.

Regardless, though, I send the guy a quick text being all like “Dude, I am so sorry, I quit two years ago,” pack up and head home. Later I get a text back explaining that he’d meant to text another girl with the same name as me and apologizing for the out-of-nowhere text. We wished each other a good week and went on with our lives, much as one of my friends says I shoulda done the Chaotic Evil thing and just agreed to take the shift to mess with him.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So while I was getting my haircut, the lady asked me if I had other plans for the day and I said:

“I’m just going to pick up the boy from daycare and then it’s date night.”

And the lady says “Oh! How old is he?”

“He’s three.”

“Mine too! Where are you registering him for kindergarten it’s such a hassle-”

And that’s when I realized I said “boy” and not “dog” because I always think of Charlie as “good boy” but this slip up has lead to a miscommunication.

The lady is now 6 minutes into a clearly needed rant about how unnecessarily complex shopping for schools is, esp when you have a neurodivergent child, so I can’t just tell her that Charlie is a dog because then she’ll feel awkward for unloading on me and she clearly has enough going on.

So the rest of the haircut became a game of “how much can I say about Charlie without revealing that he is not a human child?” And the answer is “enough to cover a half hour hair appointment, quite possibly several hours worth if I’m specific enough”

[gallusrostromegalus]

“is he very verbal?”

“It really depends on who he’s with. He’s very quiet at he but won’t shut up if he’s at the park or has a friend over.”

“was it hard to potty-train him?”

“he’s adopted, but I was genuinely amazed at how good he already was with hygene and potty stuff.”

“mine’s just obsessed with paw patrol and Frozen, drives me crazy!”

“I imagine. Charlie is colorblind so he’s not as into tv, but he always wants a toy if I take him anywhere with them.”

“oh gosh the toys! And the kids are so rough on them!”

“yeah Charlie can destroy a stuffed animal in about 2 minutes, so I only buy him the really cheap ones.”

“Does he throw tantrums when they break?”

“Not really. It’s meditative, really, taking them apart. He has hysterics if the cat takes his toys though. Runs downstairs and cries at me until I retrieve it because he’s not tall enough to get it out of the cat tree.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Very Good Boy in question, Charleston Chew.

(if you want to read more of my much weirder adventures, I have pre-orders for my book on Patreon right now: https://www.patreon.com/gallusrostromegalus )

[gonein30seconds]

I have a similar story.

One of my current jobs is at a military museum library, where I work alongside an older lady with grown kids who have kids of their own. So not too long ago, she and I were eating our lunch at the library table (to avoid Old Men Talking Politics) and her son came in. She and her son started to chat, as you do, and eventually they brought up someone named...I forget the name, so let’s just say it was ‘Kaylee.’

Anyway, Kaylee, as it happened, had just had some sort of leg surgery, and me, thinking they were talking about one of my coworker’s grandchildren, was incredibly sympathetic but wasn’t about to interrupt their conversation. Then they mentioned that Kaylee was unhappy that she couldn’t get up on the couch while she was recovering by order of the doctor and I thought that was very strange; when my sister was recovering from knee surgery she could basically ONLY sit. Then they mentioned Kaylee wasn’t allowed on the bed either, and that also seemed off - and then it hit me.

“Uhm...are you guys talking about your dog?”

Yes, in fact, they were talking about a dog. It was highly amusing and we all got a good chuckle out of it.