These are just a few of the funniest stories I remember from places I’ve worked. I will add to this list as I remember more, and/or have new funny experiences. Keep in mind that all of these stories are true, I wouldn’t lie to you.
Now, I don’t want to say that it’s not ok for a grown man to cry. I cry all the time, just ask any of my ex girlfriends...(wait, do you thinks that’s why? shit).
But I will make the distinction that if you DO cry, it has to be about something kinda important. Like when Jesus cried, it was about a friend of his dieing (though, he knew he wasn’t really dead, but “just sleeping”, or was going to raise him from the dead or something, your a funny one Jesus!). Or when I cry every damn time I watch the end The Iron Giant, or Toy Story 3, or Monsters Inc, or when I can’t have my way, or when someone doesn’t like me... (I’m beginning to see a trend here, darn it.)
Alright, so, my co worker and I (I learned quickly to not call my co-workers “partners”) drove to Virginia to deliver a couch. It was a big couch, huge really. It’s one of those big, nice new sofas that has a really tall back and really big arms. The back arched up in a nice and lovely wood finish that said “Isn’t this nice? You probably want this in your home. Well, too bad, ‘cus the only place I’m designed for is a warehouse.” At least, that’s what it should have said.
Before we even bring it up to the house, we walk up to check it out. The front had a two door entry, with a 90 degree turn to get into the living room, there was no way it was fitting in those doors without damaging BOTH the couch and his house. We look at the other doors, back and side, they were worse. We tell him that it wasn’t going to fit. That if he really wanted us to try, we would have to have him sign a waiver, which would remove any responsibility of damage to both the couch and his house, and we were pretty sure even if we pushed and pulled and swore at the thing, there still no way that thing was getting in.
We explain this to him. So...he started to cry. We sympathized with him and said that we liked the style of the couch and it would fit the look of his very lovely, Victorian house, so it’s really too bad it won’t fit. He explained that he measured the spot that it would go and it would fit there. We looked at his living room, it was huge, and we agreed that yes that would be a great place to put a couch, but it was just too big to fit through his doors. We sympathized again that the new fur nature they make isn’t made for old Victorian houses for small door framed (and smaller, less obese people, which he wasn’t, just making a point).
He said, “So, what are you going to do, just leave then?” At this point, in my head, I really wanted to say “well, no, we could hang out with you if you want, watch some foot ball, crack some brewskies, man it’d be nice to kick back and sit on a couch...oh wait.” But I didn’t.
We explained that we could leave the couch on his porch, and if he wanted to, he could hire someone to remove one of his windows in his living room and get it through there (which would have worked) but he didn’t like that. So, we explained that the only other option is for him to come back to the store and pick something else out. We gave him the measurements that would work for his door. We eventually left, but he was not happy and we felt a little bad...but also knowing that if we had forced it in, we would have ruined his trim and the couch.
He eventually came back to the store THAT DAY and took a second look at the couch and admitted to my coworker that yes, it was very big, and apologized. He picked out a different couch.
What can we learn from this? Measure your damn door way for something you want to put through it, not just WHERE you want to put it once it gets in the freekin’ room!
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