Share your stories of humiliating yourself. (The funny ones.)

Yeah, just something to lighten the mood. I’ll start us off.

I ride a bike – for transport, exercise, it’s what I do. So: one afternoon I’m out for a ride, deep in the countryside, riding through a tiny village on very narrow roads – when I come to the village church. There are a lot of cars parked by the church, but that’s not a particular problem, I can get by. But as I approach, clearly visible to all, the front car starts up and rolls towards me, into the middle of the very narrow road, completely blocking it. The only way I could possibly get past would be to cycle off the road into the dirt at the side.

Now, I should say that if you ride a bike, this sort of thing isn’t particularly unusual. Most car drivers are fine, polite, respectful, looking out for their fellow human and so on – but some of them are undeniably sh*ts. They’ve got a car and you’ve got a bike, so obviously they have right of way. Needless to say this pisses me off, and if I can make a point, I absolutely will. Indignant? You bet. So, filled with self-righteous anger, I just stopped the bike in the middle of the road, put a foot down, crossed my arms and stared at the driver. Saying in very clear body language: You know what mate? I’ve got all afternoon. And I just sat there, staring him down until he backed up into the parking bay; and I slowly cycled past, still staring at him, just in case he hadn’t got the point.

When I broke the stare and pointed my nose forwards again, I realised I was heading – still slowly – towards another blockage in the road. A priest in full regalia was in conversation with a man in a black suit with tails, and they were standing next to a long black sedan. With a coffin in the back. Ah – so I had just forced the car leading the guests away from a funeral to back up.

I felt significantly less satisfied with myself.

So: that’s the idea – I should say that when I do these things (which is fairly often) I do take great pleasure in telling friends the story. I just find these tales of deep personal humiliation very funny.

That was one of mine, and I would very much like to hear yours. What have you got?


I was at work in the kitchen of a restaurant and it was a CRAZY night and things were generally not going well. It was the sort of night where, when it’s finally over, you want to go cry in the walk-in for a while before you come back and clean up. There were about a billion things happening and I was getting a little flustered and popped something in the microwave, hit the time, and then hit “start”

The display on the microwave said “DO OR” and nothing happened. I said, “Do or? What the hell is ‘do or?’” and kept punching the button, but nothing was happening and it just kept saying “DO OR.” Well, this was holding things up- I needed the stupid microwave to just WORK, DAMMIT, so we could get on with the rest of our lives. I hit clear, tried again, and at this point I was getting REALLY frustrated- “WHAT. THE FUCK. IS DO. OR?? WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS THING? JUST WORK!!” (I promise I’m usually much cooler than that, but we were all on the verge of losing it that night)

it was then that one of the servers walked over and pushed the door of the microwave shut. Turns out they don’t work if the do…or is open.

I had just bought my brand new BMW (GS1150) motorcycle, and I was out riding it around. I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where I intended to get lunch, and there were a pair of pretty young things there watching me on my brand new really cool bike.

I was the styling motorcycle dude, showing off for the girls, as I pulled to a stop.

I put my feet down on a patch of oil, my foot skidded, I fell flat on my butt, and the girls busted out laughing and walked off shaking their heads.

I have an amazing talent for things that sound perfectly correct in my head not being that way when they come out of my mouth.

Some years ago, before the era of everyone being connected all the time, everywhere, my company’s owner called the office and told the staff he wanted to talk to our manager RIGHT NOW.

The manager (whose name was Peter, by the way) was on vacation, diving in the Gulf of Mexico. It took an afternoon of convincing his next door neighbor to let me in his house, rummaging through his papers to find his itinerary, calling his hotel and making very sure the clerk stressed the importance of the owner wanting to talk to my boss RIGHT NOW.

It all worked out, and when the owner thanked me for tracking down my boss, I modestly replied, “I guess that makes me the company’s official Peter finder now.”

I’m sure there are many involving me, but I’m also sure that most of them were when I was drunk. One that stands out involved a friend of mine instead. He embarrassed himself in two parts:

Part the first: He’s out on a beach, running around drunk and naked with a young woman, climbs up on a rock, falls off and breaks his leg. The girl and he manage to get back to the car and she takes him to the military hospital, where has to explain what happened to him. To his credit, he says “I was drunk and naked and fell off a rock at the beach.”

Part the second: Fast forward several months, and we’re in Japan. He’s riding a bike to and from work to strengthen the bum leg, and as he’s riding along one day by the pier, he sees a comely lass walking along. He looks over at her and waves and smiles, and runs smack into one of the huge tie down cleats, flipping ass over teakettle and re-breaking the leg.

Ah, I just remembered one of mine. I was in a bar in Rota, Spain with a bunch of other idiots. A woman behind the bar gives me the “Hi, sailor” look and says “Buy me a drink?” I said “No.” She says “Por que?” I said “Because you’re ugly.” She slapped me so hard I fell off the bar stool, causing much hilarity among my fellow drinkers. One friend told me the next morning “Man, she hit you so hard, I saw stars!”

I was always an excellent speller and frequently won the spelling bees back in grade school. Getting down to the last two standing, the teacher gave me view. I said give me a harder one, she said no.

I spelled V.E.I.W. :eek: :smack: :o

About 15 years back, I was with some friends in Las Vegas (skeptics meeting) and a group of us decided to visit Hoover Dam. I had a minivan so I took 5-6 other folks and we drove out there, parked in the parking deck, and spent about 90 minutes touring the inside and peering over the top, basic tourist things.

As we headed back to the car, I reached in my pocket and couldn’t find the car keys! Only one set, and I was beginning to panic and try to figure out what to do. When we got to the car, the keys were still inside…and we knew this because the engine was still running–I have never turned the car off. Fortunately I had started with a full tank and we had plenty of gas to get back to Vegas.

Over 20 years and a couple of them still won’t let me forget it…

I went on a blind date with a girl named Julie. The date went very well and we seemed compatible. I even got a good-night peck at the end of the evening.

But, I had a lot going on at the time, including disentangling from a prior relationship that had gone south, so I didn’t follow up with calling Julie back for a second date. A couple months later, I heard through the grapevine that she was upset that I never called back. But, by then I was too embarrassed to call her again.

Weeks later, I was completely free from my former relationship and I was thinking what an ass I was not calling back Julie. We had a lot of fun on our date and maybe there was some potential. Dummy!

Then, lo and behold, my phone rings!

“Hi, Tibby, how are you?” It was Julie. Yay!
“Oh, wow, I was just thinking about you! I just want to say, I’m quite attracted to you and I’m sorry for not calling you back. I just had a lot going on in my life at the time and too much time passed…and, well you know…”
“…You’re attracted to me? I had no idea…”
“Yes, I am! I’d love to take you on a dinner date. How about it?”
"…Uh, well sure, I guess that would be ok.”
“Great!” [we made dinner plans]
“Gee, I was just calling to ask if you wanted me to do your taxes again this year.”

Oh, crap! This isn’t Julie, it’s my CPA. They sure sound alike. Damn, I just made a date with someone much older than me who I’m not attracted to in the least. And, I’m pretty sure she’s married.

On reflection, I realized I’d be a jerk going on a date with someone I had no interest in. Plus, I’d be out a lot of simoleons if my CPA ordered lobster and wine at the fancy restaurant we agreed on. So, sheepishly, I called her back and explained the mix up. Luckily, she had a good sense of humor and we shared a good laugh.

I think she had the last laugh, though. She screwed up my tax return and I got audited that year.

In the '90s… Where I worked just got PCs and the slide show (what is the Lotus version of Power Point?) was a new toy.
During some downtime I made a slide show. I would find one of the pictures of people and made humorous captions for the pictures. And since it was work it was office humor.
One of the network people was monitoring the system and found a large file (size of files was more important back then) and opened it up. It was my slide show. He sent it to his boss, who sent it to other bosses and eventually my manager said that she needed to talk to me.
She opened up my slide show that was making fun of management, being cruel to coworkers, and so forth. I had to convince her that all characters in the slide show are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. While I got in some trouble, she did compliment me on the humor.

I go into the bar, squinting from the sunny afternoon, and step up to ask for a beer.

The guy behind the bar looks a little crazy and he’s just grinning at me and I have to repeat myself a few times.

I’m not getting my beer and dammit someone’s tugging at my elbow so I turn and say, “WHAT!”

The guy standing next to me says, “Sir, drinks are ordered from the other side of the bar.”

I’m laughing it off but the place is dead silent. As I round the end of the bar, I put on my best face and say, “C’mon, tell me it’s not the first time this has happened!” Nada.

What a bunch of jerks! Fortunately, it was in another town and I haven’t had to choose not to go back.

I recall the time somebody my brother didn’t want to talk to called on the phone and he handed the handset to me while whispering “Tell him I’m not here!”.

So naturally without thinking I told the guy on the phone “He says he’s not here.”

Whoops. Brother wasn’t happy…

Another one. I’m at my cousin’s wedding… Before the ceremony he is greeting people. Since he was one of the stars of the show all eyes were on him.
He gets to me and I do a “I want to say something private” thing. So, after I make my comment to him (with all eyes on him), he stands up and introduces me to the girl sitting behind me. Everyone in the place, including the girl behind me, knew what (who) I was asking about.
Good thing is that I did get her phone number and we went out a couple times.

I think I’ve shared this here before; I definitely have IRL.
Early in my relationship with my former (English) boyfriend, we went to brunch at our favorite restaurant which is very popular among the British expats around here.
I met many of his friends for the first time and we were having a great old drunken time. Got to talking to a couple who love cats, as I do. The woman told the story about her current pet whom she found as a stray. I was so excited, I drunkenly shouted “that’s how I got my Minge!”* Table wide silence and horrified faces ensued.

*Ginger Minge", shortened to “Minge”, was the nickname bf had given to my orange cat. I wasn’t familiar with the word minge and I guess had conflated it with whinge, or something.For those who don’t know, it’s a nasty term for nasty lady bits.:smack:

When I was a teenager I was having a good run on the arcade game Paperboy. Eventually I had to go and I ended up pissing my pants and running home.

I met a friend’s girlfriend for the first time. When he introduced me to her, he said “How do you like her boots, they’re brand new”? Well, I was actually looking at her footwear as he was talking. She had on beautiful spike heeled boots that were made of some exotic leather.

I replied, “They’re absolutely gorgeous, they look so supple, I bet they smell nice”, and they both started laughing, hysterically.

Turns out I misheard what he had said, both because my hearing sucks and because her boots really caught my eye. She had recently had breast augmentation and he said “boobs”, not “boots”.

My girlfriend and I (some 30 or 40 years ago) had just moved in together to a new apartment on the top floor of the building. We finished the exhausting move-in around noon, and took a rest. We had a mattress on the floor, no bed, and no curtains yet. We started to…fool around…and she said “Stop, we’re right by the window! We have no curtains!.”

I said “look out the window! We’re higher than the buildings across the street, and we’re on the floor. Nobody has a high enough window to look down and see us.”

She was persuaded by my logic and we continued and progressed to our natural conclusion. Just as we were reaching that…pinnacle…though, we both heard loud cheers and applause. Looking out the window, we saw a line of at least a dozen construction workers on the roof of the building across the street, enjoying their unobstructed view of our antics.

We scrambled for robes, towels, clothes, blushing furiously. At least they applauded. Boos would have have been worse. We put up curtains that same afternoon.

Not ME, but close.

My GF and I were having a romantic interlude in the living room of her house when the doorbell rang. GF was expecting something from her neighbor, so she jumped up and quickly pulled her summer frock on to answer the door. As the neighbor left, she winked and said, “Now get back to WHATEVER you were doing!” When GF came back to me, I observed to her, “You know you have your dress on backwards and inside out, don’t you?”

I’m LOVING these stories. Here’s another of mine – this time with an epilogue.

Years ago I used to work for a privately owned Italian company. Every so often they would have a talking shop to which delegates from all of the national affiliate companies were invited – I was selected from the UK office, as was my colleague S (also male). Now, several days of free Italian food is an exceptionally nice thing, but not so great weight-wise – we were going to have to do some exercise to compensate. I’m a cyclist and S was a swimmer – and neither of those options was going to work – so we settled on going running, as the hotel we were staying at backed onto a large park. Not that either of us really did running, but needs must.

Cut to the conference, and we found ourselves teamed up with the Austrian delegation – two very pleasant young women – and, chatting over coffee, we just happened to mention our exercise plans. One of the ladies immediately perked up: “Ooh, ooh – can I come running with you?”. Well, yes, I guess - why not?. “Er, yeah, sure,” we said.

IMPORTANT PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: when someone you have never met before asks if they can come running with you, do not respond “Er, yeah, sure.” The proper response is to ask: “Are you by any chance an international athlete?” End Of Announcement.

Austrian taekwondo second team, as you ask. She didn’t tell us until afterwards. M, one of our Italian hosts, also invited himself to join us, and he bailed in distress after one lap of the park. S and I stuck it out for three – thirty-five minutes, she ran us for (non-runners the both of us). I remember at one point of exquisite suffering, she was running backwards chatting to us about how great it all was. For her, maybe.

That evening we stuck with our Austrian pals and ate in a very nice restaurant with them. We took a cab because S and I were in too much pain to walk. S ended the evening in agonising bladder pain as well, as the restaurant toilets were down a flight of stairs, and he just could not go down the steps. (On the way, incredibly, we had to stop off because the girls needed cigarettes.:confused: International athletes, eh?)

Epilogue: Cut to the UK office a few days later, and I have a telecon with my Italian boss, who also happened to be M’s manager – and so, in dead time while we were waiting for other attendees to ring in, I told him the story of how M had bailed after one lap, but we stuck it out for three, and went on (jokingly) to complain that this showed a complete lack of moral fortitude, and therefore M should be fired. Not even polite laughter. Small cough. “Ah, Trep, I think you should know that [the company owner] has decided to sit in on the call……”


Tales of clumsiness, from 2016 [replaced dead link in quote]:

Back in high school, my wife went on a class trip to a Six Flags amusement park with her friends in senior year, but then as now, refused to take the roller coaster rides. However, that year featured a new one that was featured heavily in TV and radio ads at the time - I no longer remember the name, but it was the first ride in our area that would stop at some point, then go in reverse, stop, and go forward again.

Many of her friends were eager to go on this new ride, so out of curiosity, she asked them when she met up with them later: “So, how was the ride?”

“It was GREAT!”
“What was it like?”
“Well, it went up, way up, then down really fast into a loop, then - brrrt! - it stopped, went backwards through the loop, stopped again, and went forward!”

Well, duh, she thought to herself; I could see that from the ground, and knew that already from the ads.

She got only slight variations on this recounting from the next several people who came off the ride.

Finally, while talking to the member of her friend group who was The Lothario of the bunch as they got back into the bus for the trip back from the amusement park, she lost her patience and cut him off when he started saying the same thing: “…it went through a loop, then stopped, and went backwards --”

“Oh, come ON!” she said, loud enough to carry to the rest of the bus. “I know all the positions by now, all right? I want to know what it FEELS LIKE!”

Yeah, they still throw that at her 30 years later.