My sister has sadly observed that, now, where she sees a trail sign indicating ‘45 minutes’, it takes her 45 minutes to walk the trail.
I overheard this one when we were on a bicycle tour in Maui, years ago, and we were all standing on the beach before mounting our bikes:
Clueless midwest tourist: What’s the elevation here?
Stonefaced bike tour guide: How tall are you?
I just remembered one from years ago.
In response to an article about a woman who converted from Islam to Christianity.
“This sounds nice, but I dunno… Can you really be a Christian if you’re not from America?”
I’ve been on that trail, and didn’t find it too strenuous. But that was years before I became a “very old male tourist.” These days, walking across the living room can be strenuous.
Another classic I’ve just been reminded of. Descending the stairs to look at Roman remains under York - “Why did the Romans have to build everything ten feet underground?”
I really wish that had ended with
Female Ranger: Strenuous.
VOMT: I mean, for a man.
FR looks over VOMT, ending at his beer belly: (deadpan) Impossible.
I’ve just remembered one from an aunt, who went on a trip to the Alps with a friend. Riding on a cable-car up through a wooded mountainside, the friend remarked “Isn’t it funny how the trees get taller the higher we go?”
I had an eye doctor appointment on Friday then picked out new frames. As I was sitting at that desk waiting to get fitted I hears the poor clerk next to me and the woman he was dealing with.
Clerk: Yes, we absolutely can add X coating to the lenses.
Her: Good. And I want clear lenses.
Clerk: I’m sorry; if we put X coating on the lenses will no longer be clear.
Her: But I want the coating.
They were still going round and round on this point when I left ten minutes later or so.
Clearly they’re talking about two different coatings and the clerk is too clueless to understand the difference and help the customer bridge the gap in their understanding. There’s stupidity there, but probably not where it at first appears.
Okay. Reading all of those was fun!
But, shifting back to the original premise…
…
It was the late 1980s and I was sitting on a plane heading back home to San Diego. I was fumbling with a backpack while waiting for other passengers to arrive and take their seats. Three young college boys stopped near my seat and started filling the overhead bin. One looked down at me and asked, “What’re ya doin’?”
“Ahh.” I responded without looking up, “My pack got snagged in the X-ray feeder so I’m trying to MacGyver this zipper enough to stay together until I’m back home.” Then I noticed the questioner still standing in the aisle and looked up to ask “You wouldn’t happen to have a paper clip on you, would you?”
“Nah, sorry.” he shrugged and sat with his friends behind me.
While we were waiting for more passengers to get seated, one of the others decided to fill the time with chatter.
“MacGyver!” he scoffed, “What a stupid show.”
“Why do you say that?” one of his friends asked.
“It’s just so stupid!” the mocker explained, “I watched the first episode and never bothered with any more.”
“Well, what was so bad about it?” the boy who had taken an interest in my efforts asked.
“Dude!” the mocker complained, “Even the very beginning is stupid. You know with the music and the titles and stuff? They show this guy sticking a chewing gum wrapper in front of a laser beam and making it go in a different direction. I’m like, 'Come on! You stick something in front of a laser like that and your whole hand’ll get blown off!”
It was maybe four years later when I saw laser pointers at Costco. They were about the size of a thick ball-point pen and required six hearing-aid batteries. I bought one for about $40 at the time. Now they’re about the size of a pair of tweezers and use just one of those batteries – the 99-cent store sells them in the DIY hardware/tools section.
I hope this one doesn’t get listed in a thread like this, because I was being facetious:
I was working in the administrative office for a guy who owned a couple fitness clubs in San Diego. Typically, the office space I worked in was occupied by me, the bookkeeper, and sometimes the owner. More often than not, the owner would drive between his two clubs and take long detours in order to scout out potential locations for a third club. On this particular day, the boss was out scouting. His maintenance guy called me on the phone from one of the clubs and said, “Mikey called and said he wanted to know the size of this extra space at the club. He says he wants to advertise the space so someone can put a juice bar in here.”
“You disagree?” I asked while motioning for the bookkeeper to be quite while I put the call on the speaker-phone.
“Well, it’s his club.” The guy told me, “He can rent out a chunk if he wants, I guess.”
“Okay,” I agreed, “so what’s the problem?”
“Well I just don’t know how to measure it.” Jeff admitted.
“Oh, come on, Jeff,” I chided him, “You’re our handyman. You grab a tape measure and figure out the square footage.”
“Well that’s just it.” Jeff complained earnestly, “It – This space is more like a big triangle.”
“Oh!” my wicked side kicked in, “Well, that’s no big deal. Grab your tape measure and figure out the triangular footage.”
At that point, I could see the bookkeeper’s head rise. Even as the bookkeeper was turning to look at me with wide eyes, the maintenance guy was asking, “Yeah, but how do I do that?”
I grabbed the hand-set (thereby turning off the speaker and room microphone) just as the bookkeeper’s mouth was opening. I quickly told Jeff, “Y’know, let me look that up and I’ll get back to you.”
Then I hung up and the bookkeeper and I spent the next twenty minutes rolling and laughing. I think the plan got scuttled pretty quickly after that.
–G!
Never try to teach a pig to sing.
It’s a waste of time.
Plus it annoys the pig.
It’s not very nice to assume that the clerk is automatically the idiot.
Most people are worse at communicating clearly more than they are simply stupid. It’s the clerk’s job to reach understanding, They’re failing at their job. The way to break impasse is to back up, and re-approach the problem from a base of common understanding. Even if that’s back at the basic “You’re buying glasses and I’m selling glasses.”
Yes, there are entitled customer jerks who simply refuse to work with a clerk to achieve understanding. But the ball is certainly 99% in the clerk’s court at the point where your vignette ends.
I wasn’t there and you were. Perhaps the clerk is a saint and god’s gift to clarity while the customer is an ignorant or entitled clod. Both kinds exist in the world. Still, it’s the clerks job to fix the problem.
“I took one of those genetic tests off the internet and it said I was 5% Asian, so now I have chink-word privileges” - Said by an African-American guy at my work.
I know it’s suppose to be a joke but man, but the fact he actually said the full word instead of just saying “C-word” was very dumb.
Yeah, she wasn’t listening because she wanted what she wanted regardless of whether it was possible or not.
She reminded me of the woman who called the hotel to reserve a room. Fine, but she wanted a kitchenette. I told her we have no rooms with either kitchens or kitchenettes.
“But I want to stay there!”
“We certainly have availability but we don’t have rooms with kitchenettes.”
“But I want a kitchenette.”
“Then that would be a different hotel.”
“But I want to stay there.” And around and around we went.
I finally said “Ma’am, you can either stay here or stay some place with a kitchenette. You can’t do both.”
“But I want both!”
She finally hung up when I refused to give in and book her a mythical room.
Assuming “well, stupid clerk; it’s up to them to fix it” is simplistic and offensive when some people just don’t listen.
Don’t most coatings leave the lenses clear – unlike a tint? I don’t mean
to belabor the point. 
Depends on the coating.
The employee of the store disagrees with that statement.
You got me. I’m not interested in them so I don’t pay attention.
That reminds me of an incident a couple of decades ago.
We were staying in a very nice B&B in the North of England. I had booked it directly after finding it on TripAdvisor and it really did live up to all the five star reviews.
They only had five rooms and their website had pics and details of each one and I had to choose a room when I booked it. We were there for two nights and after checking in, we went for a walk. When we got back one of the two guys who ran it was ‘talking’ to a newly arrived guest.
Guest: “We need a bigger room, and the one you gave us is right up in the roof, my wife can’t manage the stairs.”
Host: "I am sorry madam, but you could see the room on our website before you booked it. It is “The Attic Room…”
Guest: “Can’t you move us?”
Host: “I would, but we are booked solid all this week.”
Guest: “At the prices you charge, I expected better service.” (they were quite expensive)
There is more back and forth along the same lines, including the threat of a poor review, all of which is dealt with calmly.
Guest: “If you can’t find us a better room, I want to cancel.”
Host: “That’s up to you, but you will still be charged for one night.”
The erstwhile guest eventually decamps, red in face and muttering darkly about legal action, solicitors etc.
Our host went out the back, presumably to punc a wall or something, but returned a short while later. I asked if this was a regular thing. “Fortunately not,” he said. “Just one or two every year.”
I’ve got loads of hotel stories. Like the person who called one night and needed a room. I told her sorry, we were sold out (true).
Her: I need a room!
Me: I’m sorry; we’re sold out.
Her: No, you don’t understand! I’ll take anything!
Me: All of our rooms are full. I’m sorry.
Her: You have Extra Special Room! I’ll take that!!
Me: Those are sold out, too.
Her: You don’t have anything??
Me: I don’t. I’m sorry.
Her: What about your Presidential Suite?
Me: Presidential Suite? We don’t have one.
Her: Yes!! Every hotel does.
Me: No. I’m sorry. We don’t. There’s no way to check you into a room tonight.
Her: Liar! and hangs up.
I guess I could have rented out the lobby bathroom…
I wouldn’t have known what he meant: the only “C-word” that would occur to me is the one with a U, an N, and a T.
I don’t see any way of making that joke without saying the actual word (which probably means the joke shouldn’t be made).