If you drank with a cracked lip, from a cracked cup, you would at once catch a disease as unmentionable as it was unpronounceable.
So I’m sitting there, minding my own business in the lobby and waiting for my job interview to start, and the security guard who looked like he was a week away from retirement starts telling me about how a keycard is needed to open each door, such that each employee’s card can only pop open doors they should be able to open; otherwise, there’s no getting in to a given area.
He then adds that all of that stops being relevant if the fire alarm goes off, at which point all of the doors obligingly snap open so people can get out — so, if you wanted to steal stuff, well, that’s what you’d do.
I still don’t know if he was recruiting me for a heist, or if that was part of the interview, or if he’s just a guy who says a bunch of things.
Oh, he didn’t work there, he just wandered in off the street five minutes before you showed up. It’s his retirement hobby.
The words “security guard” (in the context of this thread) reminded me of something. My first couple years of college, before changing majors, I was studying architecture. There were usually a lot of late nights in the architecture building with people working on their design projects. There was a security guard who worked at night, and while he was doing his rounds he’d always stop and talk to people about their projects and offer unsolicited advice on how to make them better. We called him the Midnight Critic. I can’t think of any specific bad advice he gave, it was just his general “you’re doing it wrong” attitude that we found hilarious.
I was a file clerk shortly after I finished college and before I found a job in my career. Part of my responsibilities was sorting some paperwork by pastel stickies on the forms. I was given a table in a poorly lit area in which to do this.
I’m colorblind. I told them I was colorblind. I could do the job with about 95% accuracy (which really wasn’t a big deal). If they printed the stickies with brighter colors or given me a frikkin’ lamp, I would be close to 100% accurate.
Oh, the advice part? I was told by a supervisor that I simply needed to “try harder”. Because being colorblind is all about determination and commitment to the task.
Once while eating lunch at work a coworker gave me her own weight loss advice out of nowhere
“An easy way to lose weight is to drench your food in hot sauce/spices. Then you’ll only eat a little bit, or you’ll eat it very slowly so you wind up feeling full sooner”
Which is odd because the few times I paid attention to what she was eating after that it was pretzels.
While with child (14th. alphabet letter disabled) I lost track of the people that told me arms over my head wrapped the cord about the baby’s throat. Disabled 14th. letter makes these posts complicated also stretches my creativity also my vocabulary. Back to my other device that I use for text/call.
How would this be offensive to anyone?
Coworker A: “you should marry an ugly woman; they make the best wives.”
Coworker B: “he should know.”
Speaking only for myself, that response gave off “Have you tried not being depressed?” vibes. Larry’s response, no yours.
Oh man, that reminds me of the most obnoxious advice I ever got. When I was a teenage, almost certainly suffering from depression in retrospect (oddly it was Herman Hesse’s bleak German novels that kept me from self-harm), my father was dating this woman who was just about a manic pixie dream girl, chirpy and smart and impossibly smug. Her favorite expression, when she saw how sad I was, was, “Misery is optional!”
I eventually responded, “Sure, you can always kill yourself,” at which point she stopped saying it to me.
I can’t honestly think of the worst. I get inundated with unsolicited advice in the YouTube comments and it all sort of blurs into a general miasma of low-level unnecessary interference.
One thing that does always get my hackles up just a little, is a cross-cultural thing; I believe in the USA, starting a piece of unsolicited advice with the words ‘You should…’ may be completely neutral and inoffensive, but because that norm isn’t so… normal here, it always comes across to my British English ears as being a more imperative instruction than it probably is in reality.
We do have ‘You should’ here, but, for example, it’s really common in the UK Highway Code, where there are two general levels of instruction:
‘You must’ (indicating that a thing is mandatory)
‘You should’ (indicating that, whilst not strictly mandatory, you are expected to do the thing if at all possible)
I probably would have gone with “So is thoughtlessly spouting off slogans you read on greeting cards,” but really, I like yours better.
Age 8. Catholic nun at my fathers funeral:
“It is better if you don’t cry”
Hence pushing me into semi-militant atheism at a tender age.
Fuck you, Sister Geraldine, you old crone. She’s dead now, of course.
Still makes me cry, 42 years later when I think about how fucking callous and insensitive that advice was. For the record, I did not cry, and have regretted it ever since.
I didn’t take any intoxicants until my 21st birthday, when I got blackout drunk. I hated it.
The first time I smoked cannabis, a few months later, I thought it was the best thing ever.
The second time I smoked weed, it was after a few beers, and I threw up.
I remember telling my roommate that nothing can cure me of a habit like vomit.
“Well, you had one good experience, and one bad experience. You need to try it a third time to see which one is typical.”
I smoked again, with no alcohol first.
And thus began a decades long addiction to drugs.
Flash way back to sometime in the late 60s. I’m sitting in the LA bus depot in my dress blues, waiting for a bus to the airport (as I recall it) to load up. A homeless woman shambled by and I didn’t pay much attention to her. She walked over the bus curb, reached down, and came up with a beer can, which she waved in my direction and declared “Still half full!” and took a swig. Then she bee-lined over to my bench and plopped down to enjoy her beverage. Suddenly, she’s poking me in the ribs and saying “Look at that! Look at that!” I looked where she was pointing and there was a well-dressed black man coming down the stairs carrying a briefcase. She looked at me knowingly and hissed “They’re natural born pimps, you know!”
Information that has served me well in life. 
Just remembered this incident while watching a repeat of Friday’s “On Patrol: Live”:
I see that crosswalk and its signals have since been removed.
I have no idea what you mean by “14th alphabet letter disabled”. Any reason why you’re being so obscure?
I always open the carton and jiggle my eggs when I buy them because sometimes they stick to the carton and they’ll break when you remove them. One day some guy comes up and warns me that occasionally the egg yolks will be solid as marbles.