Misunderstood
My other half rang a courier today to get a disc sent over to a client. The courier company asked what it was she was sending. "A computer disc", she said.
Half an hour later, 3 blokes in a van turned up. They looked a little disappointed to be handed a floppy disc: they were all prepared to shift a computer desk across London.
Have you been utterly misunderstood recently?
( , Thu 6 Oct 2005, 23:06)
My other half rang a courier today to get a disc sent over to a client. The courier company asked what it was she was sending. "A computer disc", she said.
Half an hour later, 3 blokes in a van turned up. They looked a little disappointed to be handed a floppy disc: they were all prepared to shift a computer desk across London.
Have you been utterly misunderstood recently?
( , Thu 6 Oct 2005, 23:06)
« Go Back
Learning to Read
I was a quiet kid, so naturally my parents suspected I might have some mental problems. Every year, I went to see a variety of therapists posing as speech therapists and so on.
In grade one, my parents were suspicious that I didn't know how to read. So they gave me a book about a boy and his dog, and made me read it.
Later, my mom asked me how it was. "Fine," I said curtly.
"Well, what happened in it?" she asked.
I didn't answer.
"How did it end?"
I was speechless.
"You didn't read the damn book, did you?" she accused me. Keep in mind I was too young to remember, so she doubtfully said this.
After I ran off crying, she picked up the book and looked through it. It was a story about a boy whose dog is hit by a car and he learns that everything dies. So my mom realised that I wasn't crying because I couldn't read, but because I'd just been taught about death. Nice parenting job there.
Apologies for the rapidity of these. I'm insatiable.
( , Fri 7 Oct 2005, 6:26, Reply)
I was a quiet kid, so naturally my parents suspected I might have some mental problems. Every year, I went to see a variety of therapists posing as speech therapists and so on.
In grade one, my parents were suspicious that I didn't know how to read. So they gave me a book about a boy and his dog, and made me read it.
Later, my mom asked me how it was. "Fine," I said curtly.
"Well, what happened in it?" she asked.
I didn't answer.
"How did it end?"
I was speechless.
"You didn't read the damn book, did you?" she accused me. Keep in mind I was too young to remember, so she doubtfully said this.
After I ran off crying, she picked up the book and looked through it. It was a story about a boy whose dog is hit by a car and he learns that everything dies. So my mom realised that I wasn't crying because I couldn't read, but because I'd just been taught about death. Nice parenting job there.
Apologies for the rapidity of these. I'm insatiable.
( , Fri 7 Oct 2005, 6:26, Reply)
« Go Back