Share your fun and funny life stories with us

[Zorba]

What about when their off-the-clock business starts effecting the other business? Staying with the hooker theme, for the internal side, do you honestly think a hooker wouldn't be trying to sell "services" to other employees? Can you see lots of potential issues there? I once worked for a business who favored a particular type of staff, some of whom (not all) really blurred that particular line. Some of those "team members" were a little lose with their moral, ethics and whatever else you can think of. It wasn't uncommon for particular individuals to bring in drama and other issues, the itchy-scratchy kind. Those simple little events always had a noticeable effect on the employees in general. I once witnessed a large knife get flung at someone over some dumbassery like above.

View attachment 673202

Edit; BTW, if you worked for that company, you signed an agreement sayin in part that you are not currently and would not be a stripper or "mattress-actress" during employment.

On the external side, depending on the business, a hooker employee could be a PR nightmare. As a business owner providing professional services, but not the hooker kind , I personally would not hire someone like that simply because of the PR optics, I wouldn't even need to get into the other issues.

"Guilty until proven innocent." And I don't sign agreements with anyone about my off the clock activities.

Sorry, doesn't play here - off the clock is off the clock. If they misbehave on the clock, fire them (and their customers too). Otherwise, BUTT OUT.

 

[BlueC]

"Guilty until proven innocent." And I don't sign agreements with anyone about my off the clock activities.

Sorry, doesn't play here - off the clock is off the clock. If they misbehave on the clock, fire them (and their customers too). Otherwise, BUTT OUT.

I understand your point, but like Squatch said earlier, once I moved up in the business world things looked a little different than they did when I was on the bottom. I even have to be conscious of the vehicle I drive for work and my general appearance. Like Squatch also said, just because company A isn't a fit for person X doesn't mean that company B won't hire them.

 

[Zorba]

I understand your point, but like Squatch said earlier, once I moved up in the business world things looked a little different than they did when I was on the bottom. I even have to be conscious of the vehicle I drive for work and my general appearance. Like Squatch also said, just because company A isn't a fit for person X doesn't mean that company B won't hire them.

Unethical as Hell. Yea, I've heard the "correct vehicle" bullshit before, but I thought that had died a well deserved death no later than about 1955 - but I guess I was wrong. 8 hours work for 8 hours pay, and the relationship ENDS THERE.

Like I say in the "I don't want to be here anymore" thread - We are SO fucking regimented in this country. Fortunately, my second/last employer - who I was with far longer than my first - was pretty darn ethical overall. They lost their ethics during COVID from what I'm hearing, but treated me well while I worked for them. Never the less, I did have to have a "knock down and drag out" fight with them over work schedules - they were trying to implement an abomination called "9/80" (google it) that flat would NOT have worked for me. I had a lot of discussions about EIGHT HOUR WORKDAYS with the HR guy (who was my friend, but stuck in the middle). They did eventually implement it, but they made me exempt. As much as I loved working there, I would have walked over it, and they knew it. About 2/3rds of the employees were all for it, the other third either didn't care, or hated it. At least one other employee quit over it, and I don't blame him.

 

[lBasket]

Maybe you'll like Colorado. They seem to love prostitutes here just as much as you

 

[LukesfirstJeep]

Unethical as Hell. Yea, I've heard the "correct vehicle" bullshit before, but I thought that had died a well deserved death no later than about 1955 - but I guess I was wrong. 8 hours work for 8 hours pay, and the relationship ENDS THERE.

Like I say in the "I don't want to be here anymore" thread - We are SO fucking regimented in this country. Fortunately, my second/last employer - who I was with far longer than my first - was pretty darn ethical overall. They lost their ethics during COVID from what I'm hearing, but treated me well while I worked for them. Never the less, I did have to have a "knock down and drag out" fight with them over work schedules - they were trying to implement an abomination called "9/80" (google it) that flat would NOT have worked for me. I had a lot of discussions about EIGHT HOUR WORKDAYS with the HR guy (who was my friend, but stuck in the middle). They did eventually implement it, but they made me exempt. As much as I loved working there, I would have walked over it, and they knew it. About 2/3rds of the employees were all for it, the other third either didn't care, or hated it. At least one other employee quit over it, and I don't blame him.

If your salaried, it means free overtime. You may be expected to work more than 8 hours. I interviewed for a job 35+ years ago. The job was at a satellite plant, and the interviewer was from the home office. He was on special duty at the satellite plant until he could find a replacement.

During the interview, he kept saying that I would be working Mon through Fri, and at least a half a day on Saturday. I asked for clarification. Do you mean working Saturdays until a certain project was completed? No, the job was 6 days a week, every week. That pretty much ended the interview.

 

[Squatch]

I even have to be conscious of the vehicle I drive for work and my general appearance.

We received a company memo from one of the higher-ups in management at our California branch that said we should be mindful of the general condition and cleanliness of our vehicles, as when parked on the company's property, they too represented the type of employees that worked there. Well, I was having none of that. I drafted up an email and sent it directly to the author of the memo. I introduced myself, and described my vehicle as something that I had kept out of the wrecking yard, and that it had more colors on it than a patchwork quilt, and Shredded Wheat for interior. I also told him that I was quite proud of my "rescue" (a '66 Rambler Classic 2-door hardtop, btw). I then went on to describe my commitment to the company, and that I had dedicated 17 years of my life (at that point) to it, and that I was offended that he would go so far as to insinuate that the overall appearance of any vehicle would "make the man". A couple of days later I received a response from him with an apology, stating that he could understand where I was coming from, and for me to disregard the memo. And I most certainly did. Eventually, I drove a Gremlin that had been T-boned so hard that it shattered the windows, and it had garbage bags and towels covering the openings. It was cool. Cool, cool, cool!

 

[sab]

Wow, the spirit of this thread went from positive and uplifting to quite the opposite while I wasn't paying attention. We already have a piss and moan thread. I'm gonna post a couple very weak funny life stories to try to get this thread back on track. Since it's weak, I'm setting the bar very low. Please, top these stories, fellers! They're both about losing things...

#1 - The Troubling Tumbler Tail
You have to understand the layout of our property for this story to make sense. We have four buildings on our property: the house, the attached garage, a well tank house and tractor storage building, and the shop. About two years ago on a hot summer day, I took a covered tumbler of water with me out to the shop for the day. At the end of the day, I got back to the house, and my wife said, "where's the glass you left with?" It was her favorite tumbler (big mistake!) I said, "oh, I must have left it in the shop. I'll go get it." I scoured that darn shop for days and couldn't find it.

Realizing that I'd been in all four buildings on the day it went missing, a few days later, I scoured the well tank house and the garage, too, and couldn't find it. I walked everywhere on the property where I could have possible been that day. It was gone - Poof! Mrs. sab and I wrote it off. Just another tale of a feller who's gettin' old misplacing something. Two years passed by, and the tumber had been forgotten.

About a month ago, my wife came in the house with a huge smile on her face and her hands behind her back. "Guess what I found today?" I had no idea. That tumbler was purged from my memory long ago. Slowly, she moved her hand from behind her back, revealing that missing tumbler - with some water still in it! It was on a shelf in our messy garage, out of sight because I temporarily set it in a place where you had to stand in the corner of the garage to see it! Sheesh.

#2 - The Great Stormy Kromer Mystery
This story is about the loss of a favorite wet winter weather cap. It's a waxed cotton Stormy Kromer cap (Google it ). Back in September 2024, I left my job and took a few months off before starting another one. I concentrated on the LJ build for most of that time, but we also took a trip back home to Wisconsin and over the Mackinac Bridge to visit my brother and his family in Traverse City, MI. Being October, I wore this Stormy Kromer cap because October weather in Wisconsin/Michigan is the perfect use case for this hat.

That fall and winter was fairly mild in Texas, so I didn't even think about it until a February cold snap appeared. I couldn't find that darn hat! Looked everywhere. Then I remembered that I had it with me on that Wisconsin and Michigan trip months back, but I honestly couldn't remember unpacking it upon our return. We checked every nook and cranny of the car, we checked the bags we used for that trip, and I finally called my Mother, Brother, and sister, all of whose houses we visited on that trip, and put out a BOLO for my beloved hat. "Not here," Mom said. "Not here, either," Sis said. "Nor here," said my brother. "Shoot," said I, "I love that hat!" "Don't worry, it'll turn up," said Mrs. sab. Fast forward many months. Missing that hat and with winter looming, I bought a replacement, which wasn't easy to find because Stormy Kromer makes hats in batches.

Shortly after buying the replacement, I was assisting an elderly neighbor with some maintenance issues at his house. I look up on his hat rack, and there's a rare waxed cotton Stormy Kromer hat, size 7-1/4 - my size. "Johnny, where'd you get that hat?" "Well, I'm not sure. I think someone gave it to me or left it here," said Johnny. "Well, I think it's my hat. I lost one exactly like it a year ago, and boy, have I missed it!" Johnny was kind enough to let me keep it. We're not 100% sure it's mine, but it would be a crazy coincidence if it weren't. I help him out all the time, and I've worn it over to his place often.

And that's how I ended up with two waxed cotton Stormy Kromer, size 7-1/4 hats on my hat rack!

Listen up - if y'all don't chime in with better stories, you'll force me to tell you how it happened that Johnny came to Sunday dinner at our place one time wearing a shirt jacket just like mine (wait, that is my shirt jacket - it's got the patch Mrs. sab applied for me)...

My name is sab, and I'm losing my mind

 

[tworley]

This current trend of your employer owning you 24/7/365 is bullshit.

100%

I have no problem working 40, 50, 60, 70 hrs if a project needs it. But once I am clocked out for the day or for the weekend/vacation, I am not looking at emails or returning phone calls. We'll talk later.

 

[tworley]

If your salaried, it means free overtime. You may be expected to work more than 8 hours.

My current position is salaried. But the end of year bonus (which can be pretty healthy) is based on hrs you work above 2,080. Which is probably pretty standard I guess. Over the course of a year, my average might be 45 hrs. But within that year, I might have a couple 60 hr weeks. Its a balancing act.

 

[Zorba]

Maybe you'll like Colorado. They seem to love prostitutes here just as much as you

Or maybe, just maybe, someone has enough ethics to realize that what happens between consenting adults is their own business.

 

[tworley]

We received a company memo from one of the higher-ups in management at our California branch that said we should be mindful of the general condition and cleanliness of our vehicles, as when parked on the company's property, they too represented the type of employees that worked there. Well, I was having none of that. I drafted up an email and sent it directly to the author of the memo. I introduced myself, and described my vehicle as something that I had kept out of the wrecking yard, and that it had more colors on it than a patchwork quilt, and Shredded Wheat for interior. I also told him that I was quite proud of my "rescue" (a '66 Rambler Classic 2-door hardtop, btw). I then went on to describe my commitment to the company, and that I had dedicated 17 years of my life (at that point) to it, and that I was offended that he would go so far as to insinuate that the overall appearance of any vehicle would "make the man". A couple of days later I received a response from him with an apology, stating that he could understand where I was coming from, and for me to disregard the memo. And I most certainly did. Eventually, I drove a Gremlin that had been T-boned so hard that it shattered the windows, and it had garbage bags and towels covering the openings. It was cool. Cool, cool, cool!

I wear hats when I am in the field. I had one particular hat that was a grungy, gross looking thing with sweat and dirt marks all over it. My supervisor at the time had made some sort of snide remark that I need to look more presentable or clients wont hire us. A coworker of mine was quick to jump in saying "if that hat doesnt tell you he's a hardworker for us than maybe you should rethink what you're wearing". I never heard anything more from the supervisor after that!

 

[lBasket]

Or maybe, just maybe, someone has enough ethics to realize that what happens between consenting adults is their own business.

Maybe some of us realize degeneracy doesn't stop like the flip of a switch when you walk through a door. Keep that away from me

 

[Squatch]

Wow, the spirit of this thread went from positive and uplifting to quite the opposite while I wasn't paying attention. We already have a piss and moan thread.

This is what happens when you introduce hookers into the thread!

 

[Zorba]

Maybe some of us realize degeneracy doesn't stop like the flip of a switch when you walk through a door. Keep that away from me

Ah yes, Mrs. Grundy and the other moralists rear their ugly heads. Choose your Slavery America, choose your Slavery.

 

[Squatch]

Okay, here's one that I still share with my friends.

Back when I was a lad of 16, I had a girlfriend with the last name of "Packard". How could I resist? Anyways, one day I ended-up at her house. Now, I cannot recall if her parents were there when I arrived and they were foolish enough to leave us alone, or if they were gone when I got there. Dunno. Doesn't matter. Anyway, Lady Packard and I ended up in her bedroom, doing things that unchaperoned teenagers might do when left to their own devices.

We had been occupied for a little over an hour when suddenly she jumps out of bed with this horrified look on her face. "Did you hear that?!?" I hadn't. She looked around the corner and out through the huge picture window in the living room and proclaimed "Oh, shit! My folks are home!" And with that, she gathered up her clothes and made a mad dash for the bathroom, leaving an extremely underdressed Squatch in her bed. Crap!

With a full appreciation for the situation, I quickly got dressed and looked around the corner and out the picture window of the living room. Her folks were just getting out of their van, and were gathering up stuff from within it. I hit the floor on all fours, and proceeded to crawl my way under the picture window and over to the couch, whereupon I laid down on it, and pulled the afghan that was on the back of the sofa down over me.

My partner in crime had just sat down in the recliner when her folks walked in. The mom immediately started sharing about how their picnic went, when she suddenly stopped and said "Mark...you look like hell. Are you feeling alright?" Seizing the opportunity, I told Mrs. P that I was feeling lousy, and that I might be coming down with something. She walked over and put her hand on my forehead and said "You're burning up, and your face is all red. Let me get you something for that." And off she went into the kitchen. She returned with a glass of water and some pills. I have no idea what they were, and to be honest, it really wouldn't have mattered at that point. I would've swallowed Midol if I thought it would get me out of this fix!

So, the whole time I was there, my girlfriend is choking down laughter, and just going along with it all, adding her own bits and pieces to the story. As far as I know, they never really did catch on to the situation. Maybe they bought our story, or maybe they just weren't the swiftest people in the world. All I know is that the gal and I dated for a few more months before moving on to other adventures.

Oh, and there were no hookers involved in this story...

 

[suicideking]

The hooker story made me remember that one of my previous jobs (ISP) there was a group of ex porn stars. Of course, one of my co-workers found a video of the VP's assistant which got circulated to some degree amongst the tech support staff. After that, I had a difficult time paying attention to her when she was speaking.

 

[Squatch]

The hooker story made me remember that one of my previous jobs (ISP) there was a group of ex porn stars. Of course, one of my co-workers found a video of the VP's assistant which got circulated to some degree amongst the tech support staff. After that, I had a difficult time paying attention to her when she was speaking.

We also ended up with a dominatrix working there, but she was more discrete about her second job. Takes all kinds, ya know?

 

[BlueC]

Back when I was a lad of 16, I had a girlfriend with the last name of "Packard". How could I resist? Anyways, one day I ended-up at her house. Now, I cannot recall if her parents were there when I arrived and they were foolish enough to leave us alone, or if they were gone when I got there. Dunno. Doesn't matter. Anyway, Lady Packard and I ended up in her bedroom, doing things that unchaperoned teenagers might do when left to their own devices.

We had been occupied for a little over an hour when suddenly she jumps out of bed with this horrified look on her face. "Did you hear that?!?" I hadn't. She looked around the corner and out through the huge picture window in the living room and proclaimed "Oh, shit! My folks are home!" And with that, she gathered up her clothes and made a mad dash for the bathroom, leaving an extremely underdressed Squatch in her bed. Crap!

With a full appreciation for the situation, I quickly got dressed and looked around the corner and out the picture window of the living room. Her folks were just getting out of their van, and were gathering up stuff from within it. I hit the floor on all fours, and proceeded to crawl my way under the picture window and over to the couch, whereupon I laid down on it, and pulled the afghan that was on the back of the sofa down over me.

Now that story sounds too familiar, too personal. I may have had a similar experience at that age. I haven't thought of that event in years. The main difference is that we got zero warning from the surprise visitor, and we didn't have a blanket to hide under, so we went with the "just don't move, their eyesight is based on movement" theory. Something tells me that wasn't accurate.

 

[tworley]

Maybe not funny, but definitely funny in hindsight with my family.

My folks own a cabin in Wyoming. About a mile away there’s a river I’ve fished since I was a kid. When I was around 10–12 years old, I left around 1–2pm and told my parents I was going fishing, totally normal. I’d done it a hundred times. That day though, for some reason, I decided to go a little farther upstream than usual. I found better fishing holes and was catching bigger trout that I had ever before on this river.

So I keep going; climbing rocks, working around deep cuts, at one point I had to climb way up the mountainside just to get around a section of the river. Eventually, I realized how far I'd actually come and just how difficult it would be to turn around. I knew where I was the whole time. I also knew that a few miles upstream there was a cowboy camp and if I could make it there, I could take a dirt road back to the main road and just walk back to the cabin. So, thats what I decided to do.

Hours later, I’m walking down the main dirt road, still 4–5 miles from the cabin, when a sheriff’s vehicle pulls up. He rolls down his window and says,
“Are you Tyler?”

I said, “Yeah…”

He says, “Your parents are looking for you. Hop in and I'll take you back.” So I hop in and when we get to the cabin, my parents were in tears thinking I had slipped and drowned. They called the sheriffs office and my dad was soaked from the waist down, he had been walking through the river kicking around trying to find my body. Eventually the panic died down and they were stoked when I unloaded about ten 12-inch trout onto the table.

 

[Squatch]

Maybe not funny, but definitely funny in hindsight with my family.

My folks own a cabin in Wyoming. About a mile away there’s a river I’ve fished since I was a kid. When I was around 10–12 years old, I left around 1–2pm and told my parents I was going fishing, totally normal. I’d done it a hundred times. That day though, for some reason, I decided to go a little farther upstream than usual. I found better fishing holes and was catching bigger trout that I had ever before on this river.

So I keep going; climbing rocks, working around deep cuts, at one point I had to climb way up the mountainside just to get around a section of the river. Eventually, I realized how far I'd actually come and just how difficult it would be to turn around. I knew where I was the whole time. I also knew that a few miles upstream there was a cowboy camp and if I could make it there, I could take a dirt road back to the main road and just walk back to the cabin. So, thats what I decided to do.

Hours later, I’m walking down the main dirt road, still 4–5 miles from the cabin, when a sheriff’s vehicle pulls up. He rolls down his window and says,
“Are you Tyler?”

I said, “Yeah…”

He says, “Your parents are looking for you. Hop in and I'll take you back.” So I hop in and when we get to the cabin, my parents were in tears thinking I had slipped and drowned. They called the sheriffs office and my dad was soaked from the waist down, he had been walking through the river kicking around trying to find my body. Eventually the panic died down and they were stoked when I unloaded about ten 12-inch trout onto the table.

Dude! That's one helluva story! I fear that my parents would've whupped my ass before telling me how happy they were to see me. The part about your dad walking in the water...wow! Kinda hit me right in the feels, ya know? Good story, man. Good story.