My ex–best friend told me that she had needed to buy another new vacuum cleaner, which was the third that month. I asked her what was wrong with it and she said, ‘It’s not picking things up anymore!’ So I asked if she had dumped out the container. She didn’t know that was a thing.
My Mom and I moved in with my Grandparents when I was 10 years old. You know, old enough to have learned how to do some basic chores, and certainly old enough to be taught more. Unfortunately my Grandmother, God bless her, was not only terrified of fire (her Mother had a problem with accidentally setting things on fire) but she was also a neat freak that insisted on doing everything herself so it was done right.
My Mom married my (step)Dad when I was 14 years old, and we moved in to a house together as a family. He was horrified to learn that, at nearly 15 years old, I did not know how to wash and dry my own clothes, iron, load a dishwasher, or even use the stove. I could use the oven because I baked with my other Grandmother when I visited, but I had never used the stove top. There are many more things he had to teach me, but those were the things that really had him worried about my ability to care for myself as an adult. It wasn’t that my Grandmother didn’t want me to be able to care for myself. Her fears were just so intense that she didn’t think about how not knowing these basic skills would effect me later in life. I am forever grateful to my Dad for being the Dad I needed because God knows the biological one couldn’t be bothered. Mom couldn’t overrule her own Mother when we lived with her and by the time she married Dad she was sleeping at the hospital five nights a week because her schedule was so insane. I dont even want to think about who I would be if I hadn’t had him to teach me, but I’m pretty sure I would have had to live off of chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and take out through my 20s if it weren’t for him. I probably would’ve smelled pretty bad from the lack of clean clothes too.
In my honors dorm at Purdue there was a Computer Science major named Jeffrey. He was well known because his parents would stop by every week to pick up his laundry and bring him a case of Fiji water with expensive groceries. His dad was a doctor. We commented on Jeffrey’s long gross toenails and how he needs to cut them. He told us they are long because his mom hasn’t visited in weeks and she was the one who cut them. His mother cut her 19 year old sons toenails. Disgusting. We had to give him a lesson on it.
My housemate (24 year old postgrad student) not realising that
You needed to preheat an oven.
You needed to defrost frozen meat before cooking it.
You need to use a baking tray.
After I caught her lining the bottom of our oven with frozen chicken drumsticks.
My ex and I were cooking together and one of the pans got too hot, and we had a minor grease fire.
She grabbed a bag of flour.
As tempted as I was to slap it out of her hands, I didn’t want to aerate a bunch of flour next to a grease fire, so I grabbed it with both hands and forced it (and her, because she wouldn’t let go) over to the countertop, and then dropped the lid on the pan.
I asked her what her logic was, and she said “well, you’re supposed to put baking soda on a grease fire and not water, right?”.
“Yes. Why did you try to use flour?”
“What’s the difference? They’re both white powder.”
My roommate tried to make pasta by putting a pot on the stove, pouring the noodles in without adding water, and turning on the stove. Then she asked me, ‘How come these aren’t getting soft like when my mom makes them?
My best friend was sleeping with a new guy. She said she wasn’t sure of his sexual history but she was on birth control to prevent STDs. I was like, ‘Umm…’
Ooohhh I got one. I work as an EMT for a private company, so we mostly deal with nursing homes and the elderly. One day when I was about 6-8 months in, I got assigned a partner who was in my orientation class. He was a little older than me at the time, like mid 20’s, but he seemed a little childish. “Maybe he’s just sheltered, I think to myself.”
Anyways, we got a patient I’ve had a few times before. She was a sweet, little old lady with COPD and CHF living at an assisted living. Call was for pneumonia. She’s prone to this stuff so it wasnt a huge deal, slap her on oxygen and keep her sitting up til we get to the hospital. The first red flag though, was this kid didn’t know anything. He didnt know how to take a blood pressure. He couldn’t find the medical history or medication on the paperwork (which is clearly labeled). He didn’t even push the stretcher, just walked next to it with a hand on it. When I asked him about all that, he said “My partners usually do that for me.”
So, I put her on an oxygen mask and sit her all the way up, mildly agitated. I tell myself it’s just one shift with this kid. He’s in the back with her and I tell him to just switch the oxygen from the bag (which is a small tank) to the main tank (which is huge) because with the amount of oxygen we’re giving her, the bag will run out not even halfway before the hospital. It’s about 25 minutes, which normally wouldn’t be a huge deal. But when we pull up to the hospital and I open the back doors, I’m fucking shook. The oxygen mask isnt inflated (meaning she isnt getting oxygen), shes pale as shit, I can literally see her accessory muscles moving, struggling to breathe. And this kid was sitting behind her, with a clueless half smile on his face, looks at me and says “The main tank is broken, so I left her on the bag.” This women, who needs oxygen without pneumonia, was barely breathing for at LEAST 15 minutes. And this fucking idiot didnt even check. We take her into the hospital. I ask him to find an oxygen tank while explain to this women’s daughter what happened. He says he doesn’t know where to look. I fucking find it and told him to talk to the daughter.
When it’s all said and done, I check to see what’s broken. He didn’t turn on the tank.
TL;DR EMT partner nearly kills a patient because he didn’t know he had to open the oxygen tank to get oxygen to come out.
Girl I went to HS with: “why do people say a quarter of an hour? Like what does that even mean?”
Me: “it’s 15 minutes. Because 15 is a fourth of 60, so that’s a quarter of an hour”
Her: looking at me like I’m a f**king idiot “But a quarter is 25…”
My friend in college once lamented, ‘Ugh. I have to pee and I just put a tampon in like five minutes ago. I hate having to pull them out dry.’ Her mother taught her that there is only one hole down there and peeing with a tampon in isn’t possible.