Embarrassing Stories

[Rue]

Hi!
I had been thinking of making this thread for a while, but thanks to my shift at work last night, I now have a real reason!
I really love embarrassing stories, and I also love to tell people how I embarrassed myself!

So please, tell me something embarrassing you did, and also come laugh at me.



I was lucky enough that this moment got caught on the cameras at work, and that my boss decided to rewind and watch it THREE times afterwards. :')

Watch me on the left.

http://imgur.com/a/11fsGUu

And, a recording of the second replay, which shows a longer reaction, ft. my coworkers making fun of me. Probably better unmuted

http://imgur.com/a/ku48Tfx

(The real embarrassing thing is actually just how unflattering the security camera footage is fgkjfhgkjfhg)

 

[Oegyein]

Aight, I think I told this story in the TUBM thread, but I'm rewriting here because it just needs to be said.

Back in high school (I can technically say that now) I did Visual Arts as a subject between 9th Grade and 10th. Once a year, the school would hold a weekend "open day" for people and parents to come in and check out what kind of school it was, which meant each class had to do some sort of "Exhibition" to display our, "Academic Prowess".

My teacher, who was an absolutely lovely human being btw, came up with this brilliant idea that sounds amazing on paper but turned out to be less than the Leonardo Da Vinci opus she had in mind.

Her plan was: to select two students, a boy and a girl, to parade around the school as "Living paintings". Essentially, Advertisements for a face painting shop. Instead of painting a butterfly or a tiger mask on our faces, she opted for something more...

Elaborate.

"Has anyone seen Archer?" She asked the class of 15-year-olds who had just gotten old enough to watch most horror films. Archer is a show I would PLEAD any 15 year old NOT to watch, but the rundown is that it's an animated sitcom designed to have a comic-book aesthetic. Our teacher's plan was to outline our faces with heavy, black, bold lines on our facial contours to make us look like comic-book characters, which was fine and dandy, except she decided to include a layer of "foundation" (or whatever that makeup you put under the rest of the makeup is called), which was so pale I looked like Frankenstein's monster.

Heck, when I actually started parading around the school, the Drama class asked me to play the ghost of Tybalt for three seconds because one of the girls was reciting Juliet's soliloquy.

(Btw, unrelated, but I'm a tad bit salty, because the girl who got the "living painting role" beside me actually looked alright in her paint =_=)

Anywho, this is where the embarrassing part comes in.

As I'm walking around the school grounds on mid-Saturday noon, a girl from the primary side (our school was Kindergarten to 12 grade) decided to waltz up to me and announce, while pointing directly at my face:

"You Look UGLY!"

And she skips away with this wide, obnoxious smile.

My immediate reaction was, "Why that little...." But then I stopped and thought, "Eh, It's just a kid. and besides, my facepaint does make me kinda look a bit ugly".

So the end of the day comes, and I'm back in the art room getting the paint removed with one of those alcohol wipes. I'm hungry and thirsty because I could not eat or drink anything with the paint, when lo and behold, who was sitting in the corner of the room getting a butterfly painted on her cheek?

THE GIRL FROM BEFORE.

As the last bits of my facepaint is wiped off of my face, she points at me, recognizing me instantly, and says:

"You STILL look ugly!"

She gets up and leaves. And I am hurt. ;-;

Now that's where the story SHOULD have ended.

Months later, my geography class is having a practical assessment task to raise funds for a charity. We were to sell any items or services, like a county fair or something, in order to raise this sweet moolah, so I opted for homemade cookies, A buck a pop.

Now. This is where the girl comes in.

She strides up to my shop/table/desk and shyly places 20 cents before me, and says:

"Can I please have a cookie?"

... No. I should have said No. She's insulted me twice, and doesn't even have enough money for half of one, so why should I give her one?

In the end, my sense of selflessness decides to come out of nowhere and say: "yeah sure". I decide to break off 20% of a cookie to match her 20% of the full price and hand it to her, expecting maybe an apology for the two times she called me ugly, or maybe even a promise to not do it again?

Instead, she looks at me and says "Thanks! By the way, you're still ugly!"

She skips away again, with her 20% of a cookie, and I lay defeated at my storefront.

The end ;-;

 

[Rue]

Oh my god, what a little brat!

There was this dude in my middle school who, on Halloween, grabbed and yanked on my hair as I walked by, and then said "Oh, I thought it was a wig." I still don't know if he was serious or just trying to be a jerk, but yeah, super embarrassing when you're like 12!

Side note: I absolutely love Archer

 

[Oegyein]

I still don't know if he was serious or just trying to be a jerk

As a male who was once 12, I can affirm you that even I have no idea. We're a bit of a Schrodinger's cat like that, we're both jerks and serious at the same time until someone opens the lid XD

 

[BleepBloopBeep]

As a male who was once 12, I can affirm you that even I have no idea. We're a bit of a Schrodinger's cat like that, we're both jerks and serious at the same time until someone opens the lid XD

Even then if someone asks why we do something, we go to vocalise a response and our brains desert us. We had a reason but we don't know what it was now.

 

[Jimothy]

Don't judge a man by how he acted in middle school; judge him by what he thinks of that person now.

 

[Rue]

So like. One time we were having this store meeting thing early Sunday morning at our next closest store. It was like 4 teams altogether.
My boss was opening at our store afterwards, and she didn't have a car at the time, so she finally accepted an ride from me to go drop her off at our store for her shift.
This was like 8:30 am ish in a mall parking lot before any stores opened, so there was basically no traffic.

So, figuring she would think I was weird if I still backed out of my parking space when there's no cars around, I decided to pull forward towards the exit.

Anyway for whatever reason I decided that it was good enough to look at the spot to my left (aka out my drivers side window) to see if there was those like parking block things dividing the spots. There wasn't.

So I pulled forward.

And right onto a PLANTER which ended right in front of my spot.

She starts freaking out. I start freaking out. I slowly back off without anything bad actually happen but I know she would probably never take a ride from me again.

And she says,
"I hope (district manager) saw that from the store! "

And when I drop her off at our store,
"You know as soon as I go in there I'm going to tell everyone what happened? "
"I knoooow "

I'm not a good storyteller so I hope that was even half as funny as the actual incident

 

[Oegyein]

I was wondering whether I should tell this one because it is a perfect example of how negligent I CAN be, but here goes.

As the eldest child, my parents would often give me their debit card when doing the groceries because of trust and responsibility and whatnot. Usually, I did well; I never bought anything else than what they told me to, I mostly bought exactly what they asked for with the exception of a few off-brands,
but one time I screwed up and I screwed up BAD.

On a typical shopping trip, I put the card in my back left pocket of my jeans. It had been a while since I last did a huge load of washing so I was wearing whatever was left and whatever was clean, and these pants I hadn't worn in ages. So I'm in the grocery store and the basket is halfway full of what's on the list, when I suddenly get the impulse to check my pocket....

And the card was gone.

The store is just down the road from my house so I walk back and forth from home to the shop several times just trying to see if maybe I left the card on the sidewalk, but with no luck. What's worse is that the card was bright red, so if some morally-questionable person happened to be in the market for a stolen bank card then they'd have little problem seeing in against the blaring white pavement.

I call my mom and tell her what happened and she begins to panic, and we spend 20 minutes in a frantic mess trying to figure out where the card is. Mom decides eventually that she should just lock the card for now so that no one can use it.

Interesting thing about debit card locks is that they're designed to block any use of the card for 15 days to prevent some rando just stealing one and going hog wild on a free shopping spree. Keep this in mind for what I'm about to tell you.

As I check my pants and its pockets for the umpteenth time, I slip my hand into the back RIGHT pocket and realize it's deeper than I thought. Curiously, I return my hand to the left pocket and push down, only to realize that these pants I hadn't worn in ages had pockets MUCH DEEPER than my usual pairs. As it turned out, I had accidentally short sheeted my back pocket.

Sure enough, there at the bottom lay a certain bright red debit card.

My First thought was "Woah! It was in my pocket the whole time!"

My second thought was "... It was in my pocket... the whole time".

When I told mother of my finest and latest discovery, she was less than pleased, for, I say once again, the card was now blocked for 15 days. So now we had a useless piece of plastic lying around the house until little more than two weeks and the family had me to blame. Moral of the story: Do your laundry =_=

The End.

 

[Rue]

Ohhhhhh my god @Oegyein something similar happened to me!!! But just less important than a debit card!

Last year I briefly took a job at Target and before my first day I lost my name tag. I was freaking out because, seriously, how was I going to look if I lost my name tag before my FIRST SHIFT?

I looked around my bedroom, my car, checked my purse. Nothing.

I had to go close at my other store (which is where I work again now) and would have to show up for training at Target at 6 am. I wasn't going to have time to look again.

My S.O. is much better at finding things than me and I told him so he tried to find it while I was at work. He texted asking me to check my purse. Told him I'd already checked it three times!

Even his mom (and maybe sister??) helped him look at home for it. No luck.

On my break I look in my purse again.

It's there.



Similarly I thought I left the key to our back gate in my backpack-called my S.O. asking him to grab it and unlock it for me one night. He cant find it. Gets the other key from his mom and opens the gate.

I get inside and check-wait it's not in my backpack where it was the last time?

Check my purse.

It's there.


Moral of the stories?
It's always in my purse.

 

[Oegyein]

Ohhhhhh my god @Oegyein something similar happened to me!!! But just less important than a debit card!

Last year I briefly took a job at Target and before my first day I lost my name tag. I was freaking out because, seriously, how was I going to look if I lost my name tag before my FIRST SHIFT?

I looked around my bedroom, my car, checked my purse. Nothing.

I had to go close at my other store (which is where I work again now) and would have to show up for training at Target at 6 am. I wasn't going to have time to look again.

My S.O. is much better at finding things than me and I told him so he tried to find it while I was at work. He texted asking me to check my purse. Told him I'd already checked it three times!

Even his mom (and maybe sister??) helped him look at home for it. No luck.

On my break I look in my purse again.

It's there.



Similarly I thought I left the key to our back gate in my backpack-called my S.O. asking him to grab it and unlock it for me one night. He cant find it. Gets the other key from his mom and opens the gate.

I get inside and check-wait it's not in my backpack where it was the last time?

Check my purse.

It's there.


Moral of the stories?
It's always in my purse.

I swear, I fear girls who carry purses/handbags cuz those things are bottomless. I'm 87.3333333% sure that y'all are secretly timelords and handbags are just leather TARDISes o-o

 

[BleepBloopBeep]

I broke my toe at work by kicking the steel toe cap of my boot whilst tripping over a ramp. Not my finest hour that.

 

[BleepBloopBeep]

MOAR EMBARESSMENT!!!

So I have another story from work but its not me who suffered looking like a fool.

Probably about three years ago, I was on a break at work when a colleague charged past me looking for a fire extinguisher. He'd been cutting down scrap metal so the company that came to collect it would take it. Whilst cutting it a fire had broken out in the bin, nothing that couldn't be sorted. About a minute or so after he charges back thrusting the extinguisher into my chest telling me to sort the fire out.

He'd used a powder extinguisher but instead of holding the nozzle, he held the top like a CO2 one and hit himself in the eye with the hose/nozzle. Then we had to clean the entire workshop because powder extinguishers make a huge mess. YAY CLEANING!!!

 

[Rue]

Don't mind me I'm just over here thinking about the time the walmart employee caught me climbing onto the fridge shelf to try and reach a gallon of milk.

And now I'm also thinking of all the times I've had to ask or get help to reach the top shelf.

 

[BleepBloopBeep]

And now I'm also thinking of all the times I've had to ask or get help to reach the top shelf.

Whenever someone asks you to do that it always looks like they've died inside. Especially since sometimes you see the appraisal process play out, when I recognise it I just offer to help now.

 

[Oegyein]

--STORY TIME--

I've never been a fan of sports; especially not rugby, as is popular in England, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, and numerous other places. Nowadays, I don't care for rugby teams in the slightest, but having said this, little Oegyein did cheer on one sports team back in, say, 2009.

They were the most underdoggish of underdogs in the history of underdogs; the only people who cheered them on were either too young to comprehend what was going on (Le Moi) or born and raised in their home town, but I cheered this team on for no other reason than the fact that no one else did.

I'll admit, I probably would have stopped caring about the team sooner if my bro didn't pull a brutus and decide to root for the other team; the team that had been consistently winning for years.

My dad, a great guy who ran his own IT company, one day decided to sponsor my lost-cause of a team, meaning 3 things:

1. I got a tonne of their paraphernalia, which now lies somewhere in a box in the garage.

2. I got a birthday phone call from their top player. He was Fijian but sounded uncannily like Yogi Bear.

3. I got to run onto the field with the team on one of their games, wearing a signed jersey.

And number 3 is where the story REALLY starts.

A thing about me is that I'm super sensitive to sights, smells, sounds, etc, and can get mild sensory overload. Nothing serious, but enough to dazzle me like a deer in the headlights, forcing me into daydreaming and spacing out. In the sweaty hall where the team was lining up to go out, I sat just beside their single-file line, taking in the numerous sights and sounds. Directly above me, there was a bleacher filled with screaming fans, flickering discount ceiling lights, and the team mascot, Sparky, sitting without his costume head-on, smoking a cigarette before running out in full costume.

Then and there, I decided to start daydreaming, unaware of the fact that the team was already now on the field. The couple of other kids that were also doing it had already left, and I had no lead to follow. The itinerary manager noticed me and started yelling at me (Mostly to compete with the screaming bleachers, but also out of frustration) to get out there already, so I did the first thing that came to my mind:

I ran out alone onto the empty field, watched by about a thousand football enthusiasts, and made a beeline for the opposite side of the field, thinking there must be an exit through the other door.

Unbeknownst to me, I was supposed to walk out the door with the team, but turn sharply right, off-camera, and back into the stands; I was never supposed to enter the field itself.

So though I care not for the act of throwing oddly shaped balls and slamming them into designated areas on a field for "Tries", I recall fondly with embarrassment on the time I was never supposed to do something, but totally did anyway.

 

[Val]

Does this mean that somewhere, somehow, there is footage of little Oegyyein running in the middle of a rugby field?

 

[Oegyein]

 

[BleepBloopBeep]

I remember going to an early FA Cup match (1st or 2nd round) at Walsall FC against Northampton. The family were invited because my brothers football team were the ball boys for the game. My sister, a teenager at the time and not at all interested was texting on her phone when a player took a corner and 'overhit' would put it lightly. It travelled the width of the field and into the stands hitting my sister in the face.

I laughed, a lot.

 

[BleepBloopBeep]

Well you guys enjoy being made of rainbows and rubber bands for a while longer. Seriously I miss those recovery powers, they fade so fast.

So I felt this statement could do with some elaboration, and feel this is probably the place to do it. As with so many good stories this one starts with a trip in snowy weather to a computer/white goods store. My brother had just passed his driving test, but had yet to buy a car, so he'd asked for a lift and I obliged like a good older brother would. We'd been talking about driving in the snow, how to deal with it best, all that jazz.

At some point whilst in the store the topic of conversation wondered to our history with motorbikes, more specifically crashing them. I've had three crashes my brother just the one (We were not at fault for any of them). We had started to talk about two incidents in particular; his accident and my 3rd accident that made me give up on bikes completely. My brother had gone into the side of an SUV that pulled out on him at a roundabout, bounced off injuring his hip and shoulder, nothing broken no long term damage. My crash was similar in that an SUV pulled out of a junction... about 10ft infront of me, whilst I was doing 40mph. I ended up on my back about 20m down the road after taking out two windows on my way over/across the roof of the car, I ended up needing physio on my knee for soft tissue damage but I'm alive and didn't break anything, so hey all's well.

On our way to the till we were laughing and joking about the "Oh shoot" moment, when you know there's nothing left to do, you're going to crash, it will hurt. The girl behind the counter notices we're in high spirits and asks us whats so funny, to which my brother replies "we're just laughing at our motorcycle accidents". I have never seen someone that, I want to say confused/uneasy before or since. I think we broke her tbqh.

 

[Oegyein]

As per @Avidro's "tenterhooks", here is the tale of the Crazy chicken lady. Honestly, I can't believe I haven't already told this tale here yet.

I hadn't been working at the petfood store for long, when my co-workers were discussing some lady whose health seemed to be a concern. Due to my querying, they shared with me three legends of the store. The first two were relatively normal;

There was a lady, a customer, who nearly died from a flea infestation as a result of owning too many cats.

There was a man who entered the store in a suit, and with it two 90's secret agent style briefcases which he placed atop the counter, undid the latches, and revealed the snakes within.

Then finally, was a tale so grim and visceral they refused to divulge little more than two (and a half) words; "Pre-plucked chickens".

Who this lady was remained a mystery...

... UNTIL ONE DAY!

I was the only dude rostered on that day. Most of my job requires heavy lifting and, though it provided somewhat of an ego boost, I would soon hate that I was given the chore of loading two 25kg bags onto a cart to take to a regular order around the corner, all because "I was the only one strong enough".

The house had an intercom out front, which was answered by a sweet Italian lady who told me to make the precious cargo around the side gate.

The moment I set foot into her backyard, I was assaulted by the rancid smell of chicken turds, concentrated in the corner where a large coup have housing to;

PRE PLUCKED CHICKENS.

Not any old plucked chickens though, a bunch of naked birds would be something I could deal with. What I saw was a flock of chickens half plucked to the point it looked like something out of a horror film. As opposed to the fat necks chickens usually seem to have, one could see the bony length which connected their burton-esque heads to their zombified bodies.

If you've ever seen KFC wings, fatherless chicken wings look nothing like that. Under those feathers is a row of spines, which I had the misfortune of seeing. The smell added to he sight made me feel sick, but...

As I mentioned, this is an old lady. The job included filling her feed bins with the corn and wheat.

So as I stood there, knee deep in chicken feces filling a plastic bin, the hens started to get brave as the gathered around my legs. In a rushed fashion resulting from desire to get out of their, I finished the first bag and threw it's empty husk down, only o send a pile of crap flying upwards towards me.

When I finally finished the non and headed back, everyone avoided my gaze. I knew, that they knew where they were sending me. And I knew that the "you're the only guy" sentiment was utter bull.