About 3 months ago or so, I had a couple of my guy friends over for geeky endeavors. Since it was about feeding time, stomachs were rumbling all around. Not to fear, Pizza the Hutt is here! Since it is my abode and I was paying, I got to submit the phone call.
PG: Pizza Gal. The Amazing Order taker of Pizza the Hutt. (Or not)
Me: The ever geeky me! Fending off Hunger three pizzas at a time!
PG: Thank you for calling Pizza the Hutt, can you hold please?
PG: .... Can you hold please?
Me: Yes ..
PG: ... Can you hold???
Me: Yes, I can hold..
PG (exasperated sigh) what can I get for you?
All goes well for the order taking, until we get to my name.
Me: Thats Amby H-O-V-(horribly unspellable and unpronounceable name by anyone not related, and not my real first btw)
PG: So thats C-A-U-
Me: No, H as in House, O as in Owl, V as in Victor..
It doesn't get better from there so I finally give up. When the glorious sustenance arrives, we take a look at the name on the receipt. Chav(rest of my last name)
Not a horrible suck, but it was annoying and amusing at the same time. Which is also why I have included another suck
This was approximately 3 years ago. My geeky self was 7 months pregnant with the youngest geeklet. That whole nesting instinct was in full swing, so by that time I had accumulated quite a bit of items for donation. An old crib mattress as we already had one, 2 computer monitors that still worked but got replaced with higher end ones, and 12 or so boxes of the oldest geeklet's baby clothes I hated, clothes from my younger years I would never fit in again, and just general stuff we didn't need in our abode anymore.
The HubbyGeek and myself only had small cars and as the family-people with trucks wouldn't be able to help us for several weeks, with all this stuff cluttering up my living room, I decided to call the Thrift Store Military to see if they wanted to peddle these items at their place for funds.
Unfortunately for me, the lady informed me that they no longer picked up items. I could drop off the Items at their building or one of their many drop-trucks (which the building was closer, but I digress). I informed her that I was 7 months pregnant, there was no way I could LIFT half the boxes, much less fit them in my Car. She informed me that they would be able to help me unload once I got there. I reiterated the fact I could not fit it in my car.
Lady: What about your boyfriend...?
Me: (O.O)!!! (after a slight pause for me to digest this) My HUSBAND doesn't own a truck.
I then promptly ended the call and called the local shelter's thrift store. They were HAPPY to take the stuff if I could wait 5 days for their truck to get to me. Of course! Within the week I had a clean living room again.
Slightly sucky of me for pressing the issue but I was never rude about it. The end was the part that did and still pisses me off. I never mentioned a male-figure. What if I was a lesbian or I had a one night stand? Yes, I sound young but boyfriend? Granted if she would have assumed husband for someone without it would have been the same reaction.
Even though the closet of doom tells me its donation time once again and I can literally see the Thrift Store Military's building from my kitchen window now, I will be supporting my local shelter once again. Underworld hath no fury like a motherly geeky woman's scorn!