We’ve all been there. These people share their upmost awkward moments they endured in public. Yikes! Content has been edited for clarity purposes.
Why Would He Do That?
“I was caught and fired. I was 18 years old and it was my first time working in a restaurant. I had finally scored my teenaged dream job; a Hooters-like establishment, only a few threads away from being considered a night club.
I love pranks. And here came the problem.
After working there for a few months, I was asked to train another person to do the skillfull, critical and often painful duties a busboy regularly endures. Now, a proud member of the food and service industry, I felt it was my civic duty to initiate him into this new found fraternity and play a welcoming little prank on him. You know, to break the ice.
New Guy: ‘What can I do next?’
Me: ‘Uhhhm… stack those plates up over there and then fill that bucket up with ice.’
I admired my commanding boss voice.
‘You do know where the ice machine is right?’ I asked him.
He nodded and headed for the plates. This was my chance. I took off to the back of the house, passing by the lonely realm where the dishwasher dispaired. Casually, I crept past the angry cooks and came whistling up to the ice machine. After pausing and looking both ways suspiciously, I opened it up and crawled in, cracking some joints as I bent uncomfortably. My knees crushed into the cold ice as the swinging door closed and froze me inside the darkness of the machine. I giggled with aniticipation as I waited in the freezing cold ice box for the ‘stupid’ kid to lift up the door so I could pop out and scare him.
I heard a few taps, then footsteps. ‘It took him long enough,’ I thought.
The door wiggled open.
I yelled, ‘Ahhhhhhh!’
But the wrong person opened the ice machine. Before I could even react, her blood curling scream echoed throughout the entire restaurant. It was my boss.”
“I Have To Admit That I Don’t Like Wearing Clothes At Home”
“I have to admit that I don’t like wearing clothes at home. When I was 36, I had my first baby. She was just beginning to rollover. I fed her, she was asleep, and I Ieft her on the bed to run to the garage to get something from the car with nothing on.
We never locked the garage to house door. But low and behold, I was locked out and was totally unclothed. I was so worried my baby woukd wake up and roll off the bed. So there I was, in the garage, no phone, no clothes, no shoes, no car key. Did I already mention I was unclothed?
I searched the garage. I found a pair of rubber boots and a big camping tent. I wrapped up in the tent and boots and opened the garage door. It was cold and raining. I ran to my bedroom window which required climbing a six feet fence, in a tent and rubber boots. The tent was not working well so I ended up still with no clothes, in rubber boots climbing a fence.
She was still sleeping so I tried every door and window. All locked. I ran door to door. No one home, it was a workday. Finally a car came by and they went home and called pop a lock.
I discovered a tire iron inside storage and sat next to my bed room screen waiting for pop music a lock. If she woke up, that screen ended up being toast.
I sat truth be told there for half an hour, in cold and rainfall, covered with a tent and rubberized boots with a tire iron. Pop a Lock eventually arrived and she slept right through everything
Moral for the story. Don’t leave the infant on sleep. Attempt wearing garments or have a collection within the garage.”
Taste Testing Gone Awkward
“In 1982, I was invited by a girl I liked to a professional tasting at the Marriott in Boston. This was the real deal, not some gag. I was a broke college student but I scraped up the $15 entry fee and we drove off to the hotel in my broken down 1968 Dodge Charger in a cloud of black smoke.
I was wearing my best clothes: a pair of white pants and a maroon jacket with a blue shirt and tie. She had on her best dress. We were young and stupid.
After we paid our fee, we entered the hall. At the door, a tuxedoed waiter presented each of us with a crystal glass. This was for taste testing, but I don’t really drink and everything I know about it, I learned from watching James Bond movies, so essentially I knew nothing.
I was amazed by the set-up of the room. All along the inside walls were tables, each manned by a vendor. There were crates at each station with sommeliers opening bottles and setting up goblets. On each stand was a crystal pitcher. There was a discreet spit bucket located conveniently near every podium. In the center of the room was a massive table loaded with fresh bread and rolls and all kinds of cheese from all over the world. It was there so that tasters could cleanse their palates.
The room was getting crowded and the first stations were already jammed with people lining up to taste and score the drinks. It was a vino tasting contest so there were all kinds of pinots and chardonnays and moselles and Rhine options. The room smelled fruity and intoxicating, the smell of the hot, fresh bread and cheese mixing with the aroma of all the opened bottles.
To avoid the crowds, we moved to the bread and cheese table. Being a constantly starving college student, the opportunity to make a cheese sandwich could not be passed up. What I was not expecting was the quality of the breads and cheeses. For a minute, I considered forgetting the drinks altogether and just stuffing myself with bread and cheese. I wanted to fill my pockets when no one was looking.
But, instead, I moved to the head table for tasting. I did this because it was uncrowded. I didn’t realize that this was the location of the most prestigious vino entry in the contest. At the podium the sommelier, in his French suit, stood aside respectfully to allow me to examine the bottle. It meant absolutely nothing to me as I regarded the complex label. On the podium was a stand of new, clean glasses and a dozen open bottles. In the center was a beautifully crafted crystal pitcher, filled halfway with what I assumed was white vino.
As the sommelier looked on respectfully, I picked up the pitcher, poured some in my glass, held it up to the light and examined it, then swirled it around and went to taste it. At that moment the sommelier stepped up to me and in a deep, accented, voice said, ‘Pardon me sir, but you are about to taste the water we use to wash the glasses.’
In an instant, I felt about two inches tall. The heat of humiliation boiled out of every seam of my cheap suit. Beth, the girl I was with, started laughing hysterically. People nearby looked at us with distaste — this was a serious affair. But, with a flourish, the sommelier provided me with a fresh glass with vino and asked me to taste it. His face was completely expressionless. I drank it all. I didn’t spit. I moved away from the podium stiffly, completely mortified.
And then I made it my mission to get completely wasted. I visited every table. I tasted every drink. I never spit it out. I stuffed myself with bread and cheese and stuffed my pockets, too. I didn’t care who saw.
Later that afternoon I went out and puked it all up in the parking lot. Then, with Beth passed out on my shoulder, I drove forty miles home, wasted out of my mind the entire time.
The next day, Beth had told every single one of my friends the story. Every time I saw one of them they would repeat the line, ‘Excuse me sir, but you are about to taste the water we use to wash the glasses.’
I have never forgotten the embarrassment I felt that day — or stopped laughing over the stupidity of the situation. Good times, good times.”
He Didn’t Think His Friends Would Notice
“There was a snowstorm a few years ago that caused classes at my university to be canceled. I went sledding with a group of my friends, along with many other students. We brought a thermos of Maker’s. I only had a little and wasn’t wasted by any means but my decision-making must have been faulty because I peed in my snow pants rather than walk all the way home to use the bathroom.
At first everything was fine. It felt incredibly warm as I let it flow. My snow pants were black so I thought I’d gotten away with it but it was so cold outside that steam started rising out of the fabric in between my legs. We were on top of the hill having a sip and everyone could see the steam. I was mortified so I casually grabbed a sled and went down the hill on my own.
I felt the wetness had lost its heat and was relieved. I met my friends at the bottom of the hill and everything seemed fine until I realized that there was snow sticking to my ski pants but only on the parts that were wet. From the middle, down the inside and front of each leg the snow clung to the wet fabric. It was very obvious what had happened.
I could here my friends giggling and snickering so I excused myself and walked home. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”
“As I was waking up one morning I discovered, as I shifted myself in the sheets, the irritating zit on my backside which had been there the night before was still there and, if anything had grown overnight.
My wife had left for work earlier and I was looking forward to playing with the new mobile I had purchased the day before. It was also a cool morning and I decided I needed to examine my zit a little more closely. Bending over in the gross manner required to see it. I would have to back up to a full length mirror, bend over and look between my legs; didn’t seem a very attractive option on that chilly day.
That was when it dawned on me I could use use the high definition camera on my clever new phone and see the damage in detail without having to get out of bed. So I set the camera, pulled back the sheets, tilted myself over and took an awkward shot of my zit. I tend not to wear a lot in bed.
I have to say it was an unexpectedly decent shot. And, due to the twisting I did to get the camera in position, it turned out rather worryingly to be an almost obscene image. And of course, the zit was hardly to be seen.
What seems like Mount Vesuvius when it’s throbbing away on your arsepiece is usually nothing much when you check it out. I chuckled at the picture and my daftness that morning but no harm done. I deleted the image immediately and promptly forgot about it.
One should however never forget about Google backup.
Later that day, I was on the family computer in the front room; my wife was pottering about the room and my teenage daughter was watching something on the tv. A message popped up telling me I got a file to open.
You can guess the rest.
I was at first shocked. Who the heck sent me a picture of them without any clothes on? I immediately fumbled at my keyboard to remove the picture before anyone saw it when it dawned on me that was my arse filling the HD screen from the mobile shot I’d taken earlier that morning.
The fact that I did remove it before anyone saw it was the only good thing to come out of this experience. But do consider what might have happened if my family members had witnessed this:
‘Are you downloading X-rated material in our house on our computer?’ may have been the first question. I would of course said no.
‘Then to whom does that bare bottom belong that you were ogling over?’ ‘It was my bottom’, might be my reply. ‘So you’re uploading bare shots of yourself. Get out of this house you pervert’
Think about this for a moment.
Is there any way that I might have been able to present my version of events that didn’t leave me looking like a weirdo?”
All Over Bigger Chicken Pieces
“I was working at a gas station at age 18, it was in a bad area as far as the type of customers that visited.
It was this large lady that came in. We sold chicken and other foods inside the stores too. Cooked food. She ordered some chicken and left. She came back in, complaining the pieces of chicken were small. We were busy because it was lunch time and that was when all the workers from different construction and warehouse jobs came in to get lunch.
I wanted to make sure the workers got in and out quickly to have time to eat and get back to work without being late. I enjoyed the workers that came in because most of the customers were addicts and heavy drinkers that complained all the time or doing something to annoy me.
The customers were so awful at that store and I was young with a short fuse. I would argue with them and my manager never did anything about me going off on customers because he often had to kick aggressive customers out the store himself.
I stayed working for this company for six years, mainly because he let me get away with arguing with customers and refusing to deal with them if they were disrespectful.
So that lady came back in complaining the food portions were too small, I had all the workers in line trying to get their food and leave, and, she cut in front of them complaining about the size of her food being small. I asked to see her food, it wasn’t small.
I said, ‘Ma’am, this is fine.’
She said the person that came with her portions were bigger. I told her all sizes won’t be the same. She got angry and demanded bigger sizes. I told her she could go over to the food area and ask them to give her a bigger size but, being that she took it out of the store, I don’t know if they would do it because that was wasting perfectly good food.
She got irate saying, ‘I’m the customer and the customer is always right.’
I told her she could wait until I got done with my other customers and she yelled saying she wanted to speak to my manager now. This ticked me off so bad because she was fine with the size of her food when she bought it. She became angry because whoever she was with, pieces of chicken were bigger. It was lunchtime, we were busy, and she didn’t need the extra food anyways. Me being a young teenager with a short fuse, it didn’t sit right with me.
I had to stop waiting on my hard workers to go find my manager who happened to be in the cooler, stocking drinks. I went in the office, he wasn’t there so I checked the walk in coolers. He was in there. The coolers have the air going that makes a lot of noise. So I yelled his name when I stuck my head in to get his attention.
He asked, ‘What’s the problem?’
I yelled, ‘This overweight lady is complaining about some darn chicken being too small, holding up my darn line. Heck, she needs to be enquiring about some diet water, but she wants bigger pieces of chicken instead.’
Then I turned around to walk back to the register and she was right there. She had brought her annoying self to the back instead of waiting at the register because she was so mad about the chicken, she couldn’t stand still for a minute. She heard everything I said, I was so embarrassed. She looked at me with anger, but, more of her feelings being hurt.
My manager asked, ‘What did you say?’
The customer said, ‘My overweight self have a problem.’
I never been so embarrassed in my life, I didn’t want her to hear me say that. Maybe if she got mad about me saying it and argued, but, I could tell it hurt her feelings more than she was angry. That was not my intention. She was suppose to stay up front, but, the noise from the cooler made me not notice or hear her right behind me.
I was so embarrassed and caught off guard that I just froze. I couldn’t speak. My manager came out to talk to her and she looked at me with sadness in her face and she wasn’t yelling anymore, she was embarrassed to say that she wanted bigger pieces of chicken at that point. But, I was so embarrassed that I went and made her a big box of chicken with extra pieces and brought it to her and apologized. She held her head down and tried to give me the smaller chicken but I told her to keep it cause we would just toss it. And she took it and left looking sad.
My manager got mad that I gave her more chicken. I said I would pay for it.
He said, ‘That fatso didn’t need more, that’s her problem now.’
Everytime I think about that, it bothers me.”
Newly Weds Problems
“We had been married for a month. And I was exceptionally shy. It took me a while to get used to living with him and sharing his space. I wasn’t really feeling at home just yet, everything seemed too unfamiliar, too alien and NOT mine. Especially the bathroom. I hadn’t gotten comfortable using HIS toilet. So naturally, I had gotten severely constipated. And where there is constipation, there is gasy-ness.
So this one time, he was on his personal computer gaming with his headphones on and I was sitting on the couch just behind him, watching him play.
We were alone. He was gaming. I was constipated. So I let a big one rip…
It was only when he had turned around, his eyes wide in amusement and partial disbelief, that i realised he didnt have headphones on.
I didnt shy from pooping that day forward.
Whacky Light Sensors
“So off to the toilet I went, sitting minding my own business doing my thing, checking Facebook and what not, when the lights went out; they were sensored. Now, it was pitch black.
I thought, ‘I’ve got this covered. My phone has a light on it. PROBLEM SOLVED. PANIC OVER.’
I could see again.
I reached around for the toilet paper and all went dark again. A small vibration in my hand told me, the worst had happened, my battery had died. So I was now left sitting on the pot in total darkness doing obsurd tai chi hand movements and waving my hand around like an insane man, pleading with the lights to turn back on. This was not the case, the sensor was outside of the cubical. I now had two choices, I could attempt to finish my business in the dark and hope for the best or I could open the door and do the weird crab shuffle out while holding my pants in one hand and waving the other. I came to the conclusion, that only the second option would work, but the problem was, this toilet, was used by all the male staff, what if someone came in. So I listened intently and I couldn’t hear anyone, so this would be the perfect time to make it quick. All I needed to do was sidestep out and wave, then the lights would come on and the jobs a gudun. So I went for it.
I was out, pants around my knees one hand in the air waving at the sensors and the lights came on. Then the door swung open, and the manager strolled into the toilets, thinking it was going to be a quiet moment in his life. A thing he has done many times in his life, just a quick pee, no trouble, just a minute of his day turned into something quite different.
As he walked in to the toilets, the lights switched on, and he was greeted by me, half crouched trying to keep my pants up and waving a hand, followed by a wide-eyed stare and a noise that can only be explained as a ‘MAN YELP’. I slowly shuffled back into the cubical, locked the door and almost died of embarrassment. I sat back on the toilet, hoping he would go away, just leave so I could be alone to drown myself in the toilet water so I never had to see this man’s face again.
Instead he shouted, ‘YEA THE SENSORS IN HERE ARE TRASH, MATE.'”
“I was with my two-year-old cousin and she wanted to poop so badly. There was no one in the house. I had never cleaned anyone’s poop before and I didn’t wanted to do it. So this is what I did.
I asked her if she was wearing a diaper? Unfortunately she wasn’t, so I thought to distract her for a while. After five minutes, she again gave me that expression. So I called her mom and asked her when she was coming back.
I had to manage her for half an hour somehow, so I kept distracting her but she couldn’t control it anymore. At last, I made her sit in the toilet. Now I asked her if she could clean on her own.
She said, ‘No!’
Her mom always did it. So now I waited for five minutes and then looking at her face, I thought I should wash it. But that was not it.
First, I wore a black polythene as gloves to wash her poop. And when I was about to start washing, her mom came back and yeah she saw me wearing that polythene in the washroom. Not only she, along with her three more family members saw me how I was going to clean after she popped.
They said, ‘What are you doing?’
I didn’t had anything to say. I was like, ‘Ahh, why doesn’t she wear a diaper?’
But after seeing her mom, I thought lucky me, I didn’t have to clean her anymore. But I guess the kid was more lucky.
The lesson I learnt: Don’t stay alone with kids without diapers. And yeah, I ensure it every time I have to look after my cousin.”
“Imagine, if you can, being an eighteen-year-old female driving with three beautiful coeds to college. My car ran out of oil, so I lifted up the hood. With all this eye-candy, I was not surprised when three males stopped their car to help us. That’s the opening scene.
Since I thought I knew what I was doing, I confidently declined when asked, ‘Can we help you?’
Saying, ‘No, thank you,’ was my first mistake.
To my surprise, these young men hung around to watch what I was doing. They were trying to hold back their snickering as they watched me attempt to pour down the oil into the dip stick hole. Yes, you read that correctly. Whenever I went to a gas station, the attendant put up the hood of the car and from the driver’s seat that was what I assumed where the oil went. I
am well aware about the saying about ‘assuming anything’. It’s something like you make a fool out of yourself. Well, I did.
Needless to say, I was spilling oil all over the engine and barely getting the oil down the wrong hole. I thought the problem was the lack of a funnel. They obviously knew better and thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment. When I was done, I put down the hood, gave them a raised eye-brow, and said with a certain haughty smile, ‘See, we can do these things!’
We all got back into our cars as the boys followed us from behind. All of a sudden, my car was surrounded by smoke that was so thick I could barely see through the windshield. The boys gleefully passed us and waved.
I barely made it to the next gas station. When we arrived, the boys were waiting while leaning nonchalantly against their car with their wide grins and crossed arms and legs.
That was the most embarrassing time that I was caught in the act of doing something.”