Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2011-36

---

IN THIS ISSUE

• Anaise Bourbon bids farewell to Egypt
• Carol Dilworth tells how she missed the chance of a lifetime
• Catherine Green forwards the story of a sea voyage
• Zvonko Springer sends another example of the difficulties with English
• Ron McVey forwards a transcript of a frustrating conversation
• Pat Moore´s story suggests an interesting strategy
• Sites are suggested by Bruce Galway, Carol Hansen, Catherine Green, Tom Telfer and Tom Williamson

Anaise Bourbon leaves Egypt:

WHO WAS THAT WOMAN?

I decided to fly back sooner than I had expected. Well, I like to say *I* decided, but the truth is more complicated and has to do with what is going on in Egypt right now.

Everything important or seemingly impossible is done by one´s network of friends here. While I was waiting for the vine to work its magic (for some reason, for some people it´s harder to get out than to get in), I noticed there were two flights leaving at about the same time. One was Egypt Air and the other was British Midlands. The friend of a friend arranging the flight booked the Egypt Air one, as he said they had better flights. Yes, given some of the stuff I saw that was made here, (like electronic goods) I was a bit chary of the planes.

So with a little slight of hand, we made it to the airport. I was dressed as I did in Cairo. There was a bit of a worry about a visa fine (fines happen depending on your comings and goings), and I didn´t want to draw attention to myself. But I sailed through and no fine was levied on me. I noticed that most of the other white foreigners were flying British Midlands. Indeed, not one non- Egyptian or non-Egyptian-looking person was on my flight but me.

My! What a plane! I swear it was new. So clean. And because it wasn´t full, I had a full row to myself and the window seat. I watched the British Midlands plane taxi to the runway, and I´m not saying for sure that there was a lot of duct-tape, but if was anything like the B.A. flight I came in on, too bad for the pasty-white and lobster-red people.

People travelling over 70 miles are exempt from fasting during Ramadan, but even so, people were not hoisting water bottles and such while on the plane until they were served a glorious dinner. The plane flew low over the Mediterranean, over the Greek Islands, and up the coast with the ocean turning from cobalt blue to the lightest turquoise. It was exquisite. Best flight ever.

Then we got to Heathrow.

You know, I´ve got British ancestry. Married a British dude (two, actually), have a half-British son, and on an earlier passport had an NTL stamp (No Time Limit). I´ve lived, worked, and paid taxes there. I got rid of my dual passport on the advice of the Canadian Government after 9/11, because it was believed that both Americans and British people were potential targets, and we were told to travel with only the Canadian nationality showing. Which I did, but it doesn´t have an NTL stamp in the new one. I was in the U.K. for nearly SIX MONTHS, and they *still* hadn´t got my documents ready so I could work there. Again. Some people who know me know the hassles I went through while waiting.

So anyway, I got to the customs agent at Heathrow, and he started in with all these questions - which I answered politely. Then he started getting nasty. Started subjecting my passport to every test known to documents. He asks me to *prove* I wasn´t going to try to settle in the U.K. Me? Talk about irony - I´d spent MONTHS there not long before, waiting for them to get me my stamp until I simply had to leave. He demanded to see my onward ticket(s). I told him it was done online and he could check it there (nobody uses paper tickets anymore!) Apparently he couldn´t do that. I said "Here´s my note- book. I´ll pull it up for you". Apparently he couldn´t look at it. Then he got to the meat of it. "I see you were in the U.K. for a long time then went to Egypt. Why would you do that?" I told him I was visiting. "For that long? What did you live on; who were you visiting? Why are you coming back here?"

I was starting to get a lot pissed off now. I just looked straight at him and said, "Have I done something WRONG, sir? Is there a PROBLEM here? Why won´t you just check my story, my history, or anything else? What have I done wrong?"

And no word of a lie, this is also a direct quote, and it´s seared into my brain, he said, "Just get out of here. Go get your luggage and GET OUT!"

I thought: What the hell?

So I did. I had a hotel booked for the night and went to get a taxi. A taxi dude was the first person I ran into when I went outside. When he asked me if I wanted a cab, I just automatically said in Egyptian, "Yes please, sir. Thank you." And he just stared at me and then asked, "You are an Egyptian? I see you are wearing the hibab." I told him no, I wasn´t, but I had come from Egypt. It turned out he was Egyptian, and he treated me like visiting royalty. I saw he was a smoker and someone had given me a carton of Egyptian cigarets, (for some reason, I guess there´s some kind of cachet attached to them and one doesn´t turn down a present) so I gave it to him. People by tradition give presents on Ramadan anyway. I know cigarettes are expensive in the U.K. but they are only about 40 cents a pack in Cairo. They were his favourite brand years back when he was in Egypt and I was getting embarrassed at his reaction to this tiny gesture of some Cleopatra cigarettes (that´s what they were called - bad movie visual there.) And he gave me a great ride and didn´t want to charge, but a person has to make a living, so I gave him what I thought it would have cost. When we got to the hotel, we wished each other a happy Ramadan.

And then it hit me. What did the white British customs agent see? The same thing as the Egyptian ex-pat taxi driver - at least to *look* at. But the woman they both saw was to them, two very different people.

Carol Dilworth misses her chance to see

THE STANLEY CUP

The Stanley Cup came to Guelph and I did not go to see it.

This may raise a few questions, not the least of which is "Why are you writing about it, then, you lazy hussy?"

Well, I finally realized that most Guelphites did not go to see it and I am wondering why.

To backtrack to why the cup came here. It turns out that Rich Peverley, a Boston Bruin, lives in Guelph with his wife and young family. And the cup winners may have the cup visit their hometown. So now Rich´s living-in-a-hamlet-that-thinks-it´s-a-city cover is blown. I suspect he´s still glad that he was on the winning team (and, frankly, even now I wouldn´t recognize him).

I didn´t know any of the above until the newspaper announced the pending welcome. And I decided that if it wasn´t too hot, I would stand in the very long lineup. Undoubtedly this would be my chance of a lifetime to see the cup (I moved here from Toronto). It was too hot, so now I hope that whatever team Rich is on next year (does one just assume Boston?) goes to the very end. Because now I know that the cup isn´t nearly the draw that I thought it would be.

Only one thousand people turned up. That may sound like a lot, but Guelph´s population is 115,000. Kitchener, Waterloo, Cambridge, Hamilton and Milton (as well as Owen Sound and many other towns) are an easy drive. It was the middle of the summer, but many Guelph couples include a teacher. And I suspect that a true fan might book the afternoon off work to take the kids.

I am sufficiently aware of local hockey to know that we have a Junior A team, the Guelph Storm, and that Guelph hosted the Memorial Cup just a few years ago. And we have lots of sports bars (does that count?) So it seems that Guelph is a sporting community.

So here is my thinking: professional hockey is associated with huge dollars - advertising, ticket and shirt sales, players´ salaries ... and viewing the Stanley Cup was free. I wonder if more people would have attended if there had been an admission fee? I will let the reader ponder and reply.

And that´s it for the Silly Season for me.

Catherine Green forwards the tale of

A TRIP TO HAWAII

A young woman was so depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the ocean,but just before she could throw herself from the docks, a handsome young man stopped her.

"You have so much to live for," said the man. "I´m a sailor, and we are off to Hawaii tomorrow. I can stow you away on my ship. I´ll take care of you, bring you food every day, and keep you happy."

With nothing to lose, combined with the fact that she had always wanted to go to Hawaii, the woman accepted.

That night the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a small but comfortable compartment in the hold. From then on, every night he would bring her three sandwiches, a bottle of red wine, and make love to her until dawn.

Three weeks later she was discovered by the captain during a routine inspection.

"What are you doing here?" asked the captain.

"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she replied. "He brings me food and I get a free trip to Hawaii."

"I see," the captain said.

Her conscience got the best of her and she added, "Plus, he´s screwing me."

"He certainly is," replied the captain. "This is the Vancouver Island ferry."

ED. NOTE: You do realize that there are no new jokes; there are only jokes with different locales and nationalities.

Zvonko Springer forwards this

ODE TO ENGLISH PLURALS

We´ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,
Why shouldn´t the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn´t the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren.
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!

Ron McVey forwards this example of

WHY CUSTOMER SUPPORT EMPLOYEES GET FIRED

This is a true story from the Word Perfect Helpline, which was transcribed from a recording monitoring the customer care department. Needless to say, the help desk employee was fired; however, he/she is currently suing the Word Perfect organization for termination without cause.

Operator: "Ridge Hall, computer assistance; may I help you?"

Caller: "Yes, well, I´m having trouble with WordPerfect."

Operator: "What sort of trouble??"

Caller: "Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away."

Operator: "Went away?"

Caller: "They disappeared."

Operator: "Hmm. So what does your screen look like now?"

Caller: "Nothing."

Operator: "Nothing?"

Caller: "It´s blank; it won"t accept anything when I type."

Operator: "Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?"

Caller: "How do I tell?"

Operator: "Can you see the C: prompt on the screen??"

Caller: "What´s a sea-prompt?"

Operator: "Never mind; can you move your cursor around the screen?"

Caller: "There isn´t any cursor. I told you, it won´t accept anything I type...."

Operator: "Does your monitor have a power indicator??"

Caller: "What´s a monitor?"

Operator: "It´s the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it´s on??"

Caller: "I don´t know."

Operator: "Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?"

Caller: "Yes, I think so."

Operator: "Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it´s plugged into the wall."

Caller: "Yes, it is."

Operator: "When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one??"

Caller: "No."

Operator: "Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable."

Caller: "Okay, here it is."

Operator: "Follow it for me, and tell me if it´s plugged securely into the back of your computer."

Caller: "I can´t reach."

Operator: "Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is??"

Caller: "No."

Operator: "Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?"

Caller: "Oh, it´s not because I don"t have the right angle - it´s because it´s dark."

Operator: "Dark?"

Caller: "Yes - the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window."

Operator: "Well, turn on the office light then."

Caller: "I can´t."

Operator: "No? Why not?"

Caller: "Because there´s a power failure."

Operator: "A power ... a power failure? Aha! Okay, we´ve got it licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?"

Caller: "Well, yes, I keep them in the closet."

Operator: "Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from."

Caller: "Really? Is it that bad?"

Operator: "Yes, I´m afraid it is."

Caller: "Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them??"

Operator: "Tell them you´re too darn stupid to own a computer!"

ED. NOTE: Not every story that claims to be true actually happened, but probably there have been recorded conversations that were equally frustrating for the operator and resulted in his being fired.

Pat Moore forwards something to remember if you find yourself in hospital:

HOW IS NORMA?

A sweet grandmother telephones St. Joseph´s Hospital. She timidly asked, "Is it possible to speakto someone who can tell me how a patient is doing?"

The operator said, "I´ll be glad to help, dear. What´s the name and room number of the patient?"

The grandmother in her weak, tremulous voice said, "Norma Findlay, room 302."

The operator replied, "Let me put you on hold while I check with the nurse´s station for that room."

After a few minutes, the operator returned to the phone and said, "I have good news. Her nurse just told me that Norma is doing well. Her blood pressure is fine; her blood work just came back normal, and her physician, Dr. Cohen, has scheduled her to be discharged tomorrow."

The grandmother said, "Thank you. That´s wonderful. I was so worried. Thank you for the good news."

The operator replied, "You´re more than welcome. Is Norma your daughter?"

The grandmother said, "No, I´m Norma Findlay in room 302. No one tells me anything."

SUGGESTED SITES

Bruce Galway sends a link to a video about meat glue which may put you off meat for a while. The next time that you are at the grocery store, go to the pre-packaged meat coolers and look closely at the list of the countries on the labels of any of the packaged meats that show where that meat came from. Buy only meat that came from USA or Canada:

Carol Hansen found this very interesting: Learn how to pack a carry- on size bag for months of travel. After decades of conducting packing demonstrations, PackingLight.com teaches travelers how to pack the maximum amount of clothing into a 22-inch carry-on. The age-old method works in larger suitcases and leaves clothing wrinkle free upon arrival.

Catherine Nesbitt forwards the confession of a pharmaceutical sales rep:

Pat Moore recommends this site for outstanding photos of the 50 US states:

Tom Telfer suggests this site, which kept his eyes glued to the screen:

In a lighter vein, Tom also sends a link to a video of flying fish:

Tom Williamson forwards the URL for a video of a jetman flying over the Grand Canyon, which was selected for the flight because of the great scenery:

Find My iPad is one of a new generation of programs that can now help people track down their mobile devices when they´re lost or stolen. Yet, remarkably, many users fail to protect their smartphonesand tablets by setting up these programs or using PIN numbers to secure the data on them. Scambusters covers this subject in their current newsletter at

Though most people don´t realize it, the US government can´t just issue its own money anymore. It used to be that way, but today, in the crazy money system, their government has to borrow its money into existence and then pay interest on it. That´s why they call it the national debt. All their money is created out of debt. Politicians who focus on reducing the national debt as an answer probably don´t know what the national debt really is. To reduce the national debt would be to reduce their money - and there´s already too little of that. The answer is to issue their own money, debt free. This video explains why its gigantic debt is killing the US economy:

To check out the features of the "freedictionary", which changes daily, go to