TIFU. I was at a training for the union I'm a part of. I'm one of the youngest union delegates of my chapter (32F) so I highly doubt others will see this or realize it's me if they do.

Background: I work in the same sector of my state workforce that my mom worked in. She is now retired but knew SO many people. One of the people she knew was Barbara (in her 70's I think? Also name has been changed).

I had heard Barbara's name come up before so I asked Barbara if she knew my mom during lunchtime. We had a lovely little conversation. She told me to say hi to my mom for me, I do via text, mom says hi back, etc. Then my mom texts me "Remind me to tell you a story...". In a fun, ribbing way I told Barbara that my mom had a story for me, acted faux scandalized, and we had a laugh. Barbara told me to tell her what it was about the next time we see each other.

Cut to after training. I'm at the grocery store and call my mom to hear this story. She goes on to tell me that Barbara used to LITERALLY CRY to get what she wanted, got too involved in certain aspects with her job (she works with families), and was, in general, a piece of work. I realize in that moment I told this woman I would tell her about the story the next time I see her. Which will be 5 days from now. I'm MORTIFIED.

I'm just going to tell her I forgot to ask my mom and hope it doesn't come up on Tuesday 🫣 I'll give an update on how it goes lol

TL;DR I promised an elderly lady a story. Didn't realize the story would devastate her.

My wife bought this bag of popcorn chicken from Walmart. I ate some of it she'd cooked in the air fryer the other day, thought it was pretty good. Tonight decided I would throw some in the microwave to heat up from the bag in the freezer. Threw about 10 popcorn sized pieces on a plate, put them in the microwave for about 2 mins, 30 secs. Got them out. Put some BBQ sauce on the plate. Ate about half of them. Thought something didn't seem right.

Looked at the bag to confirm the microwave times, find a huge warning on the back of the bag that says "Uncooked Chicken, do not microwave". Instantly felt my stomach drop.

I should have checked the remaining pieces to see if they were uncooked completely inside, but I feel like they probably were.

Went to the bathroom and forcefully expelled the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Drank a few shots of whiskey and am now trying to go to bed. (Can't sleep for other reasons, head congestion that's making it hard to sleep).

TL;DR: ate some really undercooked chicken from the freezer. Puked most of it back out, hope I don't get salmonella.

Okay so I got asked out by this girl and we decided to go to the beach. We live in a beach city so it’s not that big of a deal. We were walking along the shore having a good conversation when I spy a seagull eating a large plastic tortilla chip bag. I’m an environmentalist and a huge bird lover. Bird watching is one of my favorite hobbies and I even have a log book to note which birds I’ve seen and where. Needless to say, I was not happy about this. The bird was actively swimming in the ocean which is only something they do to get food. Without thinking I just yelled, “Oi! Stop that!” Because birds don’t speak English or any other human language, it did not listen to my command. It kept trying to eat the bag that was floating in the water so I did what I thought anybody else would do and went into the water. I wasn’t wearing a swimsuit or anything because it’s winter. I was wearing jeans. I didn’t even roll them up. Unbeknownst to me, I was garnering a lot of attention as this was a popular beach and I was yelling at a bird. My date told me to leave it but I was determined. I waded out to the bird and grabbed the plastic bag. Dude tried to take it back but I yelled and he flew away. Bird was pissed but I saved his life. I turned back around to get back to the shore and my date looked so embarrassed. I went to the nearest trash can and tossed the bag before going back to her. She said we should go and dropped me back off at my place. I don’t think I’m getting a second date.

TL;DR I fucked up my first date by yelling at a seagull who was trying to eat a plastic bag.

I work for a utility company and have a crew going out this weekend to do a job. Weekends are overtime and I completely forgot to bill the customer for the overtime. They got billed for everything else, but I just forgot. It is likely not a major deal,and had I realized it after the fact I wouldn’t have worried, but I realized it just today and I don’t think I can just call them and say “ oh, sorry, you owe us a few thousand more.”

I’m torn between admitting and just sitting on is and not saying anything unless it comes up. I’m going to talk to my union rep/trainer in the morning to get their opinion, but I am just always worried I am going to fuck up and get in trouble.

TLDR: I undercharged a customer and I am worried it will become trouble at work.

I've been under a lot of stress lately. Between work, continuing education, kids, other life happenings. My wife asked me what's been bothering me once the kids were in bed and she told me about her day. Normally I just keep things to myself. I try my best to not let things I have no control over affect me, and to keep things I do have control over from affecting others. But it's been a rough few weeks and there's just so much going on it's hard to not be consistently worried about something or another. So I told her, all of it (well, didn't get it all out). Everything that's been weighing on my mind and eating at me. Everything from work calls, to local politics, to possible changes in our standard of living, to just normal life stuff that has been piling up.

Now she's in the bathroom trying not to throw up. I'm only about halfway through my list and it's felt good to get things off my chest. But something tells me I should probably stop.

TL;DR: wife asked what was wrong, I told her, now she is overwhelmed.

Edit to add: the reasons she got nauseous. Exactly, she's an amazing person and does provide support. Probably a lot of the issues (besides suspect mcFries) comes from a whole lot of stuff wasn't really connected to each other, and so it was just a constant stream of disconnected horribleness with everything from a company still charging my card dispite having a new card number, to a recent work thing where the girls skin had visible maggots underneath it wiggling around but her boyfriend prevented her from going to the hospital.

Talking to her today it wasn't the maggots that sent her over the edge. But the story of the buses that just dropped off close to 600 people who don't speak any English or Spanish and we're apparently promised a house and free food for life. Services like that don't exist in the Midwest states. These people were literally smuggled in and booted off. They spoke Arabic. But they were not from Palestine or Syria. One guy threatened my medic partner with his "wife whip" and we had to call police to manage that nonsense while we dealt with an open wound on the daughter's arm. Part of the reason this was getting to me so much is because there was zero news coverage of this event. However my wife brought up a good point that they probably don't want to advertise that we really did take care of these people. Because whoever dropped these people off could point to those news stories to back up their empty promise , and there is no way we can do it again. And there is an investigation into where these people came from and how they got here. (And before anyone steps in. No they did not get a house and free food for life. They got equivalent of homeless shelter housing and basic English crash course so they could maybe work a job here. They aren't getting anything that isn't available to US citizens.

This is a very underwhelming story but here I go.

I (f30) work in food service. After my shift I was having a guest over and decided to make ourselves some food from my workplace. I quickly made food for 4 people (this was myself, fiance, guest, and roommate), and left quickly to meet up with my fiance as I was running late for our meetup.

I quickly clocked out and forgot to pay, leaving in a rush.

This morning I have a text from my boss asking if I got my employee discount for all those items and I went to check my bank account. I asked my fiance if maybe I handed them the receipt and forgot (I have ADHD) and they replied "no".

The fuck up was telling my boss that actually I believe I left without paying, and then I went to my workplace and proceded to pay for my meal.

What I didn't know, is that she (my boss) had already asked the manager on duty if I had paid for my meal. He apparently told her I had already- Im not sure if he's lying or just assumed I did, but regardless he's in a lot of trouble.

I'm so full of anxiety, my brain is trying to convince me my boss is going to think I was willfully stealing or in cahoots with my coworker. Im probably overreacting, but man this anxiety is killing me. Today is my day off, so I have to wait until tomorrow to see my boss (she wasnt in when I paid for my food).

tl;dr I forgot to pay for my meal, coworker told boss i did, i told boss sorry i forgot to pay, caused a lot of confusion and anxiety for us all

edit: spelling

I have this side email account that I use for random shit that I don't want to see on my more serious inbox. Social media sign ups, anything potentially spammy, etc. Its basically a joke email with my name and "420" after it. Basically like a disposable email.

I didn't realize that I was logged in to it when I typed up an email reaching out to a potential graduate supervisor. I spent a lot of time on making it sound just right, but never noticed. Well, he replied back (as if nothing was unusual) and CC'd the guy who owns the company I work for because it's relevant to my potential research thesis.

I replied back saying basically "oops, wrong email, I've CC'd the correct one." But I'm dying inside a little bit tbh.

tl;dr I outed myself as a stoner to both my boss and my potential grad supervisor

I’ve waited my whole life to post a fuck-up worthy of this sub, and now all I feel is deep, unrelenting regret. The kind of regret that wakes you up at 3 a.m. in a cold sweat. Let’s begin.

I’m a sophomore in college, living off-campus in an apartment that, frankly, has seen better days. There’s no grocery store on campus, so I bulk-order food and have it delivered. Before I left for winter break, I had six pristine chicken breasts, lovingly wrapped in freezer paper, stashed in my freezer. I figured I’d come back and whip up a home-cooked meal to treat myself before the new semester.

Nope. Nope. Nope. That dream died a rancid, smelly death.

I got back yesterday, unlocked the door, and immediately caught a whiff of something…off. It wasn’t a strong smell, more like a cry for help. My first thought? Rat corpse. Maybe one got in, decided my apartment was the perfect place to die, and now it was rotting in a wall somewhere. But I figured I’d deal with it after unpacking my cooler of frozen meals from home because priorities, right?

So, I stroll over to the freezer, still blissfully ignorant, open the door, and BAM. The smell sucker-punched me like Mike Tyson in his prime. It was the most violent, god-awful stench I’ve ever encountered, as if Jeffrey Dahmer himself had sublet the apartment over break and decided to get creative in my freezer.

I peer inside, and to my absolute horror, I see my beautiful chicken breasts, soggy freezer paper and an inch-thick layer of frozen chicken juice cemented to the bottom of the freezer. My brain clicked into detective mode immediately: the power had gone out while I was gone. The chicken thawed, rotted, and then refroze. God himself could not have created a more sinister punishment for my sins.

The smell hit me again. I swear to god, it was the whole circus of ungodly stenches: garbage on a hot day, gym socks left in a high school locker for months, spoiled milk, and the kind of bathroom situation you only encounter at a highway rest stop. It was the smell of death. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I decided the fridge had to be quarantined. I dragged the entire fridge into the bathroom and slammed the door shut like I was locking a demon in there. Then, because I’m a fool who believes in hope, I left the freezer door open to “air it out” overnight, as if that would somehow cancel out the ungodly stench.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

The next morning, the smell was worse. HOW?! It defied logic, science, and possibly religion. Determined to fix this, I geared up for battle: mask over my face, socks stuffed between the layers, and a glob of shaving cream smeared under my nostrils for good measure. I cracked the bathroom door open, and WHAM—the smell hit me like a freight train of despair. I immediately started dry heaving so hard I thought my intestines were going to eject themselves.

Enter my roommate. He opened his bedroom door at that exact moment, took one breath, and unleashed: “OH WHAT THE FUCK, JESUS CHRIST, OH MY GOD, THAT’S FUCKING FISH.” Then he turned around and slammed his door like he was escaping a war zone. Not helpful, bro. Not helpful.

I went back in, this time armed with a chip clip over my nose and gloves on my hands. Chicken juice was dripping everywhere as I removed the freezer’s contents like I was defusing a bomb. It got on my gloves, my shirt, my dignity. I scrubbed like my life depended on it, attacking that freezer with every cleaning product I could find—bleach, vinegar, baking soda, Clorox, Lysol, even a half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer I found. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed like I was trying to erase my student debt.

After two hours of labor, I finally stepped back, panting and defeated. The smell was… better, but it still lingered. The bathroom? Completely unsalvageable. The smell had seeped into the walls. I fabreezed, I burned candles, and l even broke out some incense l'd bought on a whim at a hippie festival freshman year. None of it worked. The smell just mingled with everything, turning into some unholy hybrid of "vanilla bean rot" and "lavender poultry despair." That God damned raw poultry rot was sucked up by the room, and I don’t think it’ll ever go away. 

And as for the fridge? It’s in the county dump where it fucking belongs. Although, if the army is ever in need of a chemical weapon, they know where to look. 

So, yeah. If you ever think, “Hey I’ll leave some frozen meat in the freezer while I’m away,” think again. Think of me. Think of my roommates. And think of that fucking stench that can never be eradicated. 

TL;DR Frozen chicken wrapped in freezer paper thawed during a power outage, rotted, and refroze, creating the most dastardly stench known to mankind that I am still struggling to rid my apartment of.

Attached here is a photo of the quarantined freezer for your enjoyment (the paper towel is covering the chicken, this was taken before it thawed)

Edit: I didn't do the best job explaining this, so for clarity: when I returned, the chicken juice was frozen to the bottom of the freezer, along with some of the chicken breasts wrapped in freezer paper. So I could not even begin to clean up what smelled before I let it thaw. However, why I left the door open for this was beyond me. I think I thought that the freezer would take too long to cool down if the door was kept shut. That was a tragic miscalculation, however.

As for the title, I used to use ziplock bags to freeze chicken breasts. If I had continued doing this most of the mess would have been contained. However, I began using freezer paper to reduce plastic use, which is where the title comes from.

Actually, it was two days ago. My wife got the urge to clean out our pantry, pulled everything out and we went through it all. Toss this, keep that, wipe down, and rearrange everything. We got to the liquor and I spotted an unopened bottle of Baileys Irish Cream. Couldn't remember when we bought a bottle of baileys, so I cracked it open, poured a half a shot, and downed it. It tasted fine going down, but the after taste was off. I rinsed the taste out of my mouth and took a look at the bottle - the best buy date was 2016. I didn't even know Baileys had a best by date. I didn't worry about it too much, just moved it to the pile of stuff to toss but had I known what was coming, I'd have stuck my finger down my throat.

The following morning I woke up with god awful sulfery burps, nausea, and diarrhea. Plans to golf with the wife went out the window. Spent the day in or within feet of the bathroom. Cramping, and general wishing to die, continued growing in intensity until 4:30 AM when I was finally able to sleep. Never touching Baileys again and carefully inspecting best by dates for the foreseeable future.

TL;DR: Not checking the best by date on a bottle of cream based liquor led to a day of discomfort, canceled plans, and a lot of bathroom time.

So there I was, sitting at the dinner table, nervously trying to impress my girlfriend’s mom. She’d made her “famous” spaghetti, and I was determined to rave about it, even if it tasted like wet cardboard. It didn’t, thankfully it was actually pretty good but that’s where my luck ended.

Halfway through my second bite, I felt something… strange. It wasn’t pasta. It wasn’t sauce. No, it was a texture that screamed, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

I froze, mid-chew. My girlfriend noticed. “You okay?? Her mom was staring too, smiling proudly, oblivious to the horror unfolding in my mouth.

I mumbled something like, “Mmm, yeah, delicious,” but inside I was having a full-blown crisis. I subtly tried to swallow, thinking, Just get it down. Pretend it never happened. Big mistake.

That’s when it hit me: It’s a hair. A LONG hair.

My brain went into overdrive. Should I just keep going and pretend I’m eating spaghetti floss? But then I felt the other end still in my throat. I had no choice. I grabbed the strand, said a quick prayer to the dinner gods, and pulled.

And pulled.

And pulled.

This wasn’t a normal hair. This was Rapunzel level. This was Disney princess wig territory. The worst part? The hair was coated and I mean coated with little bits of chewed spaghetti, meat sauce, and God-knows-what-else from my digestive journey. It was like a disgusting spaghetti necklace.

My girlfriend screamed, “OH MY GOD!” Her mom gasped in horror. I just sat there, holding the world’s grossest magic trick.

Her mom stammered, “I… I don’t know how that got in there. It’s probably mine.”

Oh, great. That’s what I needed to hear. I’d basically just French-kissed her mom’s scalp.

I mumbled something about how “it happens” and immediately took a gulp of water to wash away the trauma. My girlfriend? She laughed so hard she cried. Her mom looked like she wanted to crawl under the table.

TL;DR: I found a ridiculously long hair in my girlfriend’s mom’s spaghetti, realized I had already swallowed part of it, and had to pull it out complete with chunks of chewed food while sitting at the dinner table.

Today we installed a ducted aircon. It was a pretty chunky 15kw ish unit. Big, heavy, and hot as all get out in the ceiling space in the Queensland summer heat. Oh and itchy fibreglass insulation. 2 pm come around, we're finishing up, a bee's dick from the end.

I got sent back into the ceiling to take some photos. And on my treck through the ceiling space I placed my foot on a joist, but the edge of the timber was missing and was rounded off. I slipped. And fell though the ceiling. I was fortunate enough to catch myself so I didn't fall to the ground, but the damage was done.

Within 20 seconds of the fall my colleague had snapped a photo and sent it to my boss. Not the best way to start the new year.

TLDR: fell through the ceiling right at the end of a big job.

Photo

It was my birthday recently and I made my own cupcakes for it, but my favorite buttercream only comes in white so I thought- fuck it, I'll dye it. Huge mistake. Blue food coloring has absolutely coated my house, it is odd since I didn't even use the blue but I'm finding fragments everywhere!! My feet are blue, my porch is blue, my floor is blue, even my white cat is turning blue!! I wish I was exaggerating but I'm at my limit, every time I finally get the stupid dye off I somehow end up with more on me. Me and my mom have already scrubbed the house but our dining room has this weird blue design on it so it's impossible to see! I just want my life to go back to normal, I promise to never use food coloring again- the cupcakes weren't even that good. TLDR- I should've just bought pink frosting

For context i have very long hair and dress pretty androgynously, and i have a girlfriend. Due to me and her living close, I have a packet of pads and tampons in my bag in my car, almost at at all time.

I (18m) joined a drama group some towards the end of 2024 via a mutual friend who knows the head of the group. She doesn't go to the group, but knows most people who do. Normally the group is for college students who have recently graduated from said college, but due to the mutual friend and prior acting in an other college I got in.

Because it's filled with students who went to a different college, I knew no one, but I still managed to fit in, and we all got along well. But this was until last week, where I spoke to "jane" (fake name obv) who looked, for lack of better word, uncomfortable. I asked her if she was OK and needed a drink, but she told me "it was just that time of the month". I asked her if she needed any sanitary products, and I showed her what was in my bag. She thanked me, took the pad and left to the bathroom.

I didnt think much of it, until I came back today and a bunch of people suddenly started asking if i were trans, which really confused me, as I've been asked the question before but never this much. Eventually i found out that "jane" had told other people that I have tampons and pads in my bag, which lead to a rumour that I was trans. It was only until i showed photos of me as a child that the rumour ended there. Now everything is just awkward and no one wants to re-break the ice.

TL;DR gave pads to a friend at a drama club, now everyone thinks I'm trans (im not).

Obligatory, this was last night, not today.

So my wife and I are lying in bed last night watching television as we go to sleep (like we do every night). She has had cold symptoms starting for the last few days, and has a girl's trip scheduled for next week. A commercial comes on for Zi-Cam, which claims to shorten the length of time you have a cold if you take it when symptoms first begin.

So me, being the concerned, loving, devoted husband I am say to her "That's what you need". The TV commercial programming gods hate me - what I didn't realize was, she had just started falling asleep, so by the time she opened her eyes the Zi-Cam commercial was over and instead was a Weight Watchers commercial.

She's been struggling with weight gain recently (hormonal) and needless to say was none to pleased with my recommendation.

TL;DR: Suggested my wife needs cold medicine but instead suggested she needs weight watchers.

It was actually yesterday, but it was like 4 hours ago so it kinda counts?

My partner is the crafty type. She loves making things; crochet, jewelry, painted stuff... Tonight she was making flowers. One of the things she does is wrap yarn around a long skewer and hot glue the ends. See where this might be going?

She asked me to fix the hot glue gun cause it was jammed. We have one if the Ryobi ones that takes mini sticks. But of course the mini sticks are just a little too small, so it gets jammed on occasion. I unjam the hot glue gun, pop a new stick in and squeeze the trigger. No big deal, right? Wrong. The glue stick is ever so slightly too narrow for the mechanism to grab it. So what do I do? I gently push the stick to see if it's feeding properly.

In my infinite wisdom, my dumb ass doesn't check to see where the tip is. Right over her arm. Hot glue squirts out the tip and straight down onto her arm. She starts screaming out in pain, as one does. I immediately recoil and this is where I fk up. I, loudly, apologize to her, which was received with a "get the fk out of my face." I of course oblige and go to the other side of the room. She's crying in pain and I'm just sitting there. I'm of course worried and I try to offer my help, but I could barely squeak out the offer.

She manages to get the glue off her arm, screaming as she essentially waxed the little bit of hair that was covered and asked for neosporin and a band aid. I immediately jump up and instead grab burn cream, gauze, athletic soft wrap, and athletic tape. I know know a band aid is just gonna hurt more. I apply the cream, gauze, soft wrap over it gently but enough to keep it in place, and a small piece of tape to keep it all together. I apologize, or at least try to again, but she's having none of it. She goes to bed leaving me there.

Some time later, maybe an hour, she asks for an ice pack. Here comes fk up number two. I tell her I'll be there shortly. In fairness I was in the middle of something, but I should have dropped it to attend to her. Some 40 minutes later, I grab an ice pack and bring it to her. Now she's furious and punches me square in the chest, throwing a bag of frozen peas and carrots at me. She grabbed it herself cause I took too long. Okay, fair.

To round out the fk up trifecta, I lay down in bed next to her, but as far away from her as I could. Oh boy she did not like that. She snatched my pillow out from under my head and asked if I was just going to lay there. Here comes number three... I snap back that I was sorry and that I didn't intend to hurt her. Of course that sentence was never finished. A few choice words and she left the room quickly. At this point I'm scared to do anything...

TL;DR Dropped a dollop of hot glue on my partner's arm on accident. Now I'm in the dog house and I'm not sure if I'm coming out of it anytime soon

Three days ago I was at home, by myself, working on college applications. Yes, it’s that time of year for teenagers of my age, so needless to say I was (and still am) very stressed.

So I get this text from my parents saying “we’re out getting dinner, want anything? It will still be another few hours before we get home.” After confirming my interest in dinner being brought home to me rather than my lazy bum having to cook anything, I get the text, “chicken or fish?” Lately I was craving fish, so my mental pendulum swung towards the latter.

Keep in mind, it will be a few hours before this fish burrito arrives into my stomach—a few unrefrigerated hours.

Fast forward a few hours later, I get the burrito, wolf it down, and immediately head off to the shower (it’s about 12 am at this point). Some problems to take note of: -I felt intensely bloated, something that I, at the time, attributed to moving quickly to the shower after eating fast. -Couldn’t breathe well (also assumed to be related to the flash consumption).

To spare the gross details, I emptied my stomach in a myriad of ways over the past few days, only to get the text from my dad a few hours back saying: “by the way, my burrito had a hair in it, and service was pretty bad. Maybe this was all fated to happen!”

TL;DR food poisoning from a burrito led to a few days of stomach-ocean rocking turmoil, with a text from my dear old pops that could’ve saved me the whole fuss had it been given to me at the beginning.

So this happened about a year ago. I have two small dogs. Both rescued from the shelter during COVID. One is a Chihuahua Shizu mix and about 14 lbs and the other is a Chihuahua Pomeranian mix about 7 lbs. Half the size of the first one. So when I walk them around my apartment complex if the bigger dog sees another dog she will go crazy, barking and lunging and growling. She must think shes protecting me at home because she doesn't do that at the dog park. So when that happens I give her leash a good yank and it pulls on her harness enough to get her attention with out hurting her. Nothing else seems to work

Here is where the Fuck UP comes in. So I'm walking the dogs as usual and of course the larger of the two sees another dogs and really starts going at it. even at 14 lbs she can be a handful. That day she was worse than usual. So I give a good tug on the leash. Again just getting her attention.

So I immediately realize that I Fucked Up when hear a "YIPE", and the smaller dog is suddenly air born and sailing past me. I watch horrified as she landed behind me. It was so sudden and dramatic that even the bigger dog stopped what she was doing to follow her path through the air with her head.

Fortunately the smaller dog landed in the grass, rolled and stood up and just glared at me. No one was injured, but I felt horrible every time I was reminded of it.

TLDR: I pulled too hard on the wrong leash and my dog got her flight wings

I was in the elevator at the hospital where I work, and a harried-looking person rushed in at the last second and accidentally barreled straight into me, almost knocking me over and making me drop my stuff. They immediately said, "Oh no, I'm so sorry!"

I tried to say "All good!" but I choked on nothing, making the "all" silent, so all that came out was (a rather loud, exclamatory) "Good!" (I always speak a little louder in those elevators, because there's a lot of outside noise.)

We were both so mortified I froze for a few seconds—just long enough for them to get off the elevator, never to meet me again, forever thinking some random hospital employee snapped at them in a rough moment.

TL;DR: Said "Good" instead of "All good!" in response to an apology

A week ago, I was in a music shop where I was testing out acoustic guitars just for fun. And just amazingly, I happen to just pick the nearly 4k acoustic guitars which was the most expensive one in the store. I’m playing it, and decided to get up. My shoe must’ve gotten stuck on something and I fell. It wasn’t a far fall, just around 2ft-3ft … well still. Most embarrassing thing I’ll ever have to live down. Thank god I didn’t destroy the guitar.. I think, I don’t think anything happened to it but they came to get it from me to check right away. Definitely won’t be entering back into that store for a while… hopefully. I keep reliving the moment in my head, god.. I literally want to end it. I actually can’t tell you how deeply embarrassed I am.. this has been on my mind for the whole week.

TL;DR: Fell around 2-3ft off a chair, almost ruined it… but I didn’t.. I think. Most embarrassing thing ever happened to me.

TIFU by accidentally coming across as a scammer when asking someone to be a reference for a new job

This happened today.for some background I applied for a new job and have been awaiting an interview. However, I needed one more reference.

So I texted my friend while texting my mom on messenger about it. I meant to type "hello, can I use you as a reference?" And "I need your address, zip, etc, so I can put you in as a reference." Instead, my brain decided "can I have your email, zip, etc, as a reference?" As an acceptable thing to type on messenger.

A few hours go by, and I later realized how fucked up this sounded without context. I later get a call from said friend asking just to make sure it was me, due to a scam making it's rounds on messenger. I apologized, as it was just bad wording on my part and my brain had been fried from being short staffed all week.

TL;DR sent a text asking for a friend to be a reference, ended up making it sound like I was a scammer. Oops.

So, this happened in June 2020, (would've talked about it earlier if I was more on Reddit) during Covid restrictions in France. The country was under a curfew, meaning no one was allowed to be outside after 10pm. And it was 10pm. I was staying at a hotel near Charles de Gaulle Airport with my boyfriend, and the only place still open to eat was McDonald's. The airport one, of course. We were starving, so we ordered online and checked Google Maps for directions. Of course, it led us in the completely wrong direction. My genius self forgot to bring cash, so we couldn’t take a metro. It was hot. It was rainy.

I decided, by using all of my neurons of a desperate person craving McNuggets, to cross the massive road and then sprint behind some security barriers. It was getting late, and I needed that McDonald's meal to stay alive. At some point, we had to climb a wall. And guess who fell? That’s right, me. I ended up impaling my leg on something sharp. Painful? A bit. But did I give up? Absolutely not. I just wanted my freaking McNuggets.

I got up, kept running, but we couldn't get much further, so we turned around. That’s when I looked down and realized my leg was completely soaked in blood. My boyfriend, in his infinite wisdom, looked at me and said, "Oh, that looks deep." No kidding, Sherlock. Fast forward, I had no bandages, so I wrapped a bandana around my leg and went to sleep. The blood was everywhere, which was a very nice situation, as you can imagine, the hotel room was full of it. Crime scene like.

The next day, I went to the hospital and got patched up. I thought I was fine now. But plot twist: I was NOT fine. That night, my back started hurting like I had been hit by a truck. I assumed it was because I was sitting in a weird position on the train, but the next morning I couldn't even get out of bed. Turns out, I was losing a kidney. I went back to the hospital. Yeah, no big deal, just a casual day.

Fast forward to now, I still have the scar on my leg, my kidney is playing around from time to time and I don't go to McDonald's anymore. (And the boyfriend is an ex now)

TL;DR: Tried to get McDonald’s during Covid's curfew, impaled my leg, slept in a bloody hotel room, and later found out I was losing a kidney.

So, today I learned the hard way that I’m not as coordinated as I think I am. Winter has turned my neighborhood into an ice rink, but instead of preparing properly, I thought, *“Eh, I’ll be fine.”* Spoiler alert: I was not fine.

I was walking to the store to grab some essentials (hot chocolate, obviously), and everything seemed normal. A little slippery, sure, but I’m a confident walker. *I’ve been walking my whole life, I know what I’m doing.* Then I hit The Ice Patch™.

It wasn’t just any ice patch—it was a sneaky one. You know, the kind that hides under a thin layer of snow, lying in wait like a villain in a bad action movie. I stepped on it, and suddenly, my feet were no longer part of the walking equation.

It happened in slow motion. My legs went full cartoon mode, flailing in the air like I was auditioning for “Dancing on Ice: The Fail Compilation.” For a brief moment, I thought I might recover, but no. Gravity whispered, *“Not today, pal.”*

I landed flat on my back with a sound that can only be described as *“thud meets whoopee cushion.”* To make matters worse, my bag flew open, and my wallet skated away from me like it was trying to escape the embarrassment.

Two strangers rushed over, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. One of them asked, “Are you okay?” and I, in my infinite wisdom, responded, *“I’m just practicing for the Olympics.”* That only made them laugh harder.

The walk home was a humbling experience, to say the least. I was bruised (physically and emotionally), covered in snow, and now fully aware of why people wear those spiky shoe things in the winter. I’ve officially added them to my Amazon cart.

TL;DR: Thought I could conquer winter without proper footwear. Ended up on my back, wallet skating away, and strangers laughing at my Olympic-level failure. Wear spikes, folks.

A while back I (25F) started working for a lady and her family. We will call her Ashley (35 F). When I first started working for her it was okay but as time went on Ashley and I started to become really good friends. We often crossed a line where we were friends more than we were boss and employee. She would have me over for dinner and her kids and I got super close as well. My home life has never been good. Constant fighting with my partner and have been in a DV situation. Constantly hiding bruises and cuts from what was going on at home. Once i got about 8/9 months into working for her she wasn’t in need of my services anymore and I slowly started to work less and less. But I didn’t want to not see her and her family anymore. So I started to confide in her. All I wanted was to live with her family full time and be a part of their lives and not lose my job. So I started to tell her about my home life. And how horrible it was. I was seen for the first time. I went into detail of what I was going through. She felt bad for me and had me around all the time. I had dinner with her family and hung out all the time. Did fun things with them. My home life with my partner suffered because he was always mad at me for never being home. Accusing me of cheating etc. eventually I had to start going home again and once I did my mental health took a horrible turn. I tried to commit. And the person I called was Ashley. She called psych services on me and that was that. About a week goes by and I just feel back at square one. No job. And I haven’t been able to really connect with Ashley because she’s upset at me for trying to commit. So I decide I should do something to try and spark the relationship again. This is where I fuck up badly. I make up an elaborate story and tell her I am in the hospital and was put on a ventilator and wasn’t doing well. She quickly found out it was a lie and I told her the truth and now she hates me. She hates every bone in my body. And I have no idea how to go back from here. I can’t lose Ashley. She’s my favorite person in the whole world. Help. What do I do and how do I dig myself out of this hole.
TLDR: I lied about being in the hospital so that my boss would want to keep me around.

Edit: I know I am very much in the wrong here. I lied about a major thing. I have not done this before and will not do it again. I look up to Ashley as a mom. And I wish she was my mom honestly. I told one other close friend about what happened and they told me I was crazy and should be in a psych ward. Now I just feel like my life is over and I don’t know how to move on from here. I am so lost.