Story Sent in by Chris:
Traci liked to scrapbook, and she had a website with photos of some of her more creative pieces. She said she was working on her best one yet and I expressed an interest in seeing it. She said she'd bring it on our date.
Early into lunch, she passed it to me across the table. I picked it up and opened it. It was full of loose, shattered glass that fell all over the table and my lap.
I barked an obscenity, slammed the book shut, stood up, and wiped myself off with a napkin, hoping to brush any shards off of myself. I then collected the shards I could find into a pile and planned to ask the waitstaff to borrow a broom when I realized that Traci was giving me the dirtiest of looks across the table.
Sarcastically, I said, "Don't help at all."
She asked, "What is your issue?"
I said, "The glass all over me and all over the table where we're about to eat."
She said, "Yeah. I know. That's part of the experience. It's an immersive piece. You don't have to get all bent out of shape over it. Give me my glass back."
No apology. No concern. Just all about her. What an idiot. I stopped collecting the glass and said, "You pick it up, then. I'm done."
I left her there and never saw her or her stupid killer scrapbooks again.