Cognitive Inequality

When I first started my manager was this really cool guy and he set a matter-of-fact no nonsense tone to working there that I emulated. So as part of my training he brought me to a display case full of glass toys.

These are stunning solid glass pieces that just so happen to be shaped into gentle curves. Honestly several were abstract and beautiful enough to be displayed on a mantelpiece. They can be used with any kind of lube, they’re easy to sterilize and overall they’re excellent sex toys.

But I, like every other person, am the culmination of my lived experience. Glass breaks. I know this to be true, I’ve dropped glasses and plates and the fear of glass breaking was all I could see looking into that display.

My manager was well aware. He calmly informed me that I was looking at triple fired borosilicate and he pulled one out and banged it on the counter with all his might making me jump ten feet in the air. But there was the glass toy, triumphant and unscathed in his hand, after leaving a new dent on the counter. Forget sex, these things were viable murder weapons.

Over the years I worked there I did the exact same demo he did hundreds of times, smacking the solid glass onto the unyielding counter and showing off how sturdy the glass was. “Theres nothing your vagina can do to harm this,” I’d assure people.

So one day I had a group of three ladies looking at them, tittering nervously to each other. I assured them that these were extremely safe and they smiled skeptically.

“Really,” I said, pulling out an example, “our bodies are soft and wet, we have no way of damaging these.” I lifted it and brought it down onto the counter like I had a thousand times before. Like I’d seen countless times from my coworkers.

Except this time. The toy decided it must give up its grip on the mortal coil. It rebelled against its treatment of smacking the counter with a display of explosive protest. It shattered.

The women screamed and flinched back as I stood frozen in absolute perplexity as my mind tried to make sense of what had just happened. The toy had broken in huge safety glass sized chunks, leaving me a nub in my grip while it’s former glory lay in pieces all around me.

I looked back up at the ladies, speechless. They all broke into hysterical laughter. “Your face!” They gasped while clutching each other to stay on their feet.

“I- I’ve done this demo hundreds of times- it’s- it’s never broken!”

They crowed even harder as I sweeped up the mess, still in disbelief and horror at what I’d done. “Well. I at least know your bodies can’t provide that much force to a toy… I can’t believe this, it’s never broken before.” I babbled on in embarrassment to their obvious disbelief.

This isn't a slight to anyone, it's just that I run into this constantly and it is so so important to remember, when it's involves things that are not the power of a vaginal spasm versus triple fired borosilicate sex toys.

Like whenever someone says "this was built to last" Yes - true, but, it does not heal. If you do not inspect and maintain said thing (e.g., an I-beam clamp), one day the exact same force you have applied to it for the past X years will cause it to fail.

Sometimes in spectacular (read: catastrophic) fashion. Other times in mildly annoying ways.

People - remember this story. Remember how funny it is because no one got hurt [besides OP's pride] and how novel due to the setting, and remember the lesson: Objects don't heal.

Every time I bump my dishes now I think:

but it's an entirely new level of tragic when somebody you've actually spoken to gets turned into a bot account. it's like peeking at a zombie apocalypse through the window and realizing one of the shambling corpses was your friend.

and then the zombie catches sight of you, lurches up to your window, and shouts through the glass that they accidentally reported your account to tumblr and you'll be deactivated unless you click this link.

if you get something like this ↑ they're gonna follow up by instructing you to contact tumblr support on discord and give you contact info; or they're gonna link a website that looks sort of like tumblr support and say you have to email them; or any variety of "you must now contact tumblr, here is how you contact tumblr."

whatever they send you, it Does Not lead to tumblr. it leads to the master zombie that bit them and inducted them into the ranks of the undead, and will bite you the second they have your email and password. i might be confusing zombies and vampires. anyway,

it's easier to fall for these messages because the blog doesn't LOOK like a bot blog, because it ISN'T a bot blog. it's a normal person's blog that got accessed by a bot, meaning the blog's content CLEARLY looks like a real active user when you click on it. and yes—it might even be a blog you already know. sometimes bots like this go down a blog's DMs or reblogs and message people they've previously interacted with.

the baffling papple:

so the doctor (back then) ordered labs and it turned out my vitamin d level was like 5 or 7 and i've never seen a doctor so elated about lab results in my entire life. she said, 'it's never. vitamin d. but it is this time. we can fix this. you're going to feel better.'

she was literally like