Sign In Please Puns

I’ve been here two hours and she is still on her feet.

Please raise your finger if you know the answer.

An engineer who was unemployed for a long time decided to open a medical clinic. He puts a sign outside the clinic: "A cure for your ailment guaranteed at $500; we'll pay you $1,000 if we fail."

A Doctor thinks this is a good opportunity to earn $1,000 and goes to his clinic.

Doctor: "I have lost my sense of taste."

Engineer: "Nurse, please bring the medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in the patient's mouth."

Doctor: "This is Gasoline!"

Engineer: "Congratulations! You've got your taste back. That will be $500."

The Doctor gets annoyed and goes back after a couple of days later to recover his money.

Doctor: "I have lost my memory, I cannot remember anything."

Engineer: "Nurse, please bring the medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in the patient's mouth."

Doctor: "But that is Gasoline!"

Engineer: "Congratulations! You've got your memory back. That will be $500."

The Doctor leaves angrily and comes back after several days, more determined than ever to make his money back.

Doctor: "My eyesight has become weak."

Engineer: "Well, I don't have any medicine for this. Take this $1,000," passing the doctor a $500 note.

Doctor: "But this is $500..."

Engineer: "Congratulations! You've got your vision back! That will be $500."

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

He was operating a late night train and fell asleep at the controls. He ended up failing to recognise a stop sign and as a result his train hit a person and killed them immediately. He was tried for manslaughter and sentenced to the electric chair. Just before being put in the chair, he was given the choice of final meal and chose a single banana, oddly. His time came and he was placed into the chair, the room vacated and then the switch was thrown.

But... Nothing. No sparks, no burning, nothing. They checked the machine and it was working fine, it just seemed not to harm him. The state law meant that, legally, his sentence had been carried out and he was free to go. He walked away a free man, and actually got another job as a train driver.

Sadly, almost exactly the same thing happened again. This time his negligence killed two kids playing around on the tracks when again he'd fallen asleep and failed to stop the train in time. Hauled before the courts again, he got exactly the same sentence - the electric chair. He was asked again for his final meal, chose two bananas this time, and his sentence was carried out again.

And yet again, he didn't die. In fact, he was entirely unharmed. The state law remained the same, so he was let out again, where - somehow - he got another job with another train company. I guess it was the only job he was trained for (pardon the pun). Anyway, this time he did much better and worked hard to stay awake during his late shifts. But sure enough, eventually he slipped back in to old habits and this time killed five people - a family trying to free their dog stuck in the tracks.

Once again he faced a jury, once again they found him guilty and a judge sentenced him to the electric chair. This time he asked for 5 bananas, but the guard was wiley - he has read about this man and how he always had bananas before his sentence was carried out, and so this time (with a grin, it's said) he brought the train driver 5 apples instead. The guilty man plead and begged for bananas, but the guard claimed it was an honest mistake but too late to change now.

The man was lead for a third time to the electric chair. His head was wetted, his arms strapped in, and the guard eyed him with something between wonder and fear. Finally the room was vacated and the switch thrown. Surely this time the machine would do its job? With the process finished, the guard ran back into the room, only to find the man still alive and looking entirely healthy. "I do

A Roman man walked into a bar. He holds up two fingers in a peace sign and and says "5 beers please."

but a string of words in sign-language is a deaf sentence.

Edit: please don't thank me, just pay it forward.

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

Went to check out the bears. When I arrived at their pen, there was a sign on the door that said:

We apologize, but this pen is currently empty and "bear-ren." Please "bear" with us as we continue to perform some maintenance on this pen. The bears that live here should be back in a couple of hours. We apologize for any convenience this has caused."

I like this zoo already. XD

We are at his martial arts competition and saw a sign on the bathroom before we walked in: Please Do Not Walk Bearfoot in the Bathroom

Without missing a beat, I looked at him and said, "I guess it's a good thing we have people feet." There was a substantial groan.

Pic of the sign in the comments. Edit: never mind, it won't let me post the picture.

[Driving down an unfamiliar part of I-95 highway with family (wife, 15yo son and 15yo daughter) when I had this conversation with my son:]

Son: Dad, where are we?

Me: Florida.

Son: No, Dad, more specific than that. Where are we?

Me : (reading exit sign) Wickham Road.

Son: Where's Wickham Road?

Me: (pause a bit for effect) Florida...

Son: (frustrated grunt) No, Dad, what town are we in?

Me: (reading exit sign again) Viera.

Son: How far is that from Vero? [our destination]

Me: About three letters.

[Satisfactory groans throughout car. Very pleased with self.]

I'm not sure if this qualifies as a dad joke, but... Whenever I missed school in my childhood or had to have something signed, like a progress report, I would usually have my mom sign it. The few times I forgot where she had already left for work, I would have my dad sign it. I would never look at it and just rush off to the bus. I would get to school and hand it into my teacher and she would look at me like I was an idiot and hand me the paper back:

"To whomever it may concern, Robrak was ill yesterday, please excuse his absence.

Abraham Lincoln"

Walking in to a restaurant, He points at the sign reading "please wait to be seated"........ "That's what farm fields do".

Yeah, it was OC to everyone with us.

Every regular shift has to be certified to use CPR in case of an emergency, and there was an announcement about a class on the announcements, but it was phrased in a weird way.

"If you need CPR, please sign up at the front desk."

Well I can't really sign up as I'm very near death right now.

Please forgive me but I just found this subreddit and after seeing another post it reminded me.

When I was in high school I took American Sign Language as my foreign language. Taught my sister the alphabet and for about two months she refused to speak, only used the ASL alphabet. AFTER getting a little tired of it one day I put my hand over my eyes and screamed "I can't hear you!"

We may have both cracked up for about 10 minutes because this was not an intentional joke.

When we dial in and enter our conference code, it then says, "after the tone, please say your name, followed by the pound sign." I am always tempted to say, obviously, "your name, followed by the pound sign." It being a professional office and all, I can never bring myself to do it. But in this "dad jokes" forum, I think I found my home. Thanks everyone!

So, workers at our office occasionally have their packages shipped to our work place. I think it's so that they have someone to sign off on them, or for security reasons. Either way, there were a couple IKEA packages dropped off today, and one of the admins wrote:

"We received 2 large IKEA boxes today. They do not have name on them. They are in the main hall near the front entry. Please pick up at your convenience. Please let me know who they belong to."

to which I replied all (bold, I know):

"Well I have no... IKEA."

(i'm only 24, going on 25. with no plan of kids for years, but i hope i did you guys proud)