Back when I was in grade school we went on a fieldtrip to a ‘science and ecology center.’

When we got there, we found out two things: One, my teacher knew the people who owned the science and ecology center. Two, it wasn’t actually set up yet; the main building was still under construction, but they had a few temporary inflatable buildings and a large garden.

Rather than explore the handful of exhibits in the temporary buildings, the teacher lead us to the garden and handed us all seeds.

We spent the whole fieldtrip planting radishes, cucumbers, carrots, and other vegetables so that kids who would visit when the center officially opened would be able to buy ‘locally grown veggies.’

Our parents had to pay $35 and pack lunches for this. The fallout from upset parents was bad enough that our teacher got fired at the end of the school year.

In high school, my band went on a summer trip from our home in Colorado to Calgary, Alberta. At the time, traveler’s cheques were the ideal way to carry large amounts of money on vacation.

Since we’d all bought our traveler’s cheques in Colorado, they were in US funds. Whenever we had to cash in one of our cheques in Canada, the businesses would convert the US dollars to Canadian dollars and then give us the change in Canadian cash. Additionally, if someone had US cash, the businesses would take it and give change in Canadian money. However, they understandably weren’t able to conduct the whole transaction in US currency. They were directed to drop all US cash in a safe, and their managers would take care of getting it exchanged en masse on a weekly basis.

On our way back, we stopped for fast food while we were still in Canada. I only had one traveler’s cheque for money; I’d spent all the Canadian cash I’d accrued over our trip. So, for a $2 hamburger, I got $20-plus in change after cashing in my $20 traveler’s check. “Oh, well,” I thought. “I guess I’ll just have souvenir money.”

Once we crossed the border back into the US (Montana specifically), our buses pulled into a convenience store within sight of the border station. I went in to buy snacks and tried to pay with Canadian cash just as I’d used US cash in Canada.

Clerk: *Looking at me snottily* “We don’t accept that here!”

I guess being an ugly American doesn’t just apply to Americans abroad.

CONTENT WARNING: Pet Death
I had the same dog for half of my life. When she finally passed away last year at almost sixteen, I was devastated as she was my best friend. My mom paid for the cremation as money was very tight right then, but I didn’t ask her to pay the extra to get her cremated separately — they return the dog’s ashes that way — as I already felt bad enough about the whole situation.

I posted on Facebook about a rosebush I had planted in her memory, and it came up that I hadn’t been able to bring her home because of the money. When people on the page I posted her plant on found out, they called the vet to pay the difference so I could bring her home.

Not only that, but a month later, I found a puppy that I wanted and made arrangements for the breeder to hold him for me until I could get the rest of the money for him. (Don’t judge; none of the shelters had a dog that would work for my needs.) A friend paid the deposit for me, but I still needed a few hundred to finish paying for him. I mentioned that on a breed-specific Facebook page that I was making payments, and a complete stranger sent me the rest of the money I needed to bring him home.

It took a crappy situation and made it better by reminding me that there are good people in the world and by giving me a new dog to love.

UPDATE FROM THE OP:

Update because of people being judgy in the comments.

I didn’t have the money to have my original dog cremated because she died on a Sunday and the emergency vet charged several hundred just to have you walk through the door plus over $100 for the medication to put her to sleep and over a hundred more for the cremation. My girl went from fine to needing her final vet trip in less than 12 hours and I wasn’t going to leave her suffering until Monday because it would be cheaper. THAT is why I didn’t have the full amount in my emergency fund.

As far as getting a new dog, I hadn’t intended on getting a new dog after my girl passed. But I fell into a deep depression as my girl had been my ESA. I checked the shelters in our immediate town as well as several others but they had no small dogs. I live in a small apartment with a small yard and didn’t feel like it was fair to cram a big dog into a space that they wouldn’t be comfortable in. I also was hesitant about getting a rescue because I had a rescue cat at the time and was worried that a second rescue animal would be harder to acclimate to a kitty that already had issues.

As far as handling the care of my new boy, he cropped up with kidney issues just after his first birthday. I took him to the vet and put him through 6 months of an intensive and specialized (and expensive) diet and he now has a clean bill of health. I paid for his vet bills and treatments myself as he is my responsibility and I know that. I am on temporary disability at the moment so that’s why money is tight but I will sacrifice so my pets don’t have to go without. Making payments was for the owner to hold him until I was able to get the paycheck to pay for him, I never once asked for or expected help and posted my story because I was blessed, not so others could judge me.

I used to work at a fast food chain, and because I had decent customer service skills, I would usually be placed in the drive-thru taking orders.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the ordering manager had deliberately shorted the store on orders for the week to account for the fact that we would be closed on Thanksgiving. We would get a truck on Friday to restock.

However, the manager hadn’t accounted for Thanksgiving gluttony starting early. We ran out of fries a few hours into my shift. Cue repeats of this exchange for the next several hours.

Customer: “I’d like a large [combo] with a large fry….”

Me: “I’m so sorry, we’re out of fries for the day.”

This was usually followed by many choice swearwords from the customers followed by screeching tires.

I had never been so glad to close the store as I was that day.

I used to work at a very popular fast food chain, and I was fairly good with the customers, so I was usually put on a cash register.

One day, I was taking orders and money at the back cash, which was right across from the freezer.  My stoner coworker proceeded to come out of the back freezer carrying half a dozen frozen chicken patties for the fryer. As he was coming past my register, he dropped them all on the floor. I didn’t think too much of it as the proper procedure was to get new chicken patties out of the freezer and throw the dropped ones away. 

A few minutes later, I realized that my coworker never came to the freezer for replacement patties, and I snagged the shift manager who was walking by.

Me: “[Manager], [Coworker] dropped the most recent batch of chicken on the floor and put it into the fryer anyway.”

Manager: “Well, if it was frozen, the hot grease will kill any germs.”

At this point, I looked at the floor, which was covered in grease, fry bits, paper, and other standard fast food gunk, and then I looked back at my manager.

Me: “Do you really wanna serve a customer something that has been on this floor? Would you want to eat it? What if they get garbage or hair in their chicken?”

My managed cursed quietly and went to put fresh chicken down. The floor chicken got discarded, and my coworker was yelled at for trying to serve floor chicken.