Our new manager is from the UK (the brother-in-law of the owner), and he’s the chillest and most straight-to-the-point individual I have ever met. He seems to have brought his management style over from “across the pond” because where previous managers would bend over backward to appease every whiny customer, this one just… gets it.

A customer has called over the manager because she ordered an expensive truffle pasta dish that actually contains truffle shavings, but then, she decided she didn’t like the truffle flavor. She is complaining that it hasn’t been taken off the bill.

Manager: “You’re being charged for an item that you ordered that contained ingredients that were both listed on the menu and explained to you when you ordered.”

Customer: “But I didn’t like it.”

Manager: “I’m sorry about that. Would you like to order something else?”

Customer: “No.”

Manager: “Okay, is there anything else I can do for you?”

Customer: “I don’t want to pay for this.”

Manager: “I’m sorry that you feel that way.”

My manager walks away to deal with something else but is summoned back to the customer two minutes later.

Customer: “Why is this still on my bill?”

Manager: “Haven’t we been over this?”

I’m sure he is being deliberately obtuse, and maybe some could view his stance as a little antagonistic, but after years of having a manager kowtowing to every customer for every trivial thing, I’m not going to deny the satisfaction we all get from getting a manager who does the exact opposite.

When the owner complains to the manager that this attitude means these customers won’t come back, his only response is:

Manager: “You’re welcome.”

My husband injured his back and can’t lift heavy things. When we go grocery shopping, I do the loading and unloading. We just came from our local bulk retailer, so everything is big and often heavier than he is comfortable lifting. He climbs in the car, and I start unloading the cart.

A man is passing by and speaks up. 

Man: “What’s wrong? Don’t you have a man to do that for you?”

Me: “I’m fine, thank you.”

Man: “I see him in the car. Why doesn’t he help?”

Me: “I said I’m fine.”

Man: “I just think women shouldn’t do heavy lifting like that. Your body isn’t—”

Me: *Sigh* “Fine, load my car.”

Man: “What?”

Me: “Are you not a man?”

Man: “I’m not your husband!”

Me: “Then maybe f*** off.”

He walks off, but I can hear him muttering to himself. When I get in the car, my husband is sitting in his seat grinning. 

Husband: *Joking* “You poor, useless woman.”

Me: “I know, I know.”

I’m an American in Japan, and my boyfriend is Japanese. My parents decided to come visit my boyfriend and me for Christmas, and together we plan to go on a short trip. However, my boyfriend and his family don’t speak much English, while my parents don’t speak much Japanese, so my parents decided to study Japanese while my boyfriend studied a little English so they could meet in the middle.

Today, my mom called because she was excited to tell me all she has learned.

Mom: “彼氏は美味しいですか？” “Kareshi ha oishiidesuka?”

That translates to “Is your boyfriend delicious?”

When we laughed, she immediately fixed it and changed 美味しい/oishii (delicious) to 優しい/yasashi (friendly), but we were already all laughing so hard.

I can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world because both my boyfriend and my parents love me so much they’re willing to learn foreign languages (and incredibly difficult ones, at that) so that they can communicate with the other half of my life.

CONTENT WARNING: Blood (Minor Injury)
 

During my first pregnancy, we moved to a new apartment and started renovating the kitchen. To paint the walls properly, we wanted to remove the old skirting boards first. Now, not everyone might know this, but even when the stomach stands out and is impossible to miss as you cannot see your own feet, you don’t really feel that it is there. It is difficult to explain, but your motor skills still tell you that your stomach ends where it used to.

Everyone told me to be careful and rest, but I wanted to help. I couldn’t move very well and didn’t have high stamina at the time, but I found that I could help remove the skirting boards. My nesting instincts took over for a while, and I was very adamant about getting things in order, so that is what I did. While we were home (but not currently working on the kitchen), I sat down on the floor and started to carefully loosen the boards from the walls.

Husband: “Be careful now!”

Me: “Don’t worry.”

Husband: “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Me: “It isn’t that hard.”

Not long after I said that, I got to a part that was rather well stuck, but I could feel that with a small, controlled yank, I could get it loose. I was right. The only problem, as explained before, was that I miscalculated the room I had for my “little yank” before yanking the board right into my stomach.

After the yank, everything went quiet as I looked at the blood coming from where the wood had pierced my stomach.

Me: “Oops.”

Husband: “What happened?!”

He yelled and came running.

Me: “I stabbed myself in the stomach.”

Husband: “WHAT?!”

I laughed then. It honestly wasn’t that bad; it had just grazed the surface, but it looked a lot more dramatic since I was, in fact, bleeding. My husband wanted to take me to the hospital, but I calmed him down. It was nowhere near dangerous to the child, and I could feel that all was well in there.

Safe to say, after that, I could only help out when no one was home to stop me. The baby came out alive and well and is now four years old.

I haven’t had such polite customers in a while. It was two young kids who looked to be ten or eleven. They came in and asked if we still sold our boba tea drinks.

Me: “Of course. The menu is here. What flavors would you like?”

It took a minute, but they decided on two drinks: a mango and a plain milk tea.

The total was $12.42, and they emptied their hoodie pockets onto the countertop. It was mostly coins, and they had a few single dollar bills. Admittedly, I thought their parents hadn’t given them enough, but…

Kid #1: “We’ve been saving quarters just for your drinks!”

Kid #2: “We don’t know how much we have. Can you count it for us, please?”

I was going to spot them if they didn’t have enough — they were truly sweet kids — but they had enough.

I brewed the best boba drinks I had ever made. They were the politest guests I’d had in weeks. I made sure these cups were filled to the brim, with extra pearls and everything — the whole nine yards. These were blue ribbon-worthy drinks by the time I had them done.

They even pushed their chairs back in place. That’s a rarity where I work.

I know this is boring compared to a lot of stories, but it made my day, and I just wanted to share it. I hope they enjoyed their drinks today. They also insisted on tipping me a dollar in quarters “just because”.