Stress About The Dress

, , , | Taylorsville, UT, USA | Hopeless | April 26, 2016

(I’m an overweight woman, who has always struggled with weight due to a non-functioning thyroid. I struggle to find a store that caters to larger brides until I find this one, so I go to see what they have. There’s a large woman (probably about 5’5″ and 350-380 pounds) on the stage in the center of the room having a fitting done. I’m browsing the catalogs when I hear an exchange between a daughter and her mother and the manager. The daughter is a thin girl who appears spoiled with how she talks. The daughter is staring at the larger woman on the stage, and leans in to her mother.)

Daughter: “I can’t believe someone like her is actually getting married!”

Mother: “I didn’t think whales mated for life!”

(The bride-to-be has clearly heard the comments, and is looking devastated. She takes a step away from the manager who is doing the fitting, but the manager stops her and walks up to the mother and daughter.)

Manager: “I can’t believe you think you’re going to get a dress from my store.”

Daughter: “Well, joke’s on you, then, because I’m actually here to pick it up! Besides, I’ve already paid.”

Manager: “Oh, you’re picking up your order? What’s the name?”

Mother: “It’s [Name].”

Manager: “All right…”

(The manager goes behind the counter, taps some things on the register, and then hands a receipt.)

Manager: “I need you to sign this.”

Mother: “What’s this?”

(The mother signs anyway.)

Manager: “That’s you signing that you have accepted a full refund for your purchase. You can find another store to get your dresses. I just cancelled your order and am refusing you service. Now leave before I call the police.”


(The daughter starts throwing things around.)

Mother: “We had those dresses custom made! How could you cancel her order?! Look at her!”

Manager: “I cancelled the order because I am not going to let any bride feel like she’s not worthy of marriage just because of her size. Clearly you both feel that you are better than others, and I have no place for clients that are, frankly, a**-holes. I’m calling the police, and since I still have your card information, I’m going to charge you for whatever damages your daughter causes.”

(The manager picked up the phone. The mother grabbed her daughter and they rushed out of the door. I ended up buying my dress from them, and it was BEAUTIFUL! Turned out the manager had a daughter who had a severe thyroid disease and had struggled with weight as well!)

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If You Tire On It Gets Better

, , , , | Kissimmee, FL, USA | Hopeless | April 26, 2016

(My fiancé and I bought our car last summer. It’s a 20 year old SUV and the tires are almost completely shot. However, we can’t afford to replace them because not long after we bought it and moved into our new place, my fiancé lost his job. On our way home, the front left tire zippers, thankfully right as I am pulling into the parking lot behind our building, so we have to put the very old spare on it. After that, things just keep popping up that prevent us from being able to afford the tires, like hours getting cut at work, or a sudden bill that has to be paid immediately. We decide that we we’re going to replace them when we get our tax returns this year. This happens when we are coming home from meeting with a caterer we are considering for our wedding (which my parents are helping pay for). He is the one driving and he feels something strange in the car’s pull, so he pulls over and looks at the tires before getting back in the car.)

Fiancé: “We need to stop at the tire shop before going home.”

(We decide to try and see if we can get the tires on credit. We’d stopped at this shop once before, as it was recommended to us by the guy at the Auto Zone, but we didn’t have the money.)

Tire Guy: *is running my fiance’s credit, since we already know that mine isn’t good enough* “Yeah, you were declined… Are you guys sure you don’t have any way to pay? You need them today, and I don’t feel comfortable letting you guys leave with those tires.”

Me: *about to cry* “We don’t have anything; I have about $2 in the bank.”

Fiancé: “And all I have is the money for our rent.” *looks at me* “I don’t know what to do.”

Other Tire Guy: *tapping away at the other computer and looks at the guy helping us* “Wait, what about [Name]’s tires?”

Tire Guy: “That’s true… We could ask him.”

Fiancé: “Wait, what?”

Tire Guy: “One of our coworkers, [Name], just got a new car. When we get new cars, we all usually swap out the tires for better ones. Our boss lets us sell them here if we want to.”

Me: *just stares*

Tire Guy: *goes into the maintenance bay to talk to the other guy, who turns out to be the man who had talked to us the last time we stopped in, and who remembers us. Comes back a couple minutes later* “Okay, so he said he wants to give you guys the tires. No charge.”

Me: *just starts crying*

Fiancé: “Are you serious?”

Tire Guy: “Yep! So we’ll install them and make sure everything’s okay.”

Me: “Can I give him a hug?”

(They installed the tires and picked the best of our four old ones to replace the spare. They also disposed of the old tires for us, including the one that had blown out which was in the back of our car. All at no charge. We still can’t believe this happened. Amazingly, it was the first thing in a number of good things that started happening for us, including his hours at work stabilizing and me getting a promotion and a raise.)

Driving Home The Kindness, Part 3

, , | Denmark | Hopeless | April 26, 2016

(My period has hit me like a truck one day and I’m making my way towards the train station to get home. It’s becoming very hard to even stand, much less walk straight and I sit down to take break, but I’m obviously in pain. A woman stops to ask what’s wrong and, when I explain, goes off to get some painkillers for me. Unfortunately, my stomach decides that the source of the pain must be the poison I just drank and throws it right up.)

Woman: “Oh, dear! You know what? I’ll call my daughter and she’ll give you a ride home. Just stay here a moment!”

(Her daughter drove me all the way home and talked very kindly to me so I could relax but still give some directions. Despite it being a miserable day, I remember it very fondly.)


Been To Hell(‘s Angels) And Back

, , | WA, USA | Hopeless | April 25, 2016

(Our theatre has a lecture series where authors give presentations. One presenter is a Holocaust survivor. I am very surprised to see a large and stereotypical ‘biker’ come in. He has a leather vest, sleeveless shirt, tattoos, and a beard. As the holocaust survivor is presenting, two teenage boys are being very rowdy and whispering to each other.)

Boy #1: “God! When the f*** is this going to be over?”

Boy #2: “I don’t know. Can we just go now?”

(They stand up, and attempt to leave. The biker stands up, removes his sunglasses, and addresses the teens.)

Biker: “Listen here you little s***. This sweet little old lady has gone through more s*** then you ever will in your life. I advise you to sit your little punk-a** down, and pay her the respect she deserves.”

(The boys sit down, intimidated. The biker receives a round of applause and a hug from the lecturer. I refund his ticket, and offer him free entrance to all our lectures. He’s been to each and every one since.)

Coffee For The Monkeys

, , , , | Milwaukie, OR, USA | Hopeless | April 25, 2016

(My daughter has an unusual name, and even when we write the pronunciation beside the spelling on forms or other documents, people still always mispronounce it. She is eight years old. We are at a coffee shop and each person in our family is getting a drink.)

Husband: “Flat white.”

Barista: “Name?”

Husband: “[Husband].”

Me: “They would each like a caramel frappuccino with whipped cream.”

Barista: *to my older daughter* “Your name?”

Older Daughter: “[Older Daughter].”

Barista: *to my younger daughter* “Your name?”

(I can see my daughter hesitating to say her name because it is never a simple process, even if you say it, then spell it immediately, people always comment on it.)

Me: *to her* “You can give any name you want. It doesn’t have to be YOUR name.”

Younger Daughter: *to barista* “Monkey Face!”

Barista: *laughing* “Okay, Monkey Face!” *to the drink-maker* “Here is a cup for Monkey Face.” *they both laugh and my daughter is happy*

Me: “And I’d like [my order], please.”

Barista: “You must be Mom?”

Me: “Yes. You can just put ‘Mom’ on mine.”

(When we picked up our drinks, I saw she had actually written “SuperMom!” on my cup. I “awww”ed and thanked her. Very sweet.)