My son got his learner’s permit last year, and I was thus obligated to ride along with him and try to teach him how to be a good driver. For the most part, he learned quickly, but my biggest complaint was how he drove in our own neighborhood. Despite my constant warnings that kids played in our streets all the time and were regularly running between cars with little warning, [Son] seemed to think I was being paranoid.

He never went quite as slow as I’d like on the roads, though he was still going slower than some reckless drivers in our development. More worrying, though, was his complete lack of situation awareness. He didn’t pay enough attention to the road ahead or scan for potential risks.

We were coming back home from a practice drive when I noticed a car parked on the side of the road had its blinkers on.

Me: “The car ahead has its blinkers on.”

I don’t know how he does it, but I could hear the eye roll in his response.

Son: “It’s not even movin—”

Me: “—STOP!”

Son: “Wah?”

[Son] wasted a precious fraction of a second trying to figure out why I was shouting at him and composing his witty verbal response. During that time, the door of the car with its blinkers on started to open right in front of us.

I grabbed the steering wheel from my spot in the passenger seat and twisted it to turn us into the other lane, since I had been watching the road and potential hazards. I knew there was no car coming in that lane, so it was safe to swerve into it.

Me: “Brake!”

[Son] belatedly listened and slammed the brakes. We ended up sitting diagonally across both lanes. Had the door of the car in front of us opened fully, we would still have run into it and ripped it off its hinges. Luckily, the door stopped only a fraction of the way open, which meant that the turn into the other lane was enough to avoid hitting it.

I’d shouted a stop because I’d seen someone opening the door, but hadn’t had enough time to process who it was opening it. Now that we were stopped, I could look into the car proper, to see a young child sitting in the driver’s side seat of the car. A young woman was in the passenger side seat and had stretched over the seat and across the lap of the young child to yank the door shut as best as she could.

Eventually, she managed to get herself and the child out of the car. The child was crying and upset, but she still came over to check to make sure we were okay and apologize. Once the child had calmed down, I got a little more detail as to what had happened.

The child had wanted to play in his aunt’s new car, and so she had allowed him to do so only after repeatedly warning him that he wasn’t allowed to open the driver’s side doors without first getting permission from her. The child disregarded this rule, and his aunt had to grab the door to keep him from jumping out and getting struck by us.

Luckily, she had been paying enough attention to realize what was happening in time to grab the door. She apologized profusely to us and thanked us for not striking her car or the child.

As frightening as the situation was at the time, I have to say it worked wonders on [Son]. From that moment onward, he started driving much more slowly on neighborhood roads and was always watching for children.

Meanwhile, I spoke to the dad of the child who had been playing in his aunt’s car, and his dad says he has been far better about obeying their road safety rules since the incident. It seems the near disaster scared both boys enough to convince them they may want to listen when their elders warn them of something.

Our shoe store is doing a “buy one, get one half off” sale. The way it works is you buy a more expensive pair, and you get the cheaper of the two for half the price. 

A woman is buying two pairs of kids’ shoes for her two kids.

Customer: *Looking at her receipt.* “Wait! Why isn’t this other pair cheaper!?”

Me: “That second pair is half off, ma’am, so it’s $30. The regular price was $60.”

Customer: “It ain’t buy one get one free?!”

Me: “No, ma’am.” *I point to the very clear sign.* “It’s buy one, get one half off.”

Customer: “Return this one then. Thirty is too much. The little one is a foster kid; he’s not worth it.”

I couldn’t help but look at the smaller child, and he didn’t even blink. I really hope it wasn’t because he was used to being treated like that.

My manager, who overheard and whose heart broke at the comment, stepped in and was able to override the system to make it “buy one get one free” so that the poor kid could get a new pair of shoes just like his ‘sibling’.

After she leaves, another customer voices their opinion.

Other Customer: “She probably did that on purpose, you realize?”

Manager: “Did what?”

Other Customer: “The whole ‘foster kid’ bleeding heart routine. She probably lied to make you give her the other pair of shoes for free. Shoulda held firm.”

Manager: “Maybe. But if you’re right, the poor kid has a monster of a mother who is willing to deny him new shoes for a scam. And if you’re wrong, he still has a monster of a foster mother who is unwilling to pay for new shoes. Either way, I made sure the poor kid got a d*** pair of shoes.”

The other customer shrugged, but didn’t argue.

I live in the only real “city” in a pretty rural area, so our big shopping mall tends to attract families who come in from nearby villages for their big stock-up trips a couple of times a year. This was back when self-checkouts were still a novelty, but our mall’s grocery store already had a few. 

I’m using one when the machine next to me frees up. A trio swoops in: a grandmother, a mother, and a little girl who’s maybe four, all clearly on an Exciting Family Shopping Adventure. Their cart is packed.

They poke at the touchscreen for a bit until they get the hang of it, and then Grandma starts scanning. After every single item, Grandma leans in and makes the most enthusiastic little “Beep!” sound.

After a minute, Mum suddenly asks:

Mum: “Mum, can I do the beep, too? I’ve always wanted to do that since I was a kid!”

Grandma bursts out laughing and says:

Grandma: “Of course! It’s fun, isn’t it? I always wanted to do it, too!”

So now both of them are doing dramatic, delighted BEEPs with every item, and the little girl gets her turn as well, with some help from her mother. They’re absolutely thrilled, and honestly? It was adorable.

The attendant monitoring the self-checkout eventually walks over, smiling so hard I thought her face might crack, and gives them a small discount.

Attendant: “Because you ladies just made my whole shift.”

I am flying for work on an airline with open seating, the flight attendant is keeping everyone going with:

Flight Attendant: “Welcome to Cattle Car Air, MOOOve along to the back of the plane.”

There are two seats open in a row. I got the window seat, stashed my bag, put on my headphones, and was ready to pass out after a long work trip. I’m half asleep in my own little world when I get a poke from the other guy in the row:

Passenger: “Hey, they are asking if anyone is willing to move so a mom can sit with her kid.”

Me: “Huh, okay, whatever, do we need to move?”

Passenger: “Great, I’ll tell the flight attendant.”

He waves and points at me. The flight attendant comes over and says to me:

Flight Attendant: “Great, I have a seat in the back. We can’t take off till we get this settled.”

Me: *Only half awake.* “Uh, yeah, okay, I need my bag.”

Flight Attendant: “Don’t worry, point it out and I will get it. We have overhead room, but only middle seats left.”

Some people start clapping, and I’m confused and wondering if I’m dreaming. I found out later that there was a hold-up and some arguments in the back of the plane when I zoned out. The flight was close to being deplaned over unruly behavior, as they couldn’t find two seats together for the mother and toddler.

The attendant filled me in during the flight and insisted I get an in-flight drink on the house (Irish coffee, BTW). 

A month later, I got a thank-you letter and three more drink tickets; apparently, it really was some drama I missed.

When I worked at a sandwich place in high school, there was this guy who came in with his wife almost every day. He was a complete jerk and talked to you like you were an idiot. Not because he was in a bad mood, but because he thought it was funny to be an a** to kids working fast-food jobs.

One day, I had enough.

Customer: “Make sure you get my sandwich right this time. This is the best job you dropouts are ever gonna have, so don’t f*** it up.”

I took the sandwich I was in the middle of making and threw it into the garbage can.

Me: “Oh, just f*** off.”

Customer: “You can’t talk to customers that way!”

Me: “I just did. F*** off.”

Customer: “I’ve got the owner’s number, and I know your name!”

Me: *Pushing my name tag forward.* “Make sure you spell it right when you call him.”

He did call the owner, right in front of me. He dropped my name and tried to get me fired, but ended up with a very sour face and stormed out.

Later, I found out what happened from the owner. He’d said:

Owner: “If [My Name] blew up on you like that, then I know it was probably deserved. You must have been the a**hole of all a**holes. Please don’t return.”

Customer: “You allow your people to talk to customers that way?!”

Owner: “Not customers, just you. It takes a lot to get [My Name] even mildly irritated, so she wouldn’t do something like that for no reason. I’m going to hang up now, and I expect you to leave. I’m going to call the store right now to make sure you’ve done that.” *Click.*