I was around fourteen years old at the time of this story. Our high school arranged a special trip every four years for the band and choir kids (and some parents to chaperone) to go to Florida to perform at Disney World. The performances were just a tiny part of the trip; the rest of the week was basically just one big vacation for all of us. We caravanned in charter buses from Ohio down to Florida with our bandmates and choirmates and got to stay at a nice hotel and do lots of fun Florida activities.

I was always a loner in school. I was the smart, chubby, quiet girl with basically only one friend; my friend was a guy in my instrument section in band, and he was supposed to be my seatmate for the bus ride down. He bailed on me that morning when we all showed up at the school to load up because he had a crush on a pretty blond girl and wanted to sit with her for the bus ride.

I was a little upset, but as luck would have it, while we were waiting to load the buses, I somehow made fast friends with another loner kid who I’d somehow never really talked to before. (I still don’t really remember how that happened, but I’m grateful it did.) We spent the entire trip in each other’s company, palling around off the beaten path.

One day during the trip, it was arranged for us to spend the day at a big beach that was next to a nice hotel. All the students and adults were happily soaking up the sun, sand, and ocean fun while my buddy and I decided to avoid it. Both of us were pale and didn’t do so well in direct heat and sun, and I wasn’t comfortable in a swimsuit, so he and I found the hotel arcade and spent our “beach time” happily playing video games.

I got thirsty at some point and wandered over to the outdoor pool area to the juice bar to get a drink and maybe a snack. The server gal behind the bar was maybe in her early twenties, slim, blond, pretty, tan — all the things that I wasn’t. This was fine, of course… for me, at least.

Me: “Hi. Can I please get a bottle of water?”

Server: *Ignoring my request* “Why aren’t you in a swimsuit?”

I looked down at my dumpy T-shirt and jeans and then back at her. 

Me: “Oh, I’m not swimming today. My friend and I are spending our time in the arcade.”

Server: *Scoffs* “Well, you don’t have to swim to wear a swimsuit, you know.”

Me: *Starting to get uncomfortable* “I know. But I’m fine, thanks. Can I please have a bottle of water?”

Server: “You know, you could at least lay out and tan or something if you don’t want to swim.”

Me: *Feeling more and more insecure by the minute* “I’m just not comfortable with how I look in a swimsuit, I guess.”

She finally handed me my water and looked me up and down.

Server: *In a condescending sing-song voice* “Tan fat is better than white fat!”

I turned red, took my water, and scuttled out of there and back to my friend in the arcade. I told him what happened, and he was pretty upset on my behalf. He reassured me not to listen to people who say things like that.

He and I stayed friends for a long while after that — which was awesome; he was a great friend — and twenty-five years later, I still remember that conversation with that server, verbatim. And though I’ve slimmed down since high school and grown into my looks, I’m still very pale, averse to heat and sun, slightly intimidated by pretty blondes, and not comfortable in a swimsuit.

I am the author of this story, and I still work with the same company. Due to a variety of reasons, I decided I wanted to change the site where I was working. I now work at a timeshare on the beach, which is somehow even less work than the hotel.

The majority of my job now is parking patrol; every hour I check the parking lots for vehicles with parking passes. There are a variety of passes: a colored pass that changes every week, temporary passes for late arrivals, permanent passes for staff/board members, and day passes. Residents must keep their passes on their dashboards or rear-view mirrors.

For people who don’t have a pass, I leave a parking violation notice on their windshield, underneath their wipers to make sure it doesn’t blow away. The notice basically says to just get a pass on their dashboard or don’t park here. I also take a picture of their make, model, and plate for documentation. They get one warning before they are towed, or they’re supposed to be.

Towing is quite a process. I have to document the vehicle parking on the property multiple times, contact the property manager so that she can check it’s not registered, get her to approve a tow, call in the tow company, and hope that they get here on time. As such, it’s quite hard to get a tow off.

I notice a vehicle parked without a pass for the second day in a row. It is around 10:00 pm at this point, and I shoot a text to [Property Manager] with the image. It is not a registered vehicle, and I am authorized to tow it. It will be the last one of the night, as [Property Manager] is going to bed.

The tow truck has arrived, I have signed the paperwork, and the vehicle is strapped on. A man walking by says that it’s his friend’s car and runs to go get him. I motion to the driver to wait, and he nods, both of us bracing ourselves.

The car’s owner reaches us in a couple of minutes and starts demanding that I leave his car alone. As the car is fully loaded, I no longer have possession and direct him to the tow truck driver. He states the drop fee: $125 cash. The driver offers to wait while someone else takes the car’s owner to the nearest ATM if need be, which is more than generous; tow trucks are only required to wait a “reasonable” amount of time (generally five or so minutes), and the nearest gas station with an ATM was ten minutes away

As the man’s buddies start trying to find cash, the man turns to me, and this is the exchange that follows.

Man: “Why are you trying to steal my car?! We’re only visiting our friend!”

Me: “Unfortunately, you do not have a parking pass, and this is the second day you have been here without one. Per property management’s authorization, as it is not a registered vehicle, it was deemed fit to be towed.”

Man: “I wasn’t even here that long yesterday! We’re just visiting our friend! You have to drop my car.”

Me: “The car is in possession of the towing company at this point. I cannot do anything for you. Your friend should know the rules regarding parking and should have provided you with a parking pass.”

At this point, the man’s wife and the man I assume they were visiting join the fray, and there is quite a crowd.

Woman: “But the office is closed so late. How are we supposed to get a pass?!”

Me: “Your friend who is staying here is in charge of providing you a pass to park here.”

Man: “But we’re just staying around the corner! We were only visiting our friend after mass.”

Me: “If you are not staying on property, then whoever is needs to get you a pass. Otherwise, as the notice you received yesterday stated, you will be towed.”

Woman: “This is an illegal tow! Our friend said we could park here!”

Me: “Ma’am, there are signs at the entrance that this is a tow zone. There are signs in the elevator about the parking pass rules and the office hours. In the contract your friend signed, it lays out the rules around parking passes and what happens when these rules are violated. This is a legal tow.”

Woman: *As her husband is paying the tow driver* “Well, this just isn’t right. It’s not fair.”

Me: “Fair or not, this is how the world works.”

Woman: “Don’t you want to make things fair, though? You shouldn’t have that kind of attitude. It’s not legal.”

Me: “As I’ve explained, this is a legal tow.”

Resident: “Well, you know, I work in this industry, too, and this is a bad business practice.”

Me: “You are welcome to speak to property management in the morning and see if they are able to assist you.”

Man: “Yeah, we’ll see. I’ll be getting a lawyer involved for this! This isn’t legal!”

This continued in a circle for quite some time. The lovely couples’ favorite words seemed to be “illegal” and “not fair”. During this, I had to tell someone’s kid that now was not a good time to be filming and laughing; she was filming just the tow truck and the couple while giggling with her friends. I also had to assure a late arrival that I would be there shortly to help him with the lockbox.

As this debate was going nowhere fast, eventually, I told the people that this was not going to help them, and they could speak with property management in the morning. I then left to assist the late arrival and continue my night as the couple left, shooting a text to property management to let her know of the scenario and crapstorm coming her way.

I had the next two days off, and when I came back, I texted property management to see what had happened. The man did indeed go into the office to complain, demanding the money for the drop fee back and threatening a lawyer. Unlike my boss, property management actually has a spine and held firm. The man was told to either pay for a pass or leave the property. The next time I saw his car, he had a day pass. That whole $5 pass would’ve saved him time, money, and embarrassment.

Related:
Pulling From Deep In The Complaint Pool

When I was a teenager, I sometimes drank alcohol, and though it is illegal to give or sell alcohol to teenagers, technically, it is not illegal for teenagers to drink here in Sweden, though many think of it as equivalent.

Two friends and I were having some drinks on a very small pier by a lake one evening. We also brought some food, like sandwiches and fruit; it was like a picnic, with alcohol involved.

The beach was a very small one; however, if you continued along the lake, there was a big beach not far from this one. There were no houses nearby and, as such, the empty beach felt like a very isolated place, so we talked and had a lot of fun.

At one point, one of my friends was peeing up by the woods, and we saw two flashlights approaching the beach. She came running down to us, still putting her skirt in place.

Friend #1: “It’s the police!”

Both my friends started to panic. I told them to calm down, having been taught that the police are just doing their jobs and are not out to get us like some people seem to think.

As the police arrived, I smiled at them. I couldn’t really see their faces seeing as it was dark, and they were behind flashlights, but I could see enough to see that they were in uniforms.

Me: “Good evening.”

Police: “Good evening. We’ve gotten a call about a disturbance. Apparently, a bunch of teenagers are drinking, screaming, and having a big, loud party. Do you know anything about that?”

Me: “No, we are just having a picnic, and it is just the three of us. If there is a party, I hear it is usually over by the big beach.”

Police: “Oh, we see. But you are drinking.”

Me: “Yes, we are.”

My friends were pale; they didn’t say a word.

Police: “Is everyone all right? Does anyone need to go to the hospital?”

Me: “No, I don’t think so.”

I looked at my friends. They still didn’t say anything, but frankly, I didn’t think any one of us was beyond tipsy.

Me: “We’re fine.”

Police: “All right, well, be careful. Here by the water, you can fall in, and if you do, you might not get out; it is cold at this time of night, and your body might go into shock. You are quite far away from the road, so it would take time for help to get here.”

Me: “Yes, thank you. We’ll be careful.”

Police: “All right, well, have a good evening, and don’t hesitate to call if you need any help.”

Me: “Have a good evening!”

Then, they left, and my friends looked at me.

Friend #2: “Wow! You were so calm!”

Me: “Well, there was no reason to worry. Worst case scenario, they would’ve taken our drinks.”

Then, we started wondering what disturbance they had come for. We would’ve noticed a big party, seeing as some people would’ve most likely gone past our beach to get there. Also, we should’ve heard it.

Looking out at the lake, we saw the lights of the houses which were basically on the other side of it. We concluded that someone probably heard the echo of three girls laughing over the water and felt that it disturbed their evening.

I work for a beach patrol in New Jersey. Someone walks up to my guard stand looking a bit nervous.

Beachgoer: *Whispering* “The water has slowly been receding for the past few hours. I think there’s a tsunami about to hit. I’m whispering because I don’t want to scare other people around us, but you have to do something!”

Me: “We’re not at risk of a tsunami; that’s just the tide going out.”

Beachgoer: “What’s a tide?”

Me: “Oh, boy…”

They knew that water receding from a beach could mean a tsunami but they didn’t know what a tide was? I worry about our schools.

When I was a young child, my parents would always be invited to a Fourth Of July party held at a private beach on the bay by a friend of my father’s. The beach did not happen to have a restroom; we had to walk a little ways away to find the porta-potties.

One holiday, I needed to pee, but both my parents were busy talking to other grown-ups. I knew they wouldn’t want me going on my own, but I decided I was big enough to manage the trek, and I figured they wouldn’t even notice I had gone. I found the potties just as I planned, but on my way back, I missed my turn and soon was hopelessly lost.

Eventually, a man came out to find out why I was walking through his yard. I didn’t have shoes since I had been playing in the bay, and the road was hurting my bare feet. I tried to explain where the party was, but my limited explanation wasn’t enough for the man to figure out where to take me, so he instead offered to walk with me for a while until I found my way back.

Once it became clear that I must be walking in the wrong direction, he took me to a neighbor who he hoped could drive me around to look for them. Sadly, both that neighbor’s car and boat were not available at the moment, so I briefly had two escorts walking with me until they could find a third volunteer with a functional car to drive me around to look for the party.

By this point, I’d figured out where I had gone wrong and asked to be taken back to the porta-potties. I’m pretty sure I would have found the turn this time, but I didn’t need to, as the flashing lights of a police car in a nearby lot gave away where the turn was. It seemed my parents had noticed I’d gone missing and the police had been called.

The man dropped me off with my parents and got many thanks in return. I was scared, and exhausted from all the walking and worrying, but I was thankful I’d had numerous volunteers to help me find my way back.

It’s a small thing, but when everyone tries to make it sound like the world is falling apart, I try to remember that there are still decent people who will give up their afternoon to make sure a lost child finds his way home.