Unpacking This Flat-Pack Story Results In Something Beautiful

, , , , , | | Hopeless | June 6, 2019

I took my elementary-aged son and his two hungry friends to a cafeteria within a store for lunch after church, because it’s really affordable and we are not all that comfortable financially.

How awful to load up our trays, get up to the register, and then find out my wallet was missing! Yet the cashier empathized with the situation and helped me think through some ideas for alternate payment.

I stood to the side to download a mobile payment app to my phone and get it set up, but it’s an old phone and there were tech problems. The cashier then offered to pay for the meal and have me reimburse her via a different payment app. So, I stood to the side again to download it, but because of my old phone and spotty data connection, this was taking a very long time.

I came so very close to panicking. Everything was loud, it got so hot in there, I was dizzy… The boys were jumping around and freaking me out, so I sent them on various “errands” to keep them busy. And then I remembered to breathe.

After several minutes of me working the app situation, the cashier called me back over to the register and handed me a receipt, telling me, “Here you go. It’s paid for. It’s on me. Enjoy your meal.” I was stunned by the generosity and sincerely thanked her! Reading the receipt, it looked like she actually paid for the meal personally vs. using a discount code or comping it.

The part of the story the cashier didn’t know is that my son’s two friends come from an insecure food situation at home. I try to invite them over for snacks and meals as often as possible. They hadn’t eaten yet, and this cafeteria meal with us was likely to be their only one today. My gratefulness for this cashier’s generosity went deeper than her simply saving me the embarrassment of a missing wallet. Her kindness ensured these boys had food for the day — literally.

After our meal, I went back to the registers to thank her again and find out if I could reimburse her now, as I’d finally gotten the app working on my phone. But she was gone, and the other workers weren’t sure of her name because she was new. I made sure to write to the company with everything I’ve shared here and tell them how awesome their cashier was to us.

They Don’t Give You A Badge For That

, , , , , | | Right | June 6, 2019

(I am a senior patrol leader in my Boy Scout troop, which basically means that I am responsible for almost everything in the troop. We have been having a standard meeting until I notice a woman with her daughter, around 17 or so, come into our meeting place. I think that they are simply the parents and sibling of one of our members, so I think nothing of it until the meeting closes and everyone packs up to go home.)

Woman: *marches over to me* “I want my daughter to join your Boy Scout troop.”

Me: *flabbergasted* “Wait, what? You–“

Woman: “Exactly what I said. I want my daughter to join your Boy Scout troop.”

Me: “Um, I don’t think that is physically possible unless you know, your child gets, I don’t know, a gender switch?”

Woman: “What?”

Me: “You know, when someone doesn’t want to be a specific gender and they want to change—“

Woman: “I know exactly what a gender switch is, but that was nothing to do with that. I just want my daughter to join your Boy Scout troop.”

Me: *completely done by this point* “Uh, you know what the ‘Boy’ in ‘Boy Scout’ stands for, right?”

Woman: *blank stare*

Me: “Miss, are you—“

Woman: *irate* “This is unacceptable. I demand to see your superior.”

Me: “Uh, sure.”

(I call over my scoutmaster. The woman is absolutely nuts at this point, tearing her own hair and hitting the walls while my scoutmaster tries to calm her down. I start packing up my own things so I can go home.)

Woman: *screaming now* “THIS IS SEXIST. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WON’T LET MY DAUGHTER JOIN YOUR BOY SCOUT PATROL!”

(My scoutmaster is a retired Marine and is very proficient in martial arts.)

Woman: *SWINGS at my Scoutmaster* “LET MY DAUGHTER JOIN! LET MY—“

(My scoutmaster instinctively blocks the attack and, after a quick tussle, ends up on top of her while pinning her arms underneath her, making it impossible for her to move. Everyone is staring at her. One of the parents, who is a cop, walks over.)

Cop Parent: “All right, [Scoutmaster], no need to strain your back. I got it from here.”

Me: *to the 17-year-old girl* “Was she actually serious?”

Girl: “Yeah, she thought I was useless around the house despite being the only one in our family working, so she wanted me to join Boy Scouts. What a f****** moron.”

(Best part? The girl and I realized we went to the same high school and we started hitting it off. The second best part? When the woman showed up to court for attempted assault and disturbance of the peace, her daughter said, in front of her, “Frankly, she was always overzealous about other’s actions, but never considered her own. Personally, I think she deserves it.”)

They’re Being The Bigger Headache

, , , , , | | Right | June 5, 2019

(I’m an apprentice with a construction company. During the final stages of a five-story building being put up, when the scaffolding is coming down — a rather treacherous process, as despite the best efforts of people involved, heavy boards, support framing, and tools WILL be dropped — I’m tasked with keeping onlookers from getting too close to the building site, in addition to my other, more construction-focused duties. Mind you, there are fences, barriers, caution tape, and warning signs ALL OVER THE PLACE in a 50- to 100-foot radius around the building, and somehow people still think it’s okay to just walk right up to the building; we get at LEAST one a day. This couple takes the cake for idiocy, though.)

Couple: *steps over the caution tape and walks up to the south side of the building*

Me: “Hey, folks, you can’t be here. This is an active construction site. I’m going to need you to get over to the other side of the tape there.” *gestures at the caution tape cordoning off the construction site*

Man: “Oh, okay. Sorry.” *they walk off*

(I get back to work, thinking that’s the end of it. Twenty minutes later, I happen to glance up and there’s that same couple on the EAST side of the building.)

Me: “Hey, sorry if I wasn’t clear before, but I really need you to stay behind the tape over there.“ *gestures AGAIN at the caution tape cordoning off the construction site* “You could get hurt.”

Man: “Sorry, sorry.” *they walk off again*

Me: *to myself* “Geez, must be a language barrier or something…”

(I go back to work. Not ten minutes later, I hear one of the guys on the scaffolding removal crew yell out, “HEADACHE!” For those not familiar, that means, “I dropped something heavy; look out below!” I look up to see a scaffolding board crash to earth mere FEET away from THE SAME D*** COUPLE who are BACK ON THE SOUTH SIDE OF THE BUILDING.)

Me: *racing over, now screaming at the top of my lungs* “CLEAR OUT! CLEAR THE F*** OUT! DO YOU HAVE A F****** DEATH WISH?!”

(They both went white as sheets, turned on their heels, and Usain Bolted right the h*** away from the building. It only occurred to me after the adrenaline wore off that I hadn’t bothered to put down my hammer when I was chasing them off, so it very likely looked like I was ready to bash their skulls in with it, especially if there WAS a language barrier. Sorry, random couple, but for the love o’ whoever or whatever you pray to, DON’T CROSS THE D*** CAUTION TAPE!)

Unfiltered Story #153742

, , | | Unfiltered | June 5, 2019

(I work in a big chain grocery store that has the little service areas inside: a pharmacy, meat and seafood, deli, etc… I am a cake decorator and work in the bakery department.)

Customer: *Walks up to the bakery counter, which is also a display full of decorated cakes* Is this the deli that makes sandwiches, or is it over there? *Points towards the meat/seafood department.*

Me: *With a bag of icing and half decorated cake in hand* The deli is that way.

Customer: Okay, thanks. *wanders off in the direction I pointed*

I Learned That In Klass

, , , , | | Right | June 5, 2019

(I work in a casual quick-serve restaurant in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. A customer orders a plain cheese quesadilla, which I proceed to label with a K before handing it off to the cashier.)

Customer: “K for ‘quesadilla’?” *laughs* “No wonder you work in fast food.”

Me: “Actually, it’s K for ‘kids’ meal,’ because it’s cheaper, since your quesadilla was plain. But next time I’ll be sure to write a Q on it so they’ll charge you $8 for two ounces of cheese and a tortilla.”

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