Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 11

, , , , | | Hopeless | May 23, 2019

I have a friend over for an all-night movie and game night. Late into our evening, after midnight, we both decide that we are hungry, so we drive to one of the few 24-hour shops in our area to get some soda and snacks even though the store is some distance away, in a seedier part of town.

At this time, it is late summer/early autumn, so the nights can get pretty chilly. On the way back to my apartment, we stop behind a car at a stop sign. The car is sitting there for some time until the doors open and four young people, most likely teenagers, pile out and head for the side of the street, where a man, presumably homeless, is sleeping on a bench.

My friend and I expect the worst, afraid that they are going to harass him. Instead, we watch as these teenagers lay a blanket over the sleeping man and gently lift his head to tuck a pillow, or perhaps another bundled blanket, under his head. They also leave what looks to be either another blanket or a jacket next to him.

The teenagers then climb back into the car and drive away. It was truly touching to see these young people going out of their way to help someone who was down on his luck, and it restored my faith in humanity.

Related:
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 10
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 9
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 8

Their Racism Is In Pole(ish) Position

, , , , , | | Friendly | May 20, 2019

I have an Eastern European first name, for no other reason than that my parents liked the sound of it.

I’m working for a temp agency and I get a call to come down to the centre for a day-long job out in the surrounding countryside. A couple of other temps have volunteered their cars to take the rest of us out to where we meet the client and follow him out to the field we were working in. We do the work, get paid for a full eight hours after working for six, and everyone piles back into the cars and goes home happy.

On the way back, the driver catches my eye in the rearview mirror and tells me that she wasn’t initially sure about having me in her car. When I ask her why not, she replies that when she saw my name on the list she thought I was Polish and that, “you wouldn’t talk to any of us.” All I could think of to say was that I had been born in [Midlands Town] and had lived in England all my life.

It made me so angry, partly because this was the first time someone had discriminated against me in a direct way, although by mistake, partly because I find any kind of racism or discrimination baffling — I’ve realised that it isn’t so much that I love everyone equally but that I’m indifferent to everyone equally — and partly because by admitting to it she seemed to expect that I would agree with her sentiments or find her expressing them like that to be acceptable.

I kind of wish I’d made a fuss but we were still several miles out with no other way for me to get back, and I didn’t fancy getting kicked out of the car for having a go at someone I wasn’t likely to ever see again.

It’s Still In The Car Somewhere… Breeding

, , , , | | Romantic | May 18, 2019

My fiancé and I are traveling across the country. It is nighttime and I am driving down the interstate. My fiancé is dozing in the passenger seat and I have my arm outstretched with my hand on his knee and the air blowing directly on me. I have fairly long hair and it tends to get everywhere.

I began feeling a tickling sensation along my arm and figured it was a hair, so I pulled my hand back and tried to pull the hair away so it wasn’t bothering me. This happened a few more times before I managed to find the culprit: a daddy long legs spider. I screamed, threw the spider — at my poor fiancé — and jerked the wheel a bit. He, in turn, got angry with me until I started asking him to make sure the spider was dead, and he told me it was and that it had ended up in the backseat. We continued on our trip and had a great time together.

However, a few weeks later I asked him about it again and he told me that he had no clue where the spider had gone and he had just wanted me to not kill us due to freaking out over a spider. It still makes me shudder more than six months later.

Crossover Is The Biggest City In The Marvel Universe

, , , , , | | Related | May 17, 2019

We were traveling to a casino in Mississippi, driving down the infamous Highway 59. It has many places where you must cross the actual interstate. These are called crossovers and each has a sign indicating, “CROSSOVER.”

My parents were from Wisconsin and had no such thing in their state. After about an hour of driving, my mother piped up and commented that Crossover must be a big town, as she had been seeing signs for some time. After a very incredulous look from me, we had a good laugh about it.

You Die A Hero, Or Work Retail Long Enough To Become The Villain

, , , , | | Right | May 17, 2019

(My mother is the bad customer in this story. We have left our car at a hotel near the airport when we go on vacation. When we come back, one of the tires is flat. We know that a nearby superstore has a tire service and we want [Roadside Assistance Service] to tow us there before it closes. Normally, they give an estimate of forty-five minutes to get to us, but this time it is an hour and a half, which won’t give us enough time to get there before closing. My mom is told that since we aren’t in an emergency situation, they can’t get to us faster.)

Mom: “This is an emergency situation. We just came back from vacation and need to get home.”

(That doesn’t do anything, but we manage to take the flat tire in a friend’s car to the store and have it fixed. As my dad is putting the tire back on, my mom calls [Roadside Assistance Service] back. This is her side of the conversation. Her tone of voice is very harsh through the call.)

Mom: “I want to speak to a supervisor. Transfer me to a supervisor right now.”

(A pause…)

Mom: “I am very disappointed with this service. I have had it for many years, and you couldn’t get to me in less than an hour? I want to cancel my service and get my money back, and I want to lodge a complaint against whoever I talked to earlier. I’m sure that’s on my file. I’m done with your company.”

(Pause…)

Mom: “Fine, yeah, whatever.” *hangs up, and then, in a cheerier voice* “Guess we still have [Roadside Assistance Service]. The guy said that I couldn’t cancel since it’s billed yearly and we paid last month.” *laughing a bit* “And I wasn’t really that upset, anyway.”

(I could only stare in shock about how poorly she acted if she wasn’t upset. This is a woman who used to work phones and complained about people like herself!)

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