Due to scheduling conflicts, one of my coworkers can’t make an “event”, so she asks another coworker if she can. This second coworker (we’ll call her Jane) asks me to go to this “event” with her. Because it’s during work hours (and I don’t have too much to do), and we get paid, I accept. 

It turns out that this “event” is decorating a house for a charity our company works with every year. It’s not too far from the office, we get coffee on the way, and what could be better than taking some (paid) time off to take some photos and be nice and helpful? 

This house has bins and bins full of ornaments, and we decide we’re going to help decorate the tree. One of the people living there helps us, and it’s incredibly fun. 

When we start deciding where to put the ornaments, I notice that the tree is listing a little to the side. Not to worry! I get Jane to hold it straight before wiggling my way underneath it to tighten the screws. Luckily, it’s a fake tree. One of the workers tells us that the base isn’t the right one; after all the years they’ve spent in that house, they’ve got kind of a franken-tree. This happens a couple of times, in fact: Jane holds the tree up, and I screw it back in. 

When the tree and its room are finally done (and absolutely beautiful, in our opinion), we decorate outside with garland and wreaths and take so many photos. 

We’re only there for a few hours, and our supervisor wants us back by early afternoon, so about ten minutes before we have to leave, Jane asks if there’s anything else we can do. We feel we haven’t done much, but they thank us profusely and tell us there are several options for corporate outings if we so desire. 

And then… we hear a crash from the other room. You’d better believe it: the tree has fallen over. 

Tree: on the floor. Ornaments: broken. Glass: everywhere. The fairly large angel that I placed on top has been thrown into another room, and one of her arms is misshapen. 

We grimly decide that this is what we’re gonna do for the next ten minutes: fix the tree. 

All six of us (Jane and me included) take charge. We grab brooms and dustpans for the floor, two of us work on getting the tree at least upright, with me on the bottom to move the base, and Jane carefully picks up the bigger bits of ornaments the tree covered.

We decide that because the tree was originally in the center of an alcove, let’s just… shove it into the corner so it can lean. We’ll put other stuff in the other corner. It’s fine. At least we got photos from BEFORE the tree fell over? 

We take a selfie outside, and Jane and I head back to the office, job somewhat well done? 

The house we went to was a halfway house for homeless women, one of two in the area. Jane and I actually had a fantastic time; we had great chats with the people living and working there, and I got to geek out with one of them over Pokémon! What could be better? 

It reminded us not to take anything for granted this holiday season, regardless of where we are.

I work in a second-hand store where we set our own prices based on what we think the item is worth, which of course leads to customers trying to negotiate a lower price on some stuff. Sometimes they have a point, and sometimes they’re just stupid, like in this case.

Customer: “Hey, you’ve got $20 on that violin there, but you’re missing the bow. Can you do it a bit better?”

Me: “First of all, if we have a violin missing the bow, that’s considered when we decide the price. Second of all, that’s a ukulele.” 

Customer: “…will you do the violin for $15?”

I work as an audio engineer, and I freelance in my spare time. I don’t charge much for my work (if anything), since I enjoy it. I did a show for a small charity function that asked me to set up and bring gear. I did ask them to pay for the gear since their show was bigger than what I had the readily available equipment for. However, when it came to budgeting, the conversation went like this.

Me: “So, how big of a show is this?”

Client: “About 700 people.”

Me: “Okay. With the equipment we’ll need, as well as the fuel to have me haul it all here in my truck, you’ll be looking at about $5,000.”

Client: “That’s too much.”

Me: “Yes, well, you are looking to fill a sizeable room, and with the lights that you’ve asked for, it won’t be cheap.”

Client: “Well, I know a guy who has some speakers who can do it for $500.”

Me: “I understand it may seem like a lot, but you have to understand that there is no way I can get the equipment you’ve requested for less. If I reduce the size of the rig, I can maybe get it as low as $2,000, but you’re taking a hit to the quality of the show…”

Client: “Fine, we’ll pay your stupid fees.”

The day of the show rolled around, I did set up and sound check, and the band was all ready to go. About twenty minutes before the show, the head coordinator showed up with my receipts in her hand and screamed at me.

Client: “This is ridiculous! And what is this $150 for fuel?”

Me: “As I said, I needed to haul a lot of equipment a fair distance, and to multiple stops, plus taking it all back tomorrow…”

Client: “We’re not paying this.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way. If that’s the case, I will pack up and leave.”

Client: “What? You can’t leave! We have everyone here! We’ve paid the bands, and they’re all set up!”

Me: “Then please write the check and let me do my job.”

Client: “Fine! But I will make sure every single person here knows how much of a cheapskate you are! I will ruin your career! You’ll never work here again!”

She stormed off and tried to pretend like any hiccup was my fault. The show went great, and the band even thanked me.

This charity is now being investigated for failing to declare expenses as she tore up their copies of the receipts and threw them out. I’ve done two gigs for the bands that played since.

I am doing a charity gig producing caricatures. A lady walks up, looks at my art, mumbles something, and then asks me:

Lady: “Do you do private commissions?”

Me: “Yes, I do.” 

Lady: “What do you need?”

Me: “All I need is a photo and some information about the person you want to be caricatured.”

Lady: “I have a photo of my husband in the car. I can go and get it if you like.”

Me: “That would be great.”

She heads off, and twenty minutes later, she comes back with a photo.

The photo is of a large lake with a tiny boat in the middle. And I mean tiny; you can barely make it out. After a while, I say:

Me: “So, where is your husband?”

Lady: “He’s in the boat.”

I look again. And there, measuring approximately 2.5 pixels in width and 3.7 in height, is — I presume — her husband. Fishing.

Me: “I think I’m going to need a slightly clearer photo.”

She takes it back and looks at it.

Lady: “Actually, you’ll probably want one of him facing you, too. He’s got his back to you in this one.”

I nodded slowly and she walked off.

An older man and a teenager are at my checkout. One of the items they’re purchasing is a slab cake from our bakery with “Happy 16th Birthday!” written on it.

Me: “Happy birthday to whoever is turning sixteen!”

Teenager: “Oh, I am actually.”

Customer: “My nephew, turning sixteen! Can you believe it?! I told him I’d give him twenty dollars for every A he got at the end of the year, and he got nothing but A’s! Can you believe it?!”

Me: “That’s amazing, congratulations!”

Customer: “Yeah, he’s a hard worker.”

The uncle then spots a homeless man sitting outside the store — his usual spot. The uncle turns to his nephew.

Customer: “Work hard and get a good job, or you’ll end up a useless bum like him. F****** drain on society, I swear.”

I actually physically stop scanning items for a second, since the change of the uncle’s tone is so jarring. The nephew notices this, too, but doesn’t say anything straight away.

I ring up the total and tell them.

Nephew: “When I’ve been here before, I’ve been asked if I’d like to round up the purchase to give to a charity.”

Me: “That’s right! If you’d like to do that, you could donate thirty-one cents to one of the charities that our store supports.”

Nephew: “Do any of them support homeless people?”

Me: “We actually do!”

Nephew: “I’d like to donate to that one, please.”

The uncle scoffs but doesn’t protest.

Customer: “I see what you’re doing, [Nephew]. Whatever, fine, it’s just thirty-one cents.”

Nephew: “I’d like to donate all of this, too, please.”

The teenager produces a pile of cash from his pocket. It’s easily over a hundred dollars.

Customer: “What?! No! That’s your birthday money! That’s for you!”

Nephew: “And this is what I’m doing with it.”

Customer: “I forbid it! I told you that money was for you to invest!”

Nephew: “And I am. I’m investing in the people that society has forgotten. You wouldn’t take back the money that I earned fair and square now, would you, Uncle?”

The customer glares at his nephew and then at me, as if I could do anything about it, and then he just kinda gives up.

Customer: “Fine. Waste your money. You’ll never get another cent from me!”

The uncle storms off, and the nephew actually donates all the money!

Nephew: “Honestly, if he hadn’t won $100,000 in the lottery a couple of years ago, he’d be homeless, too. I’ll consider this his hypocrite tax.”

The next generation will be all right… 

Related:
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 13
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 12
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 11
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 10
Homeless Is Where The Heart Is, Part 9