This story reminded me of a story about my dad. A few weeks after my dad was born, my grandma worried that her baby didn’t seem to be looking at her right. So, doing what any worried mother would do in the days before Web MD, she took him to the doctor. The first eye doctor they saw told my grandma that nothing was wrong. She still thought that my dad was looking at her funny, so she took him to another eye doctor. This eye doctor also didn’t find anything, but my grandma was not convinced. She KNEW that something was wrong. 

My grandma was done with these doctors and decided that she would stop just going to random child eye doctors; she would find the best eye doctor in the area. If even the best eye doctor couldn’t find something wrong, maybe my dad was okay and not looking at her funny. After doing some research, she was able to figure out who the best eye doctor in the area was and called to make an appointment. However, the earliest they could see my dad would be in six months. The eye doctor didn’t even normally see infants anyway — only adults. 

My grandma didn’t know what to do. Six months was too long. So, she called her mom and asked for advice.

Grandma’s Mom: “If you are certain that something is wrong with your baby, you go to that doctor’s office and sit in the waiting room and wait there until they see your baby!”

My grandma, even though she didn’t want to be rude, was worried enough to follow this advice. 

The next day, she went into the doctor’s office and explained the situation. They told her the doctor couldn’t see her, so she sat down in the waiting room and waited. Eventually, at the end of the day, the doctor felt sorry for her and decided to at the very least humor her and examine my dad. As it turns out, it was a very good thing he did. My dad had congenital glaucoma, and the doctor realized that he needed to be operated on right away if he was to have any chance of having vision at all. They were able to operate on him in time to save one eye, but he is blind in the other, not that you can tell. If Grandma had waited those six months for the appointment, he would have been fully blind.

Sometimes, mothers do know best.

Related:
An Eye-Catching Lesson

I am starting my shift as a night auditor at my hotel in downtown Chicago. About half an hour into my shift, I get a call from a panicked-sounding woman.

Caller: “Hi! I know this isn’t your usual request, but my son and his friend have finished attending an event downtown, and their ride has let them down last minute! Home is [Town too far away to walk], and I’m not in a position where I can come and get them. They just missed the last train out!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. I think I understand. But please try to talk slower and take a breath so I can follow along.”

Caller: “Yes! Sorry! I’ve checked every hotel website I can think of, but every room is booked due to [Event], even yours!”

Me: “Yes, that is the case, I’m afraid.”

Caller: “Please, please, please, can they sit in your lobby? Just until the first buses run? I can’t stand the thought of them wandering the streets in the dark and cold all night!”

Morally, I can’t let a child be sat outside in the cold in an unfamiliar city; it’s dangerous, and if anything happened, I’d never forgive myself. So, against all of my hotel rules:

Me: “Send them over, ma’am. They’re welcome to sit in the lobby in the warm.”

Caller: “Oh, my God! Thank you! Thank you so much! They’re just around the corner! There are two of them, and his name is [Son]. Thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”

I let the teens sit in the lobby, and they were the nicest and politest guests I had had all day! They even insisted on helping me clean and set up the morning coffee. We had great conversations until 5:00 am when the first buses ran. 

I’m now friends with [Son] on Facebook, and he just started college this year!

When I was fifteen, my first job was at a local fast food chain. The whole place was kind of shady, so I have plenty of stories about crazy people coming in. One of my first unfortunate experiences with customer service was when a lady came by and declared that she was gluten-free and couldn’t have our cones.

Me: “Okay! Would you like a cup, sundae, or blizzard instead?”

Customer: “No, I want a cone.”

I was confused and looked around for any of my coworkers to help. Unfortunately for me, they were busy.

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I want a cone without the cone.”

Me: “So, in a cup?”

Customer: “No.”

She began to get frustrated with me.

Customer: “I want a cone… without the cone. The ice cream.”

Me: “Right. Would you like that in a cup, then?”

Customer: “No, I don’t want a cup! I want a cone!”

I stared back at her blankly. I was being paid generously under minimum wage, and dealing with aggravated adults was not my specialty as a shy teen.

Me: “Do you want me to make you a cone and take the ice cream off with my bare hands and hand it to you, or would you like me to put it in a cup?”

She then began to scream at me, so I simply made her a cup of ice cream for free so she would leave. She threw the cup toward me and stomped away.

Customer: “You’re discriminating against gluten-free people! I will not be coming back!”

Me: “Okay!”

Certainly, an interesting experience. 

Related:
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 12
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 11
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 10
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 9
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 8

One time, I was flying out of Chicago, and at the security point, TSA confiscated my nail clippers. (Yes, clippers, not scissors.)

I got to the other side and into the shops. At the first pharmacist, I was able to replace the nail clippers. Next door? A shop selling products that included their small Swiss Army pocket knives, as the blades were under the 2.36-inch (6 cm) maximum!

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.