Unfiltered Story #163277

, , , | Unfiltered | September 17, 2019

This story is actually about twenty years old, but I still remember it clearly as if it was yesterday.

Our family of six had just finished up a ski vacation when we arrived in bad weather at the old Stapleton Airport. Almost every flight was cancelled due to the snow storms and high winds. We were at the service counter for our airline in a long line. Almost all of the customers were tired and grumpy to say the least.

There was a single elderly customer service agent handling the crushing workload. We noticed that as every customer left the counter, there was a big smile on their faces. We had no idea what they were smiling about.

When it was finally our turn after a two-hour wait, he helped book us on another flight. As he was handing our new tickets to us, he smiled and said “I was able to get you inside seats!” meaning we didn’t have to sit on the wing!

I know it seems kind of silly, but I’ve never forgotten the kindness that this stranger showed everyone in a difficult situation. He made a difference.

Hit Your Ceiling With Bad Neighbors

, , , , , | Friendly | September 13, 2019

I rent the lowest apartment, which is halfway in the ground. It means I spend less on cooling and heating, but everyone else’s actions affect me. Here’s a good example.

One winter, our hallway light went off. We went to change it, but the glass bowl around it was filled with water! We immediately called the emergency maintenance line. Someone came within an hour, looked at our light, and then ran upstairs.

It was three days before we got the full story and our light fixed. The neighbor’s pipes started leaking, but they did nothing. “Just a small leak,” they said to him. But something that is constantly leaking can flood the entire floor. The neighbors had let it go for at least a week. If it weren’t for my report, our ceiling could have caved in! They would have been responsible for thousands of dollars worth of damage and we would have no home. As is, they still spent several hundred fixing the ceiling.

This is why I try not to let anything go, no matter how minor it seems.

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They’re Not The Brightest Spark

, , , , , , | Right | September 6, 2019

(A middle-aged man comes up with a lightweight backpacking stove in a small storage bag.)

Customer: “I need to return this stove. The second time I used it, the igniter didn’t work.”

Me: “Can I take a look at it?”

Customer: *handing me the stove* “I only used it twice. The second day of my trip, it didn’t work, and I had to light it with a lighter.”

(By the time he’s finished, I’ve already fixed the problem.)

Me: “Okay, the good news is the stove itself is absolutely fine. I think the igniter will work now that I’ve tweaked it a little. Let me show you—”

Customer: *irate* “You haven’t fixed it at all! I told you, young lady, the igniter isn’t working!”

Me: “Yes, it wasn’t working before, but it should be now.” *flicks the igniter a couple of times, showing him the spark* “See that spark there—”

Customer: “Of course it’s sparking, girl. But it isn’t lighting!

Me: “No, it wasn’t. I’m trying to show you this metal piece here. It’s a flexible piece, and it was bent up too far, so the spark wasn’t jumping high enough. I’ve just bent it down a bit so the spark can connect. Now the stove can light.”

Customer: “I could have done that! I read the d*** instructions; it was horizontal like it was supposed to be!”

Me: “It was actually a little too far up—”

Customer: *condescendingly* “Young lady. I’m not just going to take your word that you’ve magically fixed my defective stove by bending just one little piece of metal into place.”

Me: *calmly* “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to, sir.”

(I grab one of our tester fuel cans, screw the stove in place, and run the fuel. The whole time, the customer huffs at me.)

Customer: “It’s still not going to—”

(I flick the igniter. The stove goes up like a Roman candle. I look him dead in the face through the six-inch-high blue flames, slowly winding down the fuel.)

Customer: *huffily* “All right, I’ll buy that, I guess.”

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Common Sense Has Checked Out Early

, , , , , | Right | August 29, 2019

(I am working the night shift. The phone rings, marked as an internal call.)

Me: “Good evening. Guest services, this is [My Name]; how may I help you?”

Guest: “Can I get a late checkout?”

Me: “Certainly, Mr. [Guest], regular checkout is at eleven, but we can extend that to noon.”

Guest: “Can you do any later than that? Like two?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but unfortunately, I cannot. My housekeeping department leaves for the day before that on a weekend.”

Guest: “We’re just going to be out running errands all day…”

Me: “If you would like, we can hold your belongings behind the front desk until it’s convenient for you to pick them up around two?”

Guest: “Actually, I want my checkout at three.”

Me: “Sir, unfortunately, I cannot do a three-pm checkout. If I let you stay past noon…” *at this point I hesitate, looking at his account; he’s a high-profile member* “The very, very latest I can offer is twelve-thirty, and I’m really not supposed to do that.”

Guest’s Wife: *in background* “We need a three-pm checkout!”

Guest: “Three pm.”

Me: “If we let you stay until three, we have to charge you for a half-day’s stay. I’m sorry.”

Guest’s Wife: “What? No way! Why?”

Me: “Because housekeeping won’t be here to clean the room, so we won’t be able to sell it for tomorrow night.”

Guest’s Wife: *still in the background* “I want to speak to your supervisor!”

(It is about 12:30 am.)

Me: “I am the supervisor, ma’am.”

Guest’s Wife: *still yelling from background* “THEN I WANT TO TALK TO YOUR MANAGER!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am the manager on duty. I am also the only employee here at the moment. Would you like me to mark you down for a noon checkout, or charge you for the half-day so you can check out at three?”

Guest’s Wife: *still in background* “TRANSFER ME TO YOUR MANAGER!”

Me: “I am the manager. I can send you to my general manager’s voicemail box, but she won’t be in until Tuesday morning, as this is Friday night and a holiday weekend.”

Guest: “Please, just transfer…”

(I transferred her to the voicemail, shaking with silent fury. A few hours later, the guy came down and asked for Bengay — of all things — and to apologize for his wife. He asked for the 12:30 checkout and thanked me, apologized again, and left.)

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How Do You Like Them Applesauce?

, , , , , , | Related | August 23, 2019

(My husband and I have recently had our first child and I have been struggling with postpartum depression. My mom has made some unwanted remarks towards me as a mother. This happens when I’m dropping my daughter off with my mom so my husband and I can go on a date. My daughter is about eight months old and I’m going over stuff with my mom. I’ve already had a rough day and am kind of out of it so I didn’t pack everything I needed for her.)

Me: “She can have whatever you guys have for dinner; just cut it into pieces she can handle.”

Mom: “Did you pack her any snacks?”

Me: “No, I forgot. But she’ll eat cheese or crackers or any fruit that you have.”

Mom: “Well, good moms bring snacks for their children when they go to their grandparents.”

(This is the last straw for me because my family has already made me feel like a bad mom in the past and I haven’t said anything until this point.)

Me: “Well, good grandmas have snacks for their grandchildren when they come over.” 

(My mom stopped after that, and the next time we came over, she was stocked up on applesauce and crackers. Thankfully, she hasn’t made any hurtful comments anymore, either.)

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