“I Don’t Work Here,” Wholesome Edition!

, , , , , | Friendly | CREDIT: Mel9879875 | November 25, 2020

I am at a popular retail chain looking for a window air-conditioner for my small apartment. I have never bought one before, and I don’t have any idea of how many square feet my apartment is or how big an AC I will need.

This older gentleman is in the same aisle, wearing khakis and a blue shirt.

Me: “Excuse me, sir. Can you help me?”

Gentleman: “I don’t work here. But I can try!”

His wife then walked up next to him, and they spent a good ten minutes helping me figure out what would work the best for me. They were super nice and said they had a daughter around my age and would appreciate someone helping her if she was in a similar situation. I bought the AC they recommended, and it worked great for years. Not all “I don’t work here” stories are bad!


This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for November 2020!

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Read the Feel Good roundup for November 2020!

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Sometimes, You Just Have To Suck It Up And “Work There”

, , , , , | Friendly | CREDIT: alxwak | November 24, 2020

Since becoming an adult, I get almost one “I Don’t Work Here” incident a month. This is my second ever incident and one of my most cherished memories.

This happens in the early 2000s. I’m a third-year nurse student in the capital. I’m sharing my apartment with a good friend and he is sharing his car. The car is of a brand cherished by taxi drivers and it’s yellow, the color of taxis in the capital. The major differences from a taxi are that it lacks the “TAXI” sign and that it is a hatchback; taxis are sedans. It is common for someone to flag us down, thinking we’re in a taxi until we came closer.

It is summer and my friend is island-hopping with his fiancé and they have left the car behind. I wake up to an almost empty fridge, and since I was paid yesterday, I decide to forgo the small convenience store in my neighborhood and drive to the big supermarket. I jump in the car and take a major road artery to the store.

I’m stopped in front of a bus stop, waiting for the light to turn green, when the back door opens and closes and I hear a woman’s voice.

Woman: “[Hospital], please!”

I turn around to say it’s not a taxi, but I stop in my tracks. A sweet old lady has entered the car. She is around sixty-five or seventy. She is clutching her purse so hard, her knuckles are turning white. She is clearly panicked. She keeps mumbling.

Woman: “Please hurry! She went into labor! Please hurry!”

I put the car into gear and starts driving towards the hospital. Nurse training kicks in and I start to talk to her to calm her down. She starts to calm down and I get the whole story. Her granddaughter, who’s nineteen, is pregnant and has had a rough pregnancy. An hour ago, she went into premature labor and the grandma is panicking.

We reach the hospital twenty minutes later. The guard at the entrance knows me, because of my hospital rotation. I drive up to the entrance and drop her. As she is trying to pay me, I tell her it’s on the house. At that point, she realizes this isn’t a taxi and gets a bit embarrassed. She tries to give me money again. I advise that if everything goes well, we should send me a cake. Little did I know…

Two weeks later, my roommate is back and receives a call from the police. They want to find out if he is the owner of the car and if he could go to the station.

Roommate: “Um… did anything happen with the car while I was gone?”

I say no, having almost forgotten the incident. I decide to tag along to the station. We are met by an officer who guides us to an office. Inside is the sweet old lady with a box. She jumps up.

Woman: “That’s him!”

And she hugs me. The officer is smiling. He is the father of the granddaughter, and now he’s a proud grandfather. Apparently, the lady told him about the incident and how helpful I was. He used his status as a police officer to get the plate from the CCTV and find the owner and thank me. The baby girl would have to spend some time in the hospital, due to being almost two months early, but otherwise, she was all right. So, I got the cake.

I actually met the girl by coincidence a couple of years ago. She has turned out fine and is studying to be a nurse.


This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for November 2020!

Read the next Feel Good roundup story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for November 2020!

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I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 36

, , , , | Right | October 27, 2020

I’m a customer carrying a pile of unicorn-related items, including a hat and gumboots, through a clothing and homewares store. I’m wearing a black business shirt, black jeans, and sneakers. The staff at the store wear blue polo shirts, black business pants, and black shoes.

Customer: “Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!”

I stop to look at a rack of unicorn T-shirts for my niece.

Customer: *Stops next to me* “EXCUUUUUUUSE ME!”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “Where do you keep your underwear?”

Me: “In a drawer in my bedroom.”

Customer: *Realising* “You don’t work here.”

Me: “No, I don’t, but that lady over there in the blue shirt can help you.”

I’m still not sure why this keeps happening to me, or how she walked past two employees to chase me down without noticing them. I did eventually find my niece the perfect unicorn outfit for her birthday!

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 35
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 34
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 33
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 32
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 31

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Best To Just Soldier On

, , , , , | Right | September 23, 2020

I’m in the Canadian military, and I’m doing some grocery shopping after the workday at a local grocery store. A customer approaches me with their grocery list in hand.

Customer: “Excuse me. Could you help me find a few things?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t really help you. I’m not sure where most of the stuff in here is; I just go up and down each aisle until I find what I’m looking for.”

Customer: “Oh, but aren’t soldiers supposed to help anyone in need?”

Me: *Laughing* “I guess you’re right. All right, let me see your list.”

We ended up shopping together for the remainder of our time in the store and are now pretty good friends.

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I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 35

, , , , , | Right | August 17, 2020

I’ve recently returned home from Spain after studying abroad for a year. It’s a couple of days after getting home, and I’m out shopping for my parents since I’m staying with them until I can get an apartment. I’m browsing the bread, deciding between brands and types. I hear a woman talking, but I assume she’s talking on the phone, so I’m not paying much attention. Suddenly, she’s at my ear.

Customer: “I SAID, DO YOU KNOW IF THEY HAVE HONEY-WHEAT BREAD?!”

I jump, then automatically go to Spanish, as it has been my life for the past year.

Me: “¿Perdón? No trabajo aquí.” *Sorry? I don’t work here.*

Customer: “UGH! Typical! D***ed immigrants not learning English before coming here!”

I catch myself and remember to go back to English.

Me: “Lady, I was born five miles away and except for the past year, I’ve lived in this city my entire life. And during that year, I’ve been studying abroad. If you have an inventory question, I suggest you ask an employee!”

I grabbed my bread and turned my back on her, walking away.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 34
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 33
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 32
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 31
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 30

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