The Flight And Mom Are Both Grounded

, , , , | Right | February 23, 2021

The flight I am on is delayed due to a hydraulic system failure and we are asked to deplane. Being at the front of the plane and on a tight schedule for my connecting flight, I head right for the podium to get an alternate flight.

The customer rep is in the middle of reviewing possible flight options for me when a flight attendant emerges from the plane guiding a young boy. It turns out he’s an unaccompanied minor. Part of the contract his mom had signed to let him fly was agreeing to stay in the airport until the plane took off… in case of something like a hydraulic system failure grounding the plane.

She had not. I got a front-row seat to watch as the crew took care of the boy, who was very well-behaved, waited quietly, and played his Switch — and tried to get his mom back.

This was a significant undertaking. The rep had to call multiple people and tell them that the mom needed to come back, that not being here was a violation of the contract, and that no, they couldn’t just put the boy on another plane without parental supervision. And each person needed to be told each of these things repeatedly.

Kudos to the airline for their handling of the situation, but what the heck was the mom doing in the late afternoon that it required this much convincing to come back for her son?

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Please Don’t Shoot Your Shot

, , , | Working | February 22, 2021

I have worked in an Indiana college town in a 147-room hotel for about six months. Most of the time things go swimmingly, but the last couple of nights have been doozies thanks to our boilers going AWOL, leaving the hotel without hot water. This left two wedding suites unable to shower comfortably. But that wasn’t the most interesting thing to happen this week. No, that would be tonight.

Around 9:15, someone walks into the hotel and asks for public restrooms. I eye the person, whose appearance and demeanor fit that of the local drug addict population.

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t have public restrooms.”

Guy: *Barely above a whisper* “I’ll take a room, then.”

This is red flag number one. Normally, people just grumble and walk out. They don’t suddenly switch to wanting to pay $150 for a room. But I click a few buttons on my system and fake looking for rooms.

Me: “I’ll need a credit card and a photo ID.”

The guy pulls out a green BMV-issued ID card — not a license, just an ID card — and a debit card. While we can take debit cards, I’m still suspicious. It is at this point that I notice that the guy’s left hand is covered in fresh blood.

Guy: “I’ll pay for anything, even a suite.”

This is red flag number two. To go from wanting bathrooms to wanting to pay for anything we had just screams, “I’m a junkie and I’m looking for a place to shoot up.” I decide to refuse service for a few reasons: one, there’s no sense in risking him overdosing on whatever his poison of choice is and having a dead-in-room situation; two, there are two weddings in house tonight; and three, there are a lot of kids in house.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re completely sold out.”

This was a blatant lie; we were only at 54% for the night, but I was certain he was looking for a place to shoot up and was going to do whatever it took to do so.

The guy turned around and walked out. My manager, after hearing this, told me I’d done a good job and the night went on as usual. This was a first for me. Feels like I got through a rite of passage for hospitality or something.

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In Line For Satisfaction

, , , , | Right | February 4, 2021

I’m browsing at a local chain used bookstore. I like to come in every month or so to see what is new. The staff are very friendly, but this interaction shows how they can be no-nonsense, as well.

While I am looking through their music section, I hear someone shouting by the registers.

Customer: “No! I was here first! I get helped first!”

I look up to see two ladies standing side by side at the register counter. One of them, who was the one shouting, is an older woman in her late sixties or so. The other is a much younger woman, maybe mid-twenties, and she seems pretty uncomfortable. The lady behind the register is in her mid-fifties.

Cashier: “I’m sorry, but this woman was actually here first. You have to wait your turn in line.”

Customer: “No! She walked in after me. I was here first; I deserve to be served first!”

The cashier just shakes her head and then waves the other woman to hand over her books. The shouting lady stands there, obviously upset at being ignored, but rather than slinking to the back of the line, she just keeps standing there. Finally, the other woman finishes paying and leaves, and the first woman shoves her basket of books forward onto the counter.

Customer: “Now, will you do your job?”

Cashier: “Yes.”

The cashier pushes the basket aside and leans over to look at the man at the front of the line.

Cashier: “Sir, I believe you are next.”

I am grinning at that point, watching as she works her way through the line, while the first lady just keeps standing there, simmering. She goes through the two people who were in line when the drama first started and another guy who joined afterward. Finally, when there’s no line anymore, she turns back to the first woman.

Cashier: “All right. Will these be all for you today?”

The old biddy doesn’t respond; she just stands there glowering as the cashier rings up her books.

Cashier: “Your total is [total].”

At this, the woman actually stuck her nose up in the air and pivoted on her heel before walking out of the store without her books. I heard a couple of other people laugh at the ridiculously cliché act. The cashier just shook her head, pressed a few buttons on the register, and dumped the stack of books into one of the baskets behind the counter.

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All Of The Meats, None Of The Class

, , , , , | Right | February 1, 2021

A large black man stumbles in, clearly under the influence, and goes straight to the counter where I am.

Customer: “I want a footlong on white bread with everything on it.”

Me: “Uh… like all veggies?”

Customer: “Yes, that, too! Now gimme all the meat and all the cheese!”

Me: “Is this a joke? Y’know it would be very expensive to order every meat and cheese, right?”

The man then slams his fist on the counter, making me jump along with the other customers behind him.

Customer: “I know very well what I want! You calling me stupid?! You racist whore!”

Me: “Sir, calm down. I never said I wouldn’t serve you because of your skin, nor was I rude. I’m just surprised; that’s all.”

I make this man his very large sandwich. It takes a long time to make because I have to cook all the meat and try to make it look as nice as possible. The man is cussing and complaining at me the whole time and whining about his wait.

Me: “All right, sir, this sandwich is extremely messy because I couldn’t close the bun due to how many items are on it.”

I ring him up and his total is over a hundred dollars.

Customer: “Are you kidding me?! I am not paying that much for one sandwich! I got this sandwich before and it was never that much! You racist a**hole!”

He stormed out of the store, screaming and cussing.

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Hard Of Understanding

, , , , , | Right | January 26, 2021

I’m out shopping with my parents. I’m an adult and plan on buying my few items myself, while my parents have maybe thirty or so items in their cart. All of the registers have lines except for one. I follow them up to the twenty-items-or-less aisle, where a woman who’s hard of hearing is working.

My parents walk up and my mom starts to put about half of the items on the belt.

The woman, unable to properly speak to her, tries to sign to her that she can’t do that; she has to go to a different register.

My mom is somehow unable to understand this woman is hard of hearing.

Mom: “We’re paying separately; we’re just sharing a cart. I’m buying first.”

The woman continues to tell her the best that she can that she needs to find a different register. She won’t check her out.

Mom: “I have less than twenty items! We’re paying separately!”

My mom puts the divider up and then continues to put everything else on. The woman doesn’t scan her items.

Mom: “Fine! Whatever! I guess you’re too stupid to understand me.”

She grabbed her items and left. I slowly walked up to the woman’s register, put my few items down, and pulled out my card. I mouthed, “Sorry,” to her, but she didn’t see as she had her head down, solely focusing on scanning my items. 

After I paid, I signed, “Thank you,” to her, as it’s the only ASL I know, but the woman had already started helping the next customer. 

I went off on my mom later and told her that the woman was only doing her job. My mom tried to say that no one who’s hard of hearing should work on a register, but I shut her down quickly. Everyone deserves to work. The woman was able to do her job just as well as anyone.

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