My winter boots just gave up on me in the middle of winter, so uncool of them. Seeing as I was heading into the city with a friend of mine to meet up with another friend, the friend and I headed into a shoe store on the way.

I have really large and wide feet for a lady, a size 42-43 to be precise, and not many stores have that for a lady’s option. We enter a store, and I spot some really pretty boots that I want to try.

Me: “Hi, excuse me, do you have this in a 42?”

Sales Lady: “We have it in a 41.”

Me: “Oh no, thank you, that won’t fit, and—”

Sales Lady: “It will fit you. Sit down.”

Me: “Okay?”

I have Autism, so I’m not really a confrontational person or do well in social settings, so I sit down on a bench and take off my shoe.

Sales Lady: *Shoving the shoe on my foot.* “Here, put this on. See, it fits perfectly!”

It doesn’t. The whole shoe feels cramped, and I can barely move my toes.

Me: “The shoe actually feels small.”

Sales Lady: “Where does it feel small?!

Me: “The whole shoe?”

Sales Lady: “Where!?”

Me: “Uh, the toes?”

She then proceeds to place her thumb down hard on the edge of the shoe to measure, which, with the shoe being tight, I could feel.

Sales Lady: “Nope, it feels fine. It’s perfect for you!”

Me: “Uh, no, thank you.”

As I bend to take off the shoe, I give a small, exasperated sigh, justifiable, I may say.

Sales Lady: “You shouldn’t roll your eyes at me, you know!”

I quickly put my shoe back on, grab my friend, and practically run out of the store.

It’s a shame, the store had pretty shoes, but that lady didn’t have a pretty attitude.

I lived in a small-ish town as a kid where it was perfectly safe for a third-grader to walk around alone, but I looked extremely young for my age so was often stopped by older women. One day, I was walking back from my friend’s house when a random woman stopped me.

Woman: “Are you alone?”

Me: “Yes.”

Woman: “Do you know your way home?”

Me: “Yes.”

Woman: “Are your parents nearby?”

Me: “No.”

Woman: “Well, they should be. Tell them they need to pluck your unibrow.”

I’m working in a kibbutz. I’m assigned to package supplies with some older Jewish men. We soon come up with an assembly line that makes the job go quickly.

Old Man #1: “Henry Ford would be proud of us.”

Old Man #2: “No, he wouldn’t.”

I worked in retail for five years in a neighborhood of filthy rich people who thought the world was their oyster. Every few months, we had a coupon sale in the store for a coffee brand that is very popular here. I drink it every morning. The coupon made it substantially cheaper than what it would cost without it. And naturally, people flocked to the store and bought it every day the sale was going on.

There was one woman who would come to the store and shamelessly present me with three coupons for three containers of coffee. We only allowed one use of the coupon per customer.

She was so determined. We would tell her no every time. So, she would take just one and then come back in the afternoon after a shift change to buy the rest.

It’s like she needed it.

I remember how we used to joke about how it was so embarrassing for her to do it. What was so special about that coffee that she bought so much of it?

We never knew, and at some point, she stopped coming at all.

Now, after working for eight years in the high-tech industry and writing code for a living, I’m sad to say I have become just like her. When there’s a sale on that specific coffee brand, I purchase multiple of them. The difference is that I mobilize other people to buy it for me: my mom and a friend from work.

Working in retail was the best thing I did in my life to understand how to talk to people. Thank you again for all you do for us, retail workers!

I work as a service engineer for laser cutting machines. (I previously submitted this story.) We got a call from one of our clients who owned a very old machine, saying that one of the hydraulic motors of the machine had stopped working and they needed our help.

When I arrived, I learned that the full story was that the motor started leaking, and the team operating the machine tried disassembling it to find the cause, couldn’t, and then reassembled it incorrectly. It took me a while to figure out how to assemble it correctly (as no schematics were available for years) and to find the leaking gasket that needed replacement. This gasket was something they could manufacture and install on their own once they got a sheet of the proper rubber — which they didn’t have at that moment so it could not be done on the spot — since it didn’t actually require the full disassembly they unsuccessfully tried earlier.

I then went to the production manager to inform him of my findings. As I was on my way out of his office, I overheard him calling the manufacturing team about an incoming work order for the laser cutter. I turned back in.

Me: “I’m sorry, but are you planning to continue using the machine before that gasket is replaced?”

Manager: “Of course.”

Me: “You can’t.”

Manager: “What?! Why?! I thought you said you repaired the motor, other than the leak!”

Me: “I did, but it’s still leaking. You can’t work like that.”

Manager: “What do you mean? We worked with that leak for weeks before we tried to sort it out, just topping off the hydraulic fluid once in a while! And nothing happened; as you can see, the motor runs fine!”

Me: “You… worked like that for weeks?”

Manager: “Sure. Without issue.”

Me: “Without issue with the motor maybe, but have you noticed the puddle underneath the machine?”

Manager: “So what? The guys just mop it up now and then. It’s not like it could damage anything.”

Me: “The machine cuts by means of a laser beam that heats metal enough to vaporize it, with white-hot metal droplets ejected downward, right?”

Manager: “So?”

Me: “And for several weeks you figured it’s a good idea to let it do it next to a large puddle of flammable hydraulic fluid?”

It took him a moment to realize that only by sheer luck did they not set the whole machine on fire.

From that call onward, I made certain to always make it perfectly clear to the clients, in cases where their machines can PHYSICALLY work despite certain issues, that doing so may result in catastrophic damage — even when the risk should be very obvious to anyone with a basic understanding of the machinery.

Related:
A Forklift Load Of Attitude