Sit Down Or Fall Down

, , , , , | Working | January 17, 2020

(I’ve recently broken my ankle, but I’m beginning to walk on it again using a walker or, in this instance, a cane. We are going to a restaurant, and all of the handicap spots are taken. They drop me off and go to park in the back of the parking lot. I go inside to check in.)

Me: “Hello, we have a reservation for [My Name].”

Host: “Yes, your table is ready, but we won’t be able to seat you until the entire party is here.”

Me: “Could you make an exception? I’m struggling a little here—” *gestures to my walking boot and cane* “—and I need to sit down.”

Host: “You’re welcome to sit in the waiting area.”

(I look. All of the waiting area seats are taken. I move towards them, but no one offers me a seat, and the people I ask refuse. My family still hasn’t come in from parking.)

Me: “Please, I really need to sit down.”

Host: “Ma’am, I can’t let you sit until everyone is here. If you don’t like it, I can get the manager.”

Me: *almost in tears from pain* “Why can’t you just let me sit at the table?”

Host: “It’s policy.”

(At this point, another party was called, and I took one of the waiting area seats they vacated. My family members took almost another ten minutes to find parking and walk from the far spot inside, so it’s a good thing the other party got called or I might have collapsed.)

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Unfiltered Story #182536

, , | Unfiltered | January 17, 2020

(I’m in high school on an out-of-state field trip. We stop for lunch on the final day of the trip and my friend and I finish early. We decide to walk to the gas station down the street so my friend can buy some candy for the remainder of the trip and I can try to find a souvenir that’s not fragile or grossly overpriced. Only two employees are working in the gas station, one in the back room and one behind the cash register. My friend buys her candy and waits for me outside while I look for a souvenir. I find one that I like and can afford and bring it to the counter. Keep in mind that everything said up until now has been in English and there is nothing about me or the cashier to indicate that either of us know Spanish at all.)

Cashier: “¡Hola! ¿Como estás?”

(I’m surprised, but decide to use what I’ve learned in the Spanish classes I’ve been taking, since I know enough to hold a basic conversation and have a good accent.)

Me: “Cansado. ¿Y tu?”

Cashier: *deer in the headlights look* “Oh sh**.”

(The employee in the back lost it laughing while I hurriedly explained that I actually did speak English and was taking Spanish as a second language. The cashier rang up my souvenir and just for kicks, I called out, “¡Adios!” as I was leaving. The guy in the back was still laughing at the cashier when I left. I wonder if he ever tried that again.)

You’re Only Getting Gravel For Christmas

, , , , , , | Working | December 24, 2019

My parents live in a very rural area, with gravel roads and long distances between houses. The advent of online ordering has been a godsend for them as they get older, as having items delivered is much easier than making the trip all the way into town.

However, shortly before Christmas last year, their deliveries from a specific delivery company stopped arriving. They had three different packages which were all marked as delivered, but never actually arrived. They called around to the company, and they got assurance that the boxes had been left on their porch, and the suggestion was made that maybe someone walked off with them. Not helpful.

Then, the next day, a man drove up with a pickup truck and knocked on the door. He introduced himself as the son of the couple who used to live at the house at the end of the gravel road leading up to my parent’s place, and he had all three packages with him. 

It turns out, he had been stopping by their house to get it cleaned up to sell after his parents moved in with him, and he had found a massive pile of boxes stacked up on the porch of the house, several of them with damage from the snow that had fallen. They were for addresses all down the road, and so he was going down to drop them off.

My parents were more confused than angry, but they called into the delivery company to let them know what had happened. The person on the other end was very rude, accusing them of prank calling, as apparently, several other families had phoned in, as well. Dad got angry at that and got in his truck to drive to the location in the nearest city to give them a piece of his mind. In a frankly magical coincidence, he got to the end of the street right as a delivery driver from that company was walking up to the house at the end of the street, with an armful of packages. He quickly pulled over and got out of the truck, calling out to the driver.

The delivery driver looked over at him and ran forward, dropping a couple of boxes into the snow, before dumping the entire stack onto the porch. My dad hurried forward, but the delivery driver dodged around him, ran back to his truck, and pulled out down the main street. My dad was dumbfounded at that point and ended up heading into the city as he’d planned.

It turns out that a couple of the other neighbors had the same idea, as he ran into them in the lobby of the delivery company. The person behind the counter apparently looked pretty intimidated from all of them pressing for answers. Eventually, a manager was called, and then a higher manager, before they got the whole story.

It turns out, the delivery driver my dad had seen was new, and apparently was “nervous” about driving on gravel roads. Rather than getting a different job or requesting a different route, he decided to just dump all of the packages on the first house of each gravel road. When the higher manager called him to get his side of the story, his excuse was apparently that they’d all know each other anyway, so they could handle handing the packages out.

My parents and I assume he got fired after that, as package deliveries resumed normally after that, and they’ve never had a problem since then with packages being dumped at someone else’s house.

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Unfiltered Story #180420

, , | Unfiltered | December 24, 2019

(I’m working the drive-thru taking money when my coworker is assigned to take orders for me during a rush. We’re both wearing headsets even though I really didn’t need one, but boy was I glad I kept mine on.)
Customer: Can I get two spicy chicken sandwiches?
Coworker: Two?
Customer: Spicy chicken.
Coworker: Yes?
Customer: Yes.

(The customer then proceeded to drive around to the window and pay)

Even Crazier That He Is Jack The Ripper

, , , , , | Friendly | December 18, 2019

(My friend and I like watching classic movies. This time we’re watching “12 Angry Men.” There’s a scene where Juror #2 has a monologue. He’s a tiny, meek, bald guy with glasses and a distinctly high, squeaky voice.)

Me: “Do you recognize that voice?”

Friend: “Uh… no?”

Me: “Well, you should. That’s Piglet from Winnie the Pooh.

(I then watch in amusement as it takes a couple of seconds for the voice to register in his head, and then his eyes bug out and his jaw drops.)

Friend: “Oh… my… God!”

Me: *laughing* “Yeah, have fun trying not to think about that every time he speaks now.”

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