Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

So Happy That You Missed A Payment

, , , , , , | Right | September 16, 2021

I received a phone call in mid-January from a credit card company. With the craziness of the holidays, I had managed to miss a payment. The agent I spoke with was understanding and we actually chatted about life and motherhood and the craziness it can cause in one’s life.

All in all, the total phone call was probably only about forty-five minutes, including making a payment.

A few days later, as I’m walking out to check the mail, I notice a box on the porch from an online flower delivery company. My first thought is, “Oh, no, someone misdelivered a package to my house.” I pick it up to see if the address is close so I can drop it off and, to my surprise, it not only has my address but my name!

I take it inside, and I’m not gonna lie here, I’m already teary-eyed. When I open the box, there are two dozen yellow roses in a beautiful white and blue vase. I find the card and the surprises just keep coming. Not only have I got flowers, but they are from a complete stranger located in a different state!

The agent has sent me flowers with a note of encouragement from one mom to another. I sit down on my kitchen floor and cry like a baby. I’m so touched that not only a stranger but someone I only talked to for less than an hour took the time to send me some encouragement and flowers!

I call the card company. The nice man who answers the phone tells me I can’t be transferred to a specific agent, so I ask for a manager. When I get one, I tell her the whole story and, while starting to cry again, ask if she can please pass on my thanks and let the agent’s supervisor know what an amazing person they have working for them.

To that agent, wherever you are, I hope you know you made my day, week, and possibly year. It is things like this that remind me that while there is trouble, anger, and hate in the world, there is also kindness, generosity, and love for our fellow man.

1 Thumbs
696

Those Worker’s Hands Worked Their Magic

, , , , | Right | September 15, 2021

My grandmother and mother have always rented out an apartment they own. One day, the old tenants move out, and my father decides to take an interest in the proceedings because the rent barely covers the property expenses. He personally vets the new tenant, a posted worker, and decides he must be all right because he has “rough workers’ hands”.

Everything goes well at first, but after a while, several flags come up. The tenant asks my father for the deposit to cover a family emergency, and when he returns the sum, it’s not in cash but as two IOUs for the same amount. The tenant’s wife moves back to her family and he’s the only one left in the flat.

Despite this, the neighbours occasionally complain about loud noises. When Italian currency is converted from lira to euro, the tenant decides to “round” the 516 euro of the monthly rent to 500 and cover the difference with… lemons.

The lease contract is made so that the landlord can only end it for very specific reasons, and I need the apartment to go and live on my own. The tenant agrees, saying that he was looking for a different flat already as the rent is too high. But months go by and he stays on, giving excuse after excuse for being unable to move out, and saying that I always have my parents’ house — it’s not like I am sleeping under a bridge, am I?

To cut a long story short, when he finally moved out — half a year after the agreed date — he had two months of rent unpaid, not to mention several instances of “lemons”; he owed over 2,000 euros in maintenance fees which my parents had to fork over in his stead; the power was soon cut, meaning that the bills had gone unpaid, as well; and there were five or six rusty bedsprings (including one in a room with no windows), a sign that the tenant was subletting to immigrant workers. Even if they were paying him 100€ each, they would cover the rent, but I’m told the going prices are about three times that.

As a cherry on top, we were left with “smoked” walls, grease stains around the light switches, and someone’s name carved on a door.

It was a while before my boyfriend and I could make the flat fit for living, and a while longer before the other people in the building stopped giving us the stink-eye in the elevator.

1 Thumbs
287

Thirty-Two Ounces Of Stupid Trouble

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: hypnos1214 | September 14, 2021

I used to be a cashier at a warehouse store — one of those members-only places. We had this policy — which a lot of cashiers hated — stating that everything had to be transferred from one cart/flatbed to another when customers checked out. I didn’t mind as I was able to lift and move things with ease. A lot of the cashiers, including myself, didn’t fully understand the policy — that is, until this fateful day.

It was a day just like any other, filled with constant mundane, “Did you find everything okay?” and, “Thank you, have a nice day.” It was coming to the end of my shift and I’d had it with doing the correct thing.

A member — it was a sin to call them customers — came up with a flatbed. He had a few small items and one box of thirty-two-ounce Styrofoam cups. I saw this and thought, “If it were something heavier, I wouldn’t transfer it.” I put all of his little items on the belt and then got a flatbed, as we only kept an empty cart at our registers.

When I came back, I grabbed the box of cups, and as soon as I lifted it, the bottom fell out and two computers were left on the cart while I was holding this big empty box. I looked at the member, and I was about to say something along the lines of an apology and that someone else must have done this. (We were trained not to directly accuse members of such behavior). Before I could say a word, he was gone. He ran out the door and almost plowed over the older lady who checks receipts.

Here’s what makes this funny. All he had to do was play stupid and pay for the other things and he’d have been in the clear.

At the beginning of interactions, we take the members’ membership cards and hand them back with the receipt, so his membership card was sitting on my register. Since he scared the elderly employee and left the cups from the box all over the aisle, my manager decided to call the police. Now, I know this isn’t theft, but there is a crime in my state called “concealment of goods”. It’s basically a way to catch shoplifters before they legally shoplift. So, the police came and all the member’s info was in the system. I had to verify that the member did indeed match the picture. They looked at security cameras and the police left to get a warrant for his arrest.

This is only a misdemeanor, but still, all he had to do was stay put and nothing would have happened to him.

1 Thumbs
448

Gotta Love Consequences

, , , , , | Legal | September 14, 2021

This happened when my parents went on their honeymoon in Spain. Back then, there were ID checks each time you transferred from one nation to another, and the one at the France-Spain border in particular had a queue going on for miles.

My father, who was driving, moved to the emergency lane, went past a line of 100+ cars, and merged back into the queue just before the Border Police shack.

Out of the shack came a French gendarme with the red and green traffic baton. He singled out my parents’ car and directed them to move onto the median strip. Once they were there, he put the baton under his armpit and walked back inside the shack while the other motorists jeered and cheered.

It was more than an hour before my parents were allowed to join the queue again.

1 Thumbs
534

A Quarter A Tray Brings Kindness To Stay

, , , , , , , , | Learning | September 14, 2021

In 1998, I was in my junior year of high school. School lunches were broken up into four periods, each lasting thirty minutes, to accommodate the nearly 1,600 students in my school.

Some kids brought lunch, and for those of us that purchased lunch at school, we were given trays to carry our food on. The use of a tray incurred a $0.25 deposit in your total. If you purchased $5.00 worth of food, you’d actually be charged $5.25 with that extra 25 cents for the tray. The idea here was to encourage students to clean up after themselves, bus their garbage to a nearby trash can, and then return the tray to the Quarter Lady. I don’t know if any of us actually knew her real name; she was just referred to as the Quarter Lady because she’d take the empty and clean tray — couldn’t have gobs of food stuck to it or garbage on it — and then hand you a quarter for returning the tray to her.

During the lunch period, some students either didn’t have much money or found it was easy to earn a few extra bucks by going from table to table and offering to return people’s trays and clearing their garbage for them. Most other students didn’t mind if they ran trays back to earn a few bucks to buy lunch.

A few weeks into the school year, [Student], who normally came by to ask for trays from time to time, started asking everyone if he could bus their trays. We didn’t know why. No one really made any noise about the situation he was trying to help out with, not at least until a few days later.

Word had been getting around that the Quarter Lady — an older lady, maybe in her late sixties or early seventies — had been diagnosed with some sort of cancer and students had been wondering why we hadn’t seen her at the tray return location to hand out quarters.

It seems that [Student] had been running all the trays he could so he could start a donation for the Quarter Lady. All the quarters he gathered, he would give back to the other lunch staff. Pretty soon, all the students were donating their quarters and other change in a donation bin set up at the tray return.

For the life of me, I cannot remember what happened with the Quarter Lady, but I do remember that the students raised almost $15,000 by the end of the school year.

1 Thumbs
794