Unfiltered Story #101130

, , | Unfiltered | December 6, 2017

I lost my lower left leg in a car accident years ago and now use a prosthetic. Even though I have a disabled plate and placard I don’t always need to park in a handicap spot. I only use those spots on my bad days when I experience ghost pains or pain in the area of the amputation and have trouble walking or standing on that leg for a prolonged length of time. However when you see me, unless I’m wearing shorts or a dress, you can’t tell I have a prosthetic leg and I may look “normal” to people. On those bad days the only tell-tale sign may be a little limp at most but nothing too obvious.

On one bad day that I needed to use a handicap spot an employee who was taking a smoking break outside the store took it upon herself to confront me in the parking lot after I got out of my car and accused me of not being handicap, that I didn’t deserve to park in that spot and that I should be ashamed because I was abusing the system and that I was just being lazy. She even threatened to call the police and even said someone on disability couldn’t afford the kind of car I had.

Note: just because someone is disabled doesn’t automatically mean they’re on disability or can’t work.

By now people were watching her ranting and some actually agreed with her or just watched. I tried to explain just because I don’t look handicap doesn’t mean I’m not but nothing helped. Now, I’m not embarrassed of injury but I am a little self-conscious of it when it becomes the center of attention. So even though I didn’t have to, I raised my pants leg to show the prosthetic.

I have never seen a group of idiots shut up so fast. The employee who started it all just said, “Whatever! Not my fault!” and walked back into the store without even apologising. Most of the small crowd of people who were agreeing with her walked away too. Most without saying a word, others just laughed it off like it was a joke. Only one person had the decency to say sorry for assuming.

Situations like this has happened a handful of times over the years and I normally I would have just let it go because the accuser usually apologises and get’s a lesson on not judging a book by it’s cover etc. but not this time. Not after what she said about it not being her fault. Whether she meant she wasn’t at fault for accusing me for not being handicap or not at fault for my injury, I wasn’t going to just let it go this time.

I went into the store and to the service desk and reported her and they sent for the manager. I explained again to him what happened and he called the employee up to the service desk and when she saw me, before the manager even said a word she started defending herself, almost yelling something like, “It’s not my fault she doesn’t look like a gimp!” (yes she said gimp) “I didn’t know! Look at her! She doesn’t even need a wheelchair or nothing! She doesn’t even look it! Why should she park there?! Why is everyone mad at me!?”

After she finally finished her tirade, the manager had her go to his office and they would “talk about her behavior”. He turned to me and apologised profusely and ended up giving me a $50 gift certificate for the store. I did tell him I wasn’t blaming the store but would appreciate it if he could train the employees about those of us who are disabled and about hidden disabilities and not to just assume things. Whether or not the manager did that I don’t know but he did seem genuinely concerned that one of his employees would say such things and that he would look into it.

I’m not one for being that customer who’s always looking for freebies because I use to work in retail and understand but I didn’t mind getting that $50 gift certificate.

PS: I don’t know what happened to that employee but since that day I never saw her there again and it’s been over a year.

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A Senior Mistake

, , , , , , | Right | December 5, 2017

I work at a theater chain that offers discounts to seniors 65 or older. My manager and most of the staff hate the policy because most of the time you can’t win for losing. Either you offer and the person is offended you’ve implied they’re old, or you don’t offer because the person looks about 45 and they’re indignant that you’ve overcharged them. I’ve gotten in the habit of just guessing, and basically if you look at least 50 or have some grey, I’ll go ahead and add the discount. No one has to announce their age, and they save money. I never got a complaint before or after this one.

An obviously older customer carefully perused the ticket pricing options and very specifically asked for two adults. I went ahead and used the senior price despite her specification, since she obviously qualified, and gave her the reduced total. She happily paid and entered the building. A few minutes later, she came storming out of the theater demanding a refund, since I charged her too much and didn’t give her the senior discount. I politely told her to check her ticket again. She hurried back into the theater, now red-faced.

She was obviously trying to set up a reason to complain, given that she specified a ticket she didn’t actually want and then came to yell at me for getting it wrong based on that specification. But she just ended up embarrassing herself in front of a huge Saturday crowd, since she didn’t bother to check what she actually paid for!

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That’s One Ticked Off Dog

, , , | Healthy | December 5, 2017

I was working the other day when a client called in frantically about her dog having a tick on it’s leg. I asked the doctor if we had time to fit her in and he agreed to see the dog.

The client arrives on time and we get her and her dog into an examination room. I happen to overhear her telling the vet that she had tried burning the tick off, tweezing it, and pulling it off.

The doctor looked at it for a few moments, looked up, and said, “Ma’am, this is a mole.”

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Surprise Party With A Surprise Result

, , , , | Learning | December 4, 2017

I am a teacher and just have come to the realization that I have some form of anxiety. A side effect of this is that I constantly go through moments where I believe no one likes me, or I constantly berate myself for not being “good enough”. Even though I’m often praised for my work, or my friends reach out to help me, I often feel like I don’t matter. I’m usually really good at talking myself out of it, but it gets hard sometimes. I am also really good at putting on a good face, so people don’t normally see this.

One day, I was stressing over a busy work day and getting things together for my afternoon classes. A fellow teacher, who doesn’t have a car, had already asked if I could drive her to an appointment during the second half of lunch. I agreed, thinking I would eat during the first half, when another coworker came up to ask for a favour. She had something happen with a student and needed to help him, but she had supervision during the first half of lunch. I agreed to take over her supervision, even though I now wouldn’t get a lunch, because I knew a student’s safety was more important. After the first half of lunch, I raced back into the classroom to grab my car keys, when my kids jumped out of nowhere and yelled:


I stood there confused for a moment, until I saw “Happy Birthday [My Name]” written on the board and a dozen treats and goodies laid out. It was February and my birthday wasn’t until July, and my students had worked with another coworker to arrange a surprise party so I could celebrate my birthday “in school”. I was completely touched and happily surprised with what my students planned, and even more surprised when I found out the whole staff was in on it, too. Both of my coworkers who had needed my help that lunch period were just keeping me away from the classroom so the students could set up.

This meant more than they realized, because I used to always believe I wasn’t special enough for someone to plan a surprise party for me. To have it happen on an already stressful day, and for it to be completely unexpected, helped me in ways I can’t describe. Thank you to my class and everyone involved for making me see something I didn’t!

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Buy To Let To Bullet

, , , , , , | Related | December 4, 2017

My dad told me this story. When he was a kid, the family moved to a new house. After living there about three months, he distinctly remembers that one night they heard a loud bang, and the next morning, he and his siblings found a bullet hole in the mailbox. It was a great mystery for all the children as they wondered why a random person would shoot at their mailbox.

The mystery went unsolved. More than 40 years later, my grandfather developed rapid-onset dementia and had to be put in aged care. As my dad and my uncle went through his paperwork and belongings, trying to sort everything out, they came across several old documents which shed light on some interesting events that occurred at the time of his family’s move.

My grandfather, despite being a Catholic and never missing a Sunday mass, was not a very nice man. When my grandfather sold the previous property, a farmhouse, before moving to the new one, he deliberately neglected to tell the new owner of the farmhouse that the small piece of land in front of the house — the only entrance to get into the driveway — was actually private property. My grandfather had bought it from the council some years back and now owned it, and he didn’t sell that tiny bit of land to the new owner.

He then, after the sale of the house was finalised, informed the new owner that that piece of land was his, and that he’d give permission for the new owner to use it — essentially, to drive through it to reach their driveway — for a sum of $500 per year, which would be about $3000 in today’s money.

Forty years later, my dad finally understood the bullet-hole in the mailbox.

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