Lions And Tigers And Tired Moms, Oh My!

, , , , , | | Related | June 21, 2019

(I am at the zoo with my family looking at the tigers. The lions are on the other side of the zoo. A woman in her 20s walks up holding an 18-month- to two-year-old child.)

Woman: “Look, honey! See the lions?”

Unfiltered Story #155121

, , | | Unfiltered | June 20, 2019

I’m working the evening shift alone. It’s policy that when we’re alone and need to use the restroom, we wait until every customer has left and lock all of the doors.
It’s a little after 10pm and I’ve been waiting for two hours for the store to clear so I can take a quick pee break.
I lock the doors, put a sign up explaining what is going on, and take care of business.
A few minutes later, I open back up and help the customers that had been waiting outside.
A man comes to the counter. He’s a regular, but doesn’t talk very much. He’s physically very intimidating, so I’m a bit nervous.
Turns out, he just wanted to make sure I was safe. He saw the people outside, but didn’t see me, so he pulled a U-turn on the highway and rushed over to make sure I was okay.

Thank you Sir.

This Food Ain’t Worth Spit

, , , , | | Working | June 6, 2019

(My husband and I have just picked up our son from his dance class, which released a bit late due to rehearsals. We decide to go into a popular food chain for dinner. We have no trouble ordering at the counter, and I follow my son to the table he’s picked out while my husband gets our drinks. Other than a couple enjoying the last of their meal, the only other occupants of the lobby are two employees, probably in their early 20s, sitting around, talking quite loudly. I don’t get it, since they’re clearly understaffed in the kitchen, but I brush it off as them being off the clock and waiting on a ride. Everything’s fine until we settle down.)

Employee #1: “Man, I tell you what. I hate that manager! I hate him so f****** much. Why the h*** they gotta hire these a**holes?”

Employee #2: “Nah, he’s not as bad as [Other Manager]. That b**** signed me up for a whole extra shift this week! Like I’m not already busting my a** with two a week. I hate this stupid, worthless, f****** job. I hate this whole f****** company.”

(The cashier we ordered from joins them at this point, and hubby brings the tray over. The “chat” continues in a similar vein between the three for a bit, swearing all the while. More than once, I’m tempted to speak up, but I just bite my tongue and ignore their rants, figuring it’s not worth it. That is, until about halfway through our meals:)

Cashier: “These customers are the d*** worst! I mean, seriously, what the f*** is their problem? This guy sent his food back three times yesterday!”

Employee #2: “Why didn’t you just spit in his food?”

Cashier: “Too many cameras, man. I would if I could.”

Employee #1: “Doesn’t stop me. I know how; I’ll show you.”

(At this point, my husband is hurriedly gathering everything back onto the tray and goes to stand up, but I stop him.)

Me: “I got this.”

(I gather the tray, and head for the counter, walking straight past the oblivious trio. I am NOT a confrontational person. My husband usually handles complaints because I get tongue-tied and flustered. Not so this time.)

Me: *to another employee* “Can I see your manager, please?”

Employee #3: “He’s with an order. Can you wait just a few minutes?”

Me: “No. No, I really can’t. Manager. Now.”

(In retrospect, I AM sorry for scaring her, but at the time, I wasn’t really thinking about it. It should also be noted that, due to all the noise in the back, the employees can’t really be heard above a low rumble at the counter.)

Manager: *handing off drive-thru headset* “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Me: “Yes, you can. Your employees, there, are talking about spitting in customers’ food. Well within earshot of my family.”

(The man’s eyebrows jump up and he turns extremely pale.)

Manager: “I… completely understand, ma’am. Let me just remake that for you…”

Me: “I’m not done. They’re also griping about hating their shifts, their managers… [Other Manager] was one they mentioned… and how much they hate working here and with your company. And swearing like sailors, to boot.”

Manager: “Well, let me get this remade for you, and I will certainly be taking care of this severely.”

Me: “Thought you’d like to know. Can we get that to go? I think the other people have left already, and I’m not going to hang around with them anymore.”

(He nodded and came back with our order completely remade, as well as a card with his name and number on it, with instructions to call if any of us got sick. As we drove away, all I could see from the road was the lobby sign suddenly flipping to closed. I’m willing to bet I’m glad to have missed out on the complete a**-chewing that likely followed, and on subsequent visits, none of those employees were in sight.)

Take Note That Notaries Exist For A Reason

, , , , | | Working | May 31, 2019

(I need to renew my passport because I have gotten married. I have all the forms needed to submit for a new passport with my married name, including an official copy of my marriage certificate that I bought at city hall. Admittedly, I am a bit flustered by the time I speak with the worker because this post office has been hard to find, and I spent about ten minutes trying to find it. After waiting in a short line, I finally get to speak to the one worker at the desk.)

Me: “Hi. I’m here to apply for a new passport.”

Worker: “Okay, do you have the money and paperwork?”

Me: “Yep! Got the paperwork filled out and a check right here.”

Worker: “Oh, we only do cash.”

Me: “Really? But I don’t have enough on me.”

Worker: “There is a gas station down the road with an ATM. You can get cash there.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I’m annoyed, but that’s my fault for not seeing that they only do cash. After withdrawing the $110, I go back, wait in line and talk to the same worker.)

Me: “Okay, got the cash, got the paperwork.”

Worker: “Do you have the two forms of ID?”

Me: “Yep. Driver’s license and old passport. And since the old passport is in my maiden name, I also brought a copy of my marriage license with me.”

Worker: “I can’t accept this. It’s a copy.”

Me: “Yes, it’s a notarized copy.”

Worker: “I can’t send a copy. It won’t work.”

Me: “I can assure you it will. This is why I paid $2 for it. It is an official copy.”

Worker: “They’ll just send your application back and you’ll be out the money. You have to send in the original.”

Me: “I’m not mailing out my actual marriage license. The copy will work. Mail my passport application out with it.”

Worker: “It won’t work. I’m going to write a note on it that I told you it won’t work so you can’t argue to get your money back when they send it back.”

Me: “Fine, just send it out.”

(A few months later I got my new passport, and all the documents I had submitted with the application. I took great pleasure in throwing her stupid note away.)

Hell’s Angels’ Little Angel

, , , , , , | | Hopeless | May 26, 2019

There is a scenic overlook close enough to our house that we generally take the drive every fall and spring. There are breathtaking vistas about every three miles. My middle child has disabilities and can get overwhelmed by things. She doesn’t particularly like heights but will look out the window each time we pull over to take pictures. She is content, though, to stay in the van with the door open.

At one stop, I was taking pictures when I heard a large group of motorcycles roll in. I knew what would happen next.

Sure enough, when I turned around, my child had unbuckled, jumped out of the van, and run over to the bikers. She loves motorcycles and those who ride them. She doesn’t talk much but can say, “Oooh! Nice!” clearly.

I walked over and listened to the bikers telling my daughter about their bikes and asking her what she thought of each.

I asked if I could take a picture of them all and they all smiled and posed. My very short daughter, clad in pink, was surrounded by men and women in black leather. They all smiled brightly for the shot.

Then, each handed me their cell phones so they could get a picture of their own.

We chatted on that vista for another fifteen minutes or so. My daughter sat on one man’s bike while he and I discussed the best lunch destinations nearby.

My daughter was disappointed that she didn’t get to ride off with her new friends, but she was happy enough to get hugs and high-fives before we went our separate ways.