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A Jump, A Fall, And A Lesson

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: alikissjoy | October 16, 2021

I’m working the desk at a hotel and a mom brings her hysterically crying ten- to twelve-year-old daughter to the desk.

Mom: “Tell her what you did.”

Daughter: *Between sobs* “I jumped up in the hallway and slapped the exit sign and it fell down.”

Mom: “My daughter’s going to pay to replace it. I want her to learn from her actions and take responsibility for it.”

I know it’s in our hotel nature to say it’s okay or no problem, but I know this is important to her mom.

Me: *To the daughter* “Thank you for coming and telling me what you did. Why did you choose do that?”

Daughter: “I thought it would be fun. I never thought it would fall off!”

Me: “Will you ever do that again?”

Daughter: “No, never. I’m so sorry.”

Me: “Let’s go check out the sign. If there is a fire, then guests may not be able to see where the exit was without it, and it could be very dangerous.”

The three of us go to the hallway. Upon inspecting the sign, it isn’t broken at all. I am able to put it back up and it works perfectly.

Me: “Luckily, there was no damage, so there is no cost you have to pay to replace it. I’m proud of you for taking responsibility for what you did.”

Mom: “I’m proud of you, too.”

We often deal with such negativity and naughty adults and children on the job. I was so happy that a child owned up to her mistake — with a firm nudge from mom — and that there was no harm to the hotel.

Mothers Like This Are The Worst Breed

, , , , , , | Right | October 15, 2021

My mother has a notoriously aggressive dog. It’s small, but it’s prone to biting and my mom actively encourages it, making her growl and snap because she thinks it’s a funny party trick to show guests. She and the dog have been banned from most groomers. She asks me to carry the dog to a vet and groomer for her.

Me: “[Vet]? Are you sure? I thought she couldn’t go back there?”

Mom: “I called and they said they can take her.”

Me: “Why?”

Mom: “What do you mean, why? She’s a good girl! The old groomer just didn’t know what she was doing! The new groomer said she’d take her!”

Me: “Okay.”

I go to the vet. They don’t do appointments so they don’t know I am coming.

Vet Tech: “Hi! What can I do for y’all today? What a cute puppy, my goodness!”

Me: “Yeah, she’s… she’s… I’m here for grooming.”

Vet Tech: “Okie dokie! What’s the name?”

Me: “[My Name.]”

Vet Tech: “Sorry, sweetie. I don’t have a file for you.”

Me: “Oh, my bad! It’ll be under [Mother].”

Vet Tech: “All righty! I…” *Stares at screen* “One second.”

She goes to the back and returns less than a minute later.

Vet Tech: “[Dog] is approved for vet visits only. You were informed of this.”

She is instantly very serious and no longer happy to see the “cute puppy.”

Me: “So… what do I do? My mom said she called, and you said it was okay?”

Vet Tech: “No. It’s not. You could go to a groomer she hasn’t seen before, because she won’t be barred from there.”

Me: *Drowning in embarrassment* “Okay… let me go call my mom, I guess.”

I step outside and call her. She’s pissed at me, as if it’s my fault. I get her to admit she never gave the vet tech her name or dog’s name over the phone and the vet tech only said that walk-ins for grooming were allowed in general, not that our dog’s ban got lifted.

She’s still mad. She tells me to wait outside for a few minutes and hangs up on me. Through the window, I see the vet tech answer the phone and have a many-minute-long conversation with hate on her face the whole time. When she’s done, she gives me a look like I killed her entire family and I get a text from my mom saying to try again.

Me: “Hi… Did… my mom call you?”

Vet Tech: *Visibly upset* “Yes. [Dog] can get a bath. A bath. Pick her up at three.” *Snatches the leash from me*

Me: “Okay… Be careful, she can be a little rude.”

She shot me a death glare. I cried the whole way home from the embarrassment. They ended up asking me to get her at one and only her back had been washed. I left a big tip with my mom’s credit card.

He Just Wants You To Apply Yourself!

, , , , , , | Related | October 15, 2021

I was lucky enough to graduate college right around when the health crisis hit. Finding a job in my preferred field became a lot harder, so in the meantime, I’ve been applying to just about every opening I come across. However, most of these jobs are retail or customer service, which I don’t have a lot of experience in. I tend to get passed over in favor of applicants who do, which is only to be expected.

But my not-at-all-tech-savvy father recently decided that the real reason I’m not getting hired is that I simply need to “show more initiative” by walking in and applying in person. He’s constantly trying to bring me to places that are hiring —- 99% of the time, I’ve already applied there online, of course — and will tell me to go in and ask the manager for a job, despite me explaining to him that pretty much no one does things that way anymore. Avoiding him is more or less impossible since I still live at home.

I’ve asked managers, in front of him, if they accept anything other than online applications, and I’ve taken pictures of signs telling job seekers to apply online. This generally works for only a few days before my father hears through the grapevine that someone somewhere got hired by just walking in, and it starts all over again. My heart goes out to every manager who’s had to put up with this kind of stubbornness before.

Dad Really Wants To Spell Things Out For You

, , , , | Related | October 14, 2021

It’s the day before my first job interview, and I’m practising the language needed in the kitchen. The script doesn’t use the Latin alphabet, so I’m reading aloud to myself, relatively quietly. Every time my dad walks into the room, he gives me weird looks, and after I call it a day, he says this.

Dad: “You can’t do that when you’re working in an office.”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “The muttering. It won’t fly in such a place.”

Me: “I know. You’ve said before.”

Dad: “You did it anyway. That’s going to get you fired.”

Me: “I’m aware. I don’t read aloud outside the house.”

Dad: “You need to stop so you don’t do it in an office.”

This is not the only time he’s used, “If you were in an office, you wouldn’t do this, or would do that.” Our home is NOT an office.

Mom On A Cold Tin Roof

, , , , | Right | October 12, 2021

My mother has gained her new independence through her divorce and gone back to school. While I am very proud of her, this, unfortunately, fuels her entitled “the customer is always right” attitude into a brand-new weapon and makes her think she knows everything — such as critiquing the WAY someone argues with her by shouting, “THAT’S A FALLACY!” in their face rather than actually listening to their point, or thinking that she knows anything and everything about running a business.

While I was used to this behavior growing up, I’ve started to notice her awful behavior more and more and stopped entertaining it. It’s begun to stress me out to the point that I can’t stand going places with her.

We are at an ice cream place at the mall that mixes ice cream with chosen ingredients in front of you.

Me: “Mom, did you want any ice cream?”

Mom: “Yeah, I want a Tin Roof sundae.”

Me: “I don’t think they have that. This is [Ice Cream Place].”

Mom: “They’re an ice cream place. Of course, they’ll have it. If they don’t, they can give me something like it.”

Me: “Okay, what’s in a Tin Roof sundae? At [Ice Cream Place], they have their own mixtures, or you can pick a flavor and two toppings.”

Mom: “Uh, I don’t know! It’s a common ice cream, like Rocky Road or strawberry! They should know what it is!”

Me:I don’t even know what it is! But if you give me the ingredients, I can have them make whatever is similar for you! They don’t have Tin Roof sundaes!”

Mom: “Well, how do you know? Did you ask?

Me: “I used to come here frequently. They make things a certain way. But fine, I will ask. What do you want me to say if they don’t have it?”

She stares at me. I stare back.

Mom: “Well, if they don’t know what a Tin Roof sundae is, then I don’t want anything from them.”

Me: “Okay, fine.” *Walks away*

Mom: “Do they have chocolate?

Me: “Yes!”

Mom: “Then they should have Tin Roof sundaes!”

I just facepalm and go inside to order. My mom approaches me after I order my ice cream.

Mom: “Did you ask yet?”

Me: “Not yet. It’s kind of busy and I’m trying to let the guy concentrate before I bombard him with more.”

A worker walks up.

Worker: “How can I help you?”

Mom: “Do you have Tin Roof sundaes?”

Worker: “We do not.”

Mom: *Miffed* “Well, do you have anything like it?”

Worker: “Um… you see… I don’t actually know what that is… but if you know what’s in it we can probably make something similar.”

My mom stares at the worker blankly for a solid ten seconds and walks away without another word.

Me: *Embarrassed* “Thank you. She’s good. Never mind.”

Later, when we sit down:

Me: “I told you they wouldn’t know what it is.”

Mom: “Well, that’s because she’s young. You shouldn’t work in an ice cream place if you don’t know your products.”

Me: “Yes, because a teenager working a part-time job is going to magically memorize the details of anything that has to do with the products they sell… Not like they have other things to do or an average memory or anything.”

She didn’t respond and just rolled her eyes. I enjoyed my ice cream in peace.