Unfiltered Story #104556

, , , , | Unfiltered | January 29, 2018

(I work at a grocery store. One of the tasks that we crew members have is a ‘cart run,’ which is basically just going out into the parking lot and collecting carts and bringing them back into the store. One day, in the middle of February during a snowstorm, as I was struggling to push carts through the sludge, a woman in a floor-length fur coat comes up to me and grabs my arm, stopping me dead in my tracks. She speaks in the American version of an upper-crust posh accent.)

Woman: “Really, dear, I must commend you for your hard work.”

Me: “Oh, thank—”

Woman: “I’m sure that if you work hard enough, you might be able to make something out of yourself. I’m sure that for people of your social status, it must be so difficult, but you shouldn’t let that bother you.”

(She smiles in that way that people do when they think they’ve just done a good deed, as though she just paid me a compliment, and I’m sure in her head, it was a compliment. Meanwhile, I’m completely floored.)

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “Well, being part of the working class and all—”

(At this point, I’ve had enough and interrupt her, adopting a similar posh-like accent. I just want to get the carts back into the store and get out of the freezing cold and biting wind.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’ll have you know, I am currently working on my master’s degree at Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts. I’m sure you’ve heard of it?”

Woman: *stammering* “Oh, yes, of course, who hasn’t heard of Miska—”

Me: “Miskatonic University. My major is archaeology with a specific study on ancient tomes and texts. Have you ever heard of the Necronomicon, written by the mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred?”

Woman: “Oh, I’m sure I have…”

Me: “My work with that tome is going to change everything. So you see, I am not simply a cart-pusher or cashier. Now, if you don’t mind…”

(I gesture to the carts, which have started to slide sideways in the harsh winter winds.)

Woman: “Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.”

Me: “Hm.”

(She stumbles off to her car, a Mercedes Benz, and skids out of the parking lot. I guess luxury cars and snowstorms don’t mix. In all, I don’t know what made me more sad; her affluenza and oblivious personality, or her lack of knowledge concerning classic American literature.)

Celebrating Another Saviour At Christmas

, , , , , , , | Related | December 21, 2017

(It is Christmas time. I am visiting home from university, and my sister and I are trying to do as much Christmas shopping as we can in the limited time we have. Since I attend school 18 hours away, I’m not on my parents insurance, but my sister is. Our parents agree to let us borrow the car if we promise to pick my dad up from his work later in the afternoon. As a result, we do a lot of shopping close to where my dad works. During this trip, I am annoying my sister, unintentionally, by forgetting to lock the door. I am used to a friend’s car at my school, where, if you lock her door manually, it throws off the automatic system. We get to our last stop and I FINALLY remember to lock my door. I even make a big show of waving my hands at her and pointing at the locked door. She smiles, gives me a thumbs up, grabs her purse, and closes the door. As we go to walk away, I notice something is off.)

Me: “Is… Is the car running?”

Sister: “I just locked the keys inside the car.”

(We both just look at each other in disbelief over what happened THE ONE TIME forgetting to lock the door would’ve been helpful. We look around, hoping that maybe there is another way in, but alas, no. So, my sister has to call my dad.)

Sister: “Hi, Dad. Sorry to bother you, but I am at [Store] and I accidentally locked the keys in the car.”

Dad: *taking it surprisingly well* “Oh, that’s fine; I actually have the spare key with me.”

Sister: *relieved* “Really?”

Dad: “Yeah, so, I can get a ride down and come help you out when I finish at three.”

(This would’ve been great if it was close to 3 pm, but it was 1 pm.)

Sister: “Yeah, here’s the thing: it’s kind of on.”

Dad: *pause* “It’s what?

Sister: “The car is sort of running.”

Dad: *slowly* “So, you’re telling me that you locked the keys in the car, with the car running?”

Sister: “Yeah.”

(My dad sighed and said he would get his colleague to drive down with the key and help us out. Since we had already messed up by locking the keys in the car, we didn’t want our car to get stolen if we left it. So, even though it was winter in Canada, and therefore freezing, we waited outside for our saviour. To keep warm, we invented a jig, which we named after the colleague, and danced to it. The lyrics were basically repeating his name over and over, occasionally adding in his nickname. He did come and save us, so we bought him chocolates and a thank-you card for our dad to give him the next day.)

Really Gives Me The Heels

, , , , , | Friendly | December 4, 2017

(My friend and I are heading to his car, which is parked in downtown Seattle. We’re approached by a short black man appearing to be in his late 40s with a thick Southern accent.)

Man: “Y’all got any money you could lend me? I’m here visitin’ from N’awleans, see, and my car got impounded. I’m trying to raise money to get it out of impound.”

(My friend and I have only a moment to start the normal “Sorry, can’t help you” spiel we give panhandlers, but the guy quickly continues.)

Man: “See, I’m visitin’ from N’awleans. Y’all got a gorgeous city here, though. It is absolutely gorgeous.”

Friend: “Yeah, it’s pretty when the weather is good.”

Man: “Yeah, they ain’t been no rain while I been here; it’s been gorgeous. You know what else is gorgeous? Y’all’s women! Man, they fine! Y’all got some good lookin’ women in Seattle, but I’m a short man and they so tall! What they puttin’ in your water makin’ these women so tall?”

Me: *laughing* “Not sure, man.”

Man: “You know what else, though, ’bout this city, is these heels is killin’ me!”

(My friend and I both look at his shoes — normal sneakers — expecting to see pumps or platforms or something.)

Man: *feigning offense* “Now, why you people always be looking at my feet when I talk about y’all’s heels? Huh? I said, ‘heels!’ Not, ‘heels!’”

(We’re both getting confused.)

Man: “Man, how you white people say it?” *he stiffens up, straightens his shoulders, and does a faux Napoleon pose with his hands, then speaks in a deep, mockingly formal-sounding voice* “HILLS!” *he relaxes* “Y’all’s heels! See? They killin’ me!”

(The animated way he conducted himself was so entertaining to us we couldn’t help but give him some money. Hope he got his “car” out of “impound.”)

Reading Signs Should Be A Walk In The Car Park

, , , , , | Right | November 30, 2017

(My shopping centre is in an area where many customers feel very entitled, and we have just changed the pricing structure for all-day parking. It should also be noted that for all-day workers, we have cheaper deals in other car parks around the center that work out to be less than half than what the all-day payment is. I get this call over the intercom from one of the payment machines. )

Me: “Hello, can I help you?”

Caller: “Yes, I’d like to know when you changed your price for all-day parking?”

Me: “The signs went up last night, so you would have read them on your way into the car park today.”

Caller: “I saw no such thing. Why did you not inform me of the change?”

Me: “Sir, we had signs up at all entry points and pay machines this morning as well as the new price structure at the entries to the car parks. If you had read any of those very visible signs you would have seen that the price had gone up.”

Caller: “But why didn’t you tell me? I demand that I pay the original price.”

Me: “Sir, we can’t inform every patron of the car park that this has happened, which is why we put signs up in visible locations around the parking area, including entries and pay machines.”

Caller: “Well, you should have told me! I refuse to pay the new price.”

Me: “Sir, if that is what you want to do, then go ahead, but I must warn you that if you don’t pay for your parking then you can’t get your car out of the parking lot.”

Caller: “I will pay [original amount], but I will not pay [new amount]. You can’t keep my car in here; it is against the law!”

Me: “Actually, sir, part of the terms and conditions that you agree to upon entering our parking structure is that you will pay for however long you have stayed in our car park. If you don’t want to pay that much for all-day parking, there are cheaper options in other car parks.”

Caller: “But those car parks are further away from my office. Wait… You expect me to read those signs at the entry?”

Me: “Yes, sir, as they are the legal agreement that you are entering into upon entering our car park. I understand that those car parks may be further away from your office, but this car park is for those who are doing their groceries and is mostly a short stay car park.”

Caller: “That is ridiculous; you still should have told me about the change.”

Me: “I’m terribly sorry, sir; I will make a note of it for next time we change anything in our car parks. Please pay for your ticket and have a great day.”

Your Brain Is In Park

, , , , | Hopeless | October 18, 2017

I was slower than expected getting my driver’s license. One day, when I was still new to driving and didn’t have class, I had to go run some errands. I went to the bank, and my brain momentarily forgot how to park.

I ended up close to, but not actually, damaging someone’s car, and couldn’t get out of the situation. The woman in it called her husband, a truck driver, who came out and offered to help me readjust my car. I hopped out and trusted him to do so, crying and having a full-out panic attack. It was the first I ever had, and I still feel it a little sometimes when I remember what happened. I noticed the bank security guard coming out to watch the situation; he kept looking at me and smiling, nodding reassuringly but staying near his post.

The guy fixed my car’s position and then went to the security guard, asking him something I didn’t hear as I went and got everything I needed out of my car.

The couple continuously reassured me that everything was fine, not a mark on the vehicles, etcetera, and then the man led me inside, where the security guard was just bringing me a cup of water to help me calm down.

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