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This Customer Is ALWAYS Right

, , , , , , , | Right | November 17, 2022

I am sixteen, and it is my first day working at a tiny rural convenience store. My coworker is showing me the ropes.

Coworker: “Oh, since you’re here until the afternoon, you’ll get to meet Giles.”

Me: “Who is Giles?”

Coworker: “He’s the best customer ever! Can’t wait for you to meet him.”

Me: “Cool.”

My coworker is on lunch break, and I am manning the checkout. The manager of the store swings by; he’s not always there.

Manager: “Has Giles come by yet?”

Me: “I’m not actually sure.”

Manager: “Oh, you’d know if he did. He’s our favorite customer!”

Me: “So I’ve been told, but I don’t know what he looks like.”

Manager: “Trust me, you’d know. Well, I am glad I haven’t missed him. I’ll be in the office. Let me know when he comes by.”

I nod, but honestly, short of asking every customer if they happen to be Giles, I have no idea how to fulfill that request. Luckily, my coworker comes back from lunch and I get to go on mine. I come back and work until around mid-afternoon.

Suddenly, there’s a single bark from the front of the store. I see my coworker giddily rush around the checkout, rapping on the office door as he does so. Both my coworker and my manager head outside and are excitedly met by the happiest golden retriever I’ve ever seen. They give the little guy hugs and some small treats that seem to magically appear from their pockets.

My coworker then unzips a fanny pack wrapped around the dog and takes out some cash and a piece of paper. He then runs around the store, collects three or four small items, and places them into the fanny pack, zipping it back up.

After one more round of hugs and treats, the golden retriever knows it’s time to leave and happily trots off down the street.

Me: “Giles?”

Coworker & Manager: *Both beaming huge smiles* “Giles.”

It turned out that Giles’s owner was disabled and lived literally thirty seconds away, but even this was a challenge for her at times. She would send her support dog on small grocery runs on weekday afternoons while her carer made a daily visit, and then she’d come in for the bigger grocery run on the weekends.

Giles was quickly my favorite customer, too!

If Someone Hit My Dog, I Would Not Be Responsible For My Actions

, , , , , , , , | Friendly | CREDIT: MusicWhoreMan | November 17, 2022

Content Warning: Animal Abuse

 

I love my dogs. I have two dogs that I frequently take out for walks. Both are rescues and have gone through way more s*** than I have.

I decide to take Josephine (the oldest) out for a walk since Millie (the youngest) is fast asleep. We take the route we usually take when we go out for walks, and I notice that there is a new donut shop that just opened. The donuts look nice and delicious, so I decide to grab some. The only problem is that dogs aren’t allowed to go inside, but the owners have been nice enough to leave a spot outside for dogs with a bowl full of water and everything.

I chain Josephine outside. I am inside for around five minutes since there are a few people already there. I’m in line browsing on my phone when I hear my dog scream.

I look up and see this lady smacking my dog with her umbrella at full force numerous times. I quickly rush outside.

Me: “What the f*** are you doing, lady?!”

I pull Josephine away, but the lady keeps trying to smack her; she even hits me in the leg a couple of times.

I kid you not, these are the exact words that come out of this lady’s mouth.

Lady: “Your dog scratched my car!”

She gestures to her car, which is across the street, far away from Josephine. Then, she goes on this rant.

Lady: “You let your dog wander outside without a leash, and I had to it up after it scratched my car!”

I am legitimately confused because I definitely chained my dog before I went into the shop.

I immediately call the cops. The cops arrive while the woman is still ranting and screaming that I’ll have to pay for her car with my insurance. I’m fifteen, and I don’t know anything about insurance.

The cops intervene and try to defuse the situation. The lady then decides to play the victim.

Lady: “That dog viciously attacked me!”

Me: “My dog did snap at her because she was getting hit with an umbrella by a person she doesn’t know!”

The cops pulled her to the side and let her tell HER side of the story. I heard stuff about how my dog had scratched her car and attacked her and how she had “bravely” chained my dog.

Then the cops pulled me to the side and I got to tell my side of the story.

Guess who the cops believed?

While I was tending to my dog and checking for any wounds, I saw the cops handcuff the lady and forcefully shove her into their car because she was resisting arrest. She then threatened to sue me for harassment while screaming profanities.

No one sued me. My dog and I were fine, but she was whimpering all throughout that situation. She was definitely traumatized, but she’s doing well now.

I considered suing the lady for animal abuse, but then I found out that she was already in jail for insurance fraud and assault. I dont know about the insurance fraud part, but she apparently tried to push her coworker out of a window?

Anyway, I didn’t continue with the charges because she’s serving five years in jail now.

So Long, Buddy, And Thanks For Being A Buddy

, , , , | Related | November 15, 2022

CONTENT WARNING: Peaceful Animal Death

 

My brother is autistic and lives in a group home. When we were kids, we had a black lab mix named Buddy. [Brother] decided that he wanted another dog, and he wanted it to be a black lab mix, and he was going to name it Buddy, too. My mom heard there was a rescue with a therapy-certified dog named Jax, so my mom took [Brother] there to look at him.

In the very first kennel, there was a yellow dog. He saw my brother and just started going nuts. He started barking, jumping, and whining. The lady took him out of the kennel, and he started running around the room. He came up to my mom and my brother, waving his front leg in the air.

Rescuer: “He wants to shake.”

My brother was immediately taken with him.

Rescuer: “He’s a lab mix. His name is Butter, but we call him Butty for short.”

My brother thought this was a sign that they were meant to be.

The lady told them he was a last-minute death row rescue from the local shelter, but she swooped in and got him. It was decided that Butter, now called Buddy, wasn’t trained well enough to live in a group home, but he could come and live with us, and my brother could visit him.

He would later go on to star in such classics as this story and this story. He passed two days ago after being with us just shy of ten years at the age of eleven. He was the best dog and will be missed.

Related:
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Need To Treat Them Better

Bee Nice To The Bees

, , , , , , , , | Working | November 9, 2022

Our office rents space in a mall. One morning, we come into work to see a sign on our door saying, “I noticed a bumblebee got into your office. Please give the bee some sugar water and let the bee out,” signed [Employee] at [Store].

We take the challenge, scour the office, and eventually find the bee in question. We catch it in an upside-down water cooler cup with a business card underneath to trap it in. We tape it shut, and I am volunteered to leave the office on this beautiful day to find some flowers to release the bee next to.

It is a short walk to some flowers, and I let the bee go. Then, I return to the mall and go to [Store].

Me: “Is there a [Employee] here?”

Employee: “That’s me. Why?”

She seems afraid. Maybe I need to work on my tone of voice?

Me: “I just wanted to let you know that we found the bee and followed your instructions. Have a nice day!”

I then turned around and left, but I heard her making happy-sounding noises behind me as I left.

Google Is Free (Even Twenty Years Ago)

, , , , , , | Learning | November 9, 2022

I grew up in California, and we have a species of Condor called… wait for it… the California Condor! I was and still am an animal lover. In elementary school, I would read books about all kinds of snakes, lizards, vultures, and condors — basically, creatures that most little girls wanted nothing to do with. (To be fair, once I learned how spiders “ate” and then about “spider wasps”, I kind of noped the hell out of the insect/arachnid kingdoms.)

As a little girl with eclectic tastes, I spent my childhood perking up with a lot of interest upon hearing about how the California Condors had gone extinct in the wild and how conservationists were reintroducing them from captivity breeding programs. By the time I hit high school, I was ecstatic when condors began wheeling and circling in the skies around my hometown. For some odd reason, they really seemed to like our imported-long-ago eucalyptus trees.

Enter [Girl]. [Girl] went to the same school as I did, and we ended up butting heads off and on throughout my childhood. Now, for whatever reason, [Girl] believed that it was her life’s goal to out-knowledge the local animal lover. Unfortunately, [Girl]’s life’s goal coincided with absolute conviction that she was right about so very many — VERY, VERY many — wrong things.

Snakes are slimy — regardless of what the books say. All snakes are poisonous. There is no such thing as venom; that’s the incorrect and out-of-date term for poison. Constrictors are poisonous, too. Frogs and toads can give you warts — because the human papillomavirus (HPV) can be contracted from amphibians. Cows are animals, NOT mammals — because the two are mutually exclusive. Ants are NOT animals; they are insects — again, mutually exclusive.

And the crux of our story: the giant birds circling over our town were red-tailed hawks. As I watched our condor population soar (pun intended) from six to twenty-plus individuals over the years, [Girl] and I had several verbal altercations over the identity of our birds. This sums them all up.

Girl: “Oh, the hawks are back!”

Me: *Looking up* “Nope. Those are condors.”

Girl: “No, they’re hawks! Want to know how to tell the difference? The shape of their wings. The wing shape of those birds says they’re red-tailed hawks.”

Note: these birds were circling and coming down to land on our eucalyptus trees at a height of about three stories up in the air. They would land awkwardly, flaring their huge wings until they got their balance. Even from this distance, you could see that their heads were naked of feathers.

Me: “[Girl], these birds don’t have feathers on their heads. Their tails aren’t red. And their wingspan is huge.”

A condor’s wingspan is about 9.5 feet. A red-tailed hawk’s is 4.8 feet at most, y’all.

Girl: “Nope. You’re wrong. You just can’t see the red of their tails from below. This is one thing I know more about than you.”

Me: “No… No, you don’t, [Girl].”

Girl: “Yes, I do. The shape of their wings says hawk, so you’re wrong.”

She turned her back and walked away the instant I held a science book about animals anywhere near her. She wouldn’t even acknowledge anything that could possibly prove her wrong. On the plus side, this provided me with a very “cross versus vampires” way to make [Girl] shove off during my school years.

Twenty-two years later, [Girl] is a staunch anti-vaxxer. She found me after a twenty-year gap and spent far too much of the next two years yelling at me on social media to wake up, do my research, and stop injecting my body with autism before I blocked her. Yes, vaccines don’t GIVE you autism; the injections ARE autism. I just can’t even anymore.