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A collection of stories curated from different subreddits, adapted for NAR.

We Feel Like We Went On This Journey With You, Author

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: TheDogeKing1 | September 9, 2021

I’m seventeen, and it’s my fourth day working at my first job as a delivery driver at a pizza place. I get sent on an order at around 6:30 pm. It’s at the childcare center at our local community college, about fifteen minutes away, which is a first for me to deliver to.

I get there around 6:45, and I notice that both front entrances are closed. I get to the back, and it’s also closed with no way to get in. I call the customer so I can ask how she’d like me to get to her; there’s fencing all around the college so I can’t walk around the gates blocking the road. She doesn’t answer, so I call my boss.

Boss: “Did you try the front entrances?”

Me: “Yes, but they’re blocked off, too.”

Boss: “Did you try calling the customer?”

Me: “Yes, no answer.”

Boss: “I’ll try calling her and then I’ll call you back.”

I drive around to the front of the school, and I find a parking lot across the street, which I park in. I look around and I see a thin path for me to walk through. My boss calls me back.

Boss: “I tried the customer four times but got no answer.”

Me: “I found a path to get in.”

Boss: “Okay. Shoot me a text when you’ve got the food delivered.”

By now, it’s around 7:00. I start walking over to the childcare center, and I realize all the lights are off. I think that’s odd but continue working my way over there. I get there, ring the doorbell, and knock on the door, but no one answers. My boss told me earlier they may be in between two other buildings on campus. I go over and check those out. No one. In these two buildings, no one is there, though the lights are on. I try knocking on multiple doors and ringing the doorbells, and I even call the woman again. No one answers the phone or the doorbells.

At about 7:20, after walking around half the campus, I call my boss again.

Boss: “Just bring the food back. We’ll leave a message for her saying she has to come and pick the food up since you couldn’t find her.”

I got back to the store around 7:40. Right after I got back, the woman finally called the store back, and we found out she’d put the address in wrong. She forgot to put the address in the app she ordered through, so it automatically sent the address as her last order’s location. My boss sent me back out, saying she’d probably tip well, since I’d been out for more than an hour trying to deliver to her.

I drove about five minutes away to her house and gave her her food. No tip.

I got back to the shop at about 8:00, and my boss asked how much I was tipped, and I said none. He was just in awe, as were the cashiers. I could’ve made at least three deliveries in that time and at least ten dollars in tips.

Not A Moving Tale, But A Satisfying One

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: CHAINSMOKERMAGIC | September 8, 2021

I work as a mover for a very small moving company. My boss is a really nice guy. It’s really just a two-man operation, with me working as a subcontractor under him with a few regular guys we call in for bigger moves. It’s really physically demanding work sometimes, but typically our customers are super nice, and the pay is pretty good. Most people are just happy to have someone else lift their heavy stuff and get it into a truck. And we’re always super careful to not cause ANY DAMAGE to the buildings we’re moving in and out of or the items we’re moving, which most people appreciate.

Not this lady.

[Customer] booked a move with [Boss] and told him she had a small storage unit she wanted us to load up into a twenty-foot truck. We said, “No problem!” As the date of her move approached, though, so did a huge snowstorm.

Days before her move, the news started reporting that the weather was expected to take a severe turn for the worst. It’s not uncommon for the time of year in our state, but also something not to be trifled with.

We called [Customer] a couple of days before the move to see about rescheduling to avoid the storm and she said she absolutely HAD to move that day; no other days would work. A lot of (probably much smarter) movers would have cancelled, but after talking, [Boss] and I thought it was no big deal. We move in the snow all the time. It just meant we would have to dress appropriately and be extra careful not to injure ourselves or damage any property.

Cut to the day of the move. We headed to [Customer]’s storage unit, expecting a ten-by-ten-by-fifteen standard storage unit full of your usual stuff based on what she’d indicated on the phone, and ready to load it into a twenty-foot truck. That’s a pretty easy job to get done in the two hours that she had already prepaid for.

As we pulled up, the snow was already coming down pretty heavily, and the first thing that made us nervous was the truck. Instead of a twenty-foot truck, there was a HUGE twenty-six-foot truck. [Customer] greeted us by the truck and showed us the storage unit.

Customer: “Okay! This is our unit. We shut down our businesses, and I’m moving it out of town to pursue other opportunities. I need all of this loaded up in two hours. The last movers I had got it unloaded in about that long.”

[Boss] said something about the truck being bigger than she told us.

Customer: “Yeah, it’s the biggest one [Rental Company] had. Last time, we used another company and it was much bigger. I’m worried about getting it all, but you guys will have to figure it out. I need all of it.”

This was a HUGE storage unit, like the kind you’d store a few cars or some farm equipment in. When we opened it up, it was filled with what appeared to be the contents of a couple of pretty decently sized businesses: a dozen of those huge floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets, several desks, office chairs, some really huge glass tables, etc. And all of it was INCREDIBLY heavy.

Our company safety guidelines for weight limits are 100 pounds per person lifting an item, but there’s no real practical way to enforce that in the field, so we usually wind up using our best judgment, even if the item is over that limit. Nearly everything there was over limit, but we had our equipment, and we were pretty confident we could handle everything, weight-wise. [Boss] and I are both pretty strong. But in my estimation, this was definitely going to take a bit longer than two hours.

[Boss] told her that we would do our absolute best. To be fair, he should have leveled with her then and there that it would take a bit more time, but he probably wanted to see if we could just get it busted out as quick as possible and see where we were at before getting the customer needlessly worried.

The customer sat in her truck nearly the whole time we were working so she could stay warm. That’s perfectly understandable since it was -2°F outside and the snow was coming down pretty hard. But she’d occasionally roll down her window to offer up critiques, mostly about how much time we were taking going up and down the metal ramp of the truck, which was now COVERED in ice and snow.

About an hour and some change into the move, [Customer] got out of her truck and started chatting with [Boss] about her previous movers and how they did cause some damage to her stuff, but they were SO fast. It was weird. She went back and forth between complaining about them and praising them for their speed. And she kept referring to them as the “professional moving service I hired,” which really bugged me, because the way she said it seemed to be implying that because we aren’t a big national company, then somehow [Boss] and I aren’t professional movers, despite the fact that this is literally our full-time job.

By the point, we were far enough into this move that we could tell this was going to run long. [Boss] decided it’s a good idea to let her know that it was probably going to take a half-hour or so longer than expected, which was still a feat, considering how much there was to move and how well-packed this truck was. I pride myself on playing a mean game of Truck Tetris.

[Customer] was NOT having this. She started to get upset and started saying we were just trying to get more money out of her and that we were “Dilly Dallying.” Yes, those words actually left the mouth of a grown woman.

Customer: “The professional movers got this same stuff unloaded in two hours, so it should take the same time to load it!”

Boss: “Unloading always takes less time than loading, because you’re moving it into a bigger space, and you don’t have to pack and pad the stuff to fit into a truck.”

Me: “There’s literally a blizzard coming down, and we’re only going to go over by a little.”

She got quiet and seething. My boss could tell how angry she was and let her know we wouldn’t charge her for any extra time since it wasn’t her fault the weather was crappy. He also brought up that the other company had damaged her stuff, and we’d done a pretty good job.

Customer: “I don’t care! YOU SAID TWO HOURS, AND I EXPECT IT DONE! JUST GET IT DONE! I’m going to leave you guys a terrible review!”

She stomped back to her truck without saying a word.

I’m usually pretty chill, but I was already getting increasingly mad at this woman. Her yelling at my boss and calling us lazy when we were risking our health and safety to move her stuff in a blizzard was just too much for me.

[Boss] thought about this for a moment. I know customer reviews are super important to us as a small business. The booking site we use highlights the last handful of reviews, so a bad one takes FOREVER to stop showing up as basically the first thing people see when they click on your page. I was expecting my boss to try and keep her happy, but instead, he just grinned and turned to me.

Boss: “F*** it. You heard her!”

She wanted it all loaded in two hours? That’s exactly what we’d do.

The front half of her truck was loaded up neatly, with everything padded and stacked tightly, floor-to-ceiling, to keep it from moving on the road. The second half of her truck was the worst, jankiest truck I’ve ever loaded in my life. We’re talking huge heavy office furniture haphazardly stacked on top of each other at the weirdest angles, heavy stuff on top of light stuff, anything to just get the storage unit empty and the truck door closed. We even stacked REALLY heavy office chairs on top of glass tabletops. By the end of it, the truck looked like we’d asked Escher or Geiger to draw us a picture of an office.

I just want to be clear; we’ve never intentionally damaged a customer’s property, and we never would. We pride ourselves on our professionalism, courtesy, and specifically our ability to get your stuff where it’s going safely. But the particular combination of unsafe conditions and this lady’s outright disregard for our safety and feelings was just too much. And technically, we didn’t damage anything. Nothing was broken when we closed the truck doors. But literally the first bump in the road or decently tight turn was going to cause hundreds, maybe even thousands of dollars in damage.

We closed the truck door and walked over to the customer’s truck.

Boss: “We’re done, and I’m not going to charge you at all for the move.”

Customer: “I’m not poor and I don’t need charity!”

Boss: “It’s clear that you’re not happy, and we don’t need your $150.”

That’s right, we charge $75 an hour, so the extra half-hour we needed to do it right would have cost her a whopping $37.

He cancelled the job and refunded her what she’d already prepaid. As we drove away in my boss’s car, I looked at him.

Me: “You realize that by the time she gets where she’s going, she’s looking at a lot of damaged furniture, right? She’s going to hit us with a bad review and maybe even try to sue.”

Boss: “She was worried about paying an extra $37. I doubt she’ll risk more money on hiring a lawyer. And besides, you can’t leave a review on the site if the job gets cancelled. We just gave her exactly what she wanted. It’s worth losing out on the money I would have made just to see her face when I said I didn’t need her $150.”

When he dropped me off, he still paid me for my time because “F*** that lady”.

Humility Will Take You To New Heights

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Mike_OxonFaier | September 8, 2021

My friend’s mum is a customs officer in a large British international airport. Customs officers are the ones who check your bags for prohibited items and things you need to pay import tax on.

A few years ago, she was on duty when a famous singer came through customs. She stopped him. No special allowance is given to famous people, and some of them get caught with drugs.

Singer: “Do you know who I am?”

My friend’s mum actually did know.

Mum: “No. I don’t. Do you know who I am?”

The singer was stumped by this question, and his confusion showed on his face.

Mum: “I am the officer who will arrest you if you don’t cooperate.”

The singer wisely chose to cooperate.

Great Babbling Babblu!

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Cintanyervadasz | September 7, 2021

I was a university student working in a liquor store. We had many tourists come to buy Scotch of all types and prices.

One evening, an entourage of older tourists dropped in. One of them started yelling at us.

Customer: “Babblu! I need Babblu!”

There is no whisky named Babblu; however, we’re used to this, so my colleague and I showed the gentleman our selection of Balblair and asked which he’d like, explaining to him the different varieties and how they’re going to be the last generation of “year” statements, and so on.

My colleague and I are both young and female, which didn’t appeal to this guy. He stuck his nose up, alluding that we didn’t know as much as he did — false; combined, we know a lot — and even called himself a “whisky connoisseur.” He chose based on the price — the lowest — and wanted three. It came to about £112 which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t that much.

I asked whether he wanted a bag. He gruffed and refused, so I rung him up for the three whiskies, gave him the receipt, signed some tax forms, and thanked him.

He didn’t leave.

Customer: “Give me a bag.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, sir. You said you didn’t need one! It’s an extra 5p, but you can just put it in our charity box.”

Customer: “5p? You mean I’ve just come all the way from [Town] and bought hundreds of pounds of whisky, and you want me to pay 5p for a plastic bag?”

Me: “Yes, it’s the law here. If we don’t abide by the law, then our license could get revoked. It all goes to charity; we’ve chosen WaterAid so that people from the most deprived countries can get access to water.”

Customer: “But that’s disgraceful. I can’t believe you’re going to charge me 5p. I won’t stand for it! This is awful!”

Colleague: “It’s the law. Think about the future; plastic bag waste has gone down 80% since the price was introduced and the money all goes to charity.”

The old man LOST HIS MIND and screamed at us.

Customer: “Charity?! I’m a charity!”

He and his entourage stormed out, carrying the heavy weight of three Babblu whiskies between the three of them. I have since referred to Balblair as Babblu in his honour.

Oh, Brother (Literally)

, , , , , | Friendly | CREDIT: AgniBlackheart | September 7, 2021

I’m adopted and dark-skinned while the rest of my family is entirely composed of white people, both from my mom’s and my dad’s side.

I’m twenty-four and my little sister is fifteen. We go to the supermarket together to buy some stuff for home. Whenever we walk together, we’re often met with stares. Maybe people think that we’re dating or something, I don’t know.

We wait in line ahead of a lady who keeps complaining about the weather, and then we go inside the store. As we’re grabbing spices, we can’t find what my mom wants. My sister wants to buy the same spice but from another brand, while I want to call Mom and see if she wanted it or not. So, we catch ourselves in a small argument, going back and forth about what should we do.

My sister says something about me being “pathetic and indecisive” and makes some motions as if to shoo me away. And then, the lady from the line decides to jump in.

Lady: “Stop! Get away from this young lady and don’t harass her!”

Me: “Um, what? Can I help you, ma’am?”

Lady: “I saw you trying to harass this girl! Ever since the line, I knew you were up to something!”

Sister: “Lady, this guy’s my brother. He’s not harassing me or anything—”

Lady: “Don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t let this guy steal from you or sexually harass you. We both know guys like him always do that sort of stuff.”

And she starts pulling the “racial card” on me. As much as I could get offended, losing my time with this lady is not optimal.

Me: “Ma’am, this girl is my younger sister. We came here together.”

Lady: “Don’t you dare try to lie your way out of this! You’re not siblings; that’s impossible!”

Sister: “Lady, he’s my brother! Who are you to say who he is or isn’t to me?!”

Me: “Please mind your own business and leave us alone. I didn’t do anything.”

Lady: “Hmph. We’ll see about that.”

She leaves in a hurry and we think it’s over. I start to call Mom to talk about the spices. Then, this lady comes back with a manager.

Lady: “There he is! He’s harassing that young lady and forcing her to call him her brother.”

Manager: “Young lady, is this true?”

Sister: “No! He’s literally my brother! We came here to buy some stuff and this lady’s harassing us!”

Lady: “That’s a lie! You’re too different to be siblings. I don’t believe in this garbage.”

Manager: “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave if you keep harassing this young lady.”

Me: “Well, I’d gladly do it, sir. But I can prove we’re siblings.”

Lady: “He’s bluffing! He can’t do that at all.”

Me: “Then please check out our IDs and you’ll see if I really am.”

We both give our IDs to the manager who starts to check out our names and the other information, such as our affiliation to our parents. The lady also tries to check along with the manager.

Manager: “After checking them, your surnames and affiliation are the same. I’m sorry for the disturbance we’ve caused.”

Me: “It’s nothing, sir. If anything, that woman is at fault for causing this scene.”

Lady: “I— I just made a tiny mistake. No hard feelings to be held.”

Sister: “Well, aside from the fact that you’re a racist old hag that doesn’t have anything better to do, sure.”

Lady: “What?! And here I thought you were a lady, you little ungrateful—”

Me: “Lady, turn away and don’t finish that sentence unless you wish to be sued in court for racism.”

Lady: “Fine! I was done here, anyway.”

And then she left in a hurry. The manager apologized again and then left, too.