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

There And Back Again: An I Don’t Work Here Tale

, , , , , , , , , , | Healthy | CREDIT: omgdoogface | November 26, 2022

About five years ago, my girlfriend was in the ICU of one of the largest hospitals in Sydney, Australia. It was a stressful time for me, but she’s all good now.

I was walking back from one of the hospital’s cafes to see my girlfriend when I was stopped in the corridor by a lady in her sixties.

Lady: *Politely* “Can you take me to the cardio ward?”

Me: “I don’t work here, but reception is that way, and I’m sure they can help you.”

Her Ladyship did not like this response.

Lady: “Don’t f*** around! I know you work here; take me there!”

Her sudden change in demeanour stunned me.

Lady: “Come along; I don’t have all day!”

I was wearing a full suit and tie combo as I had an unavoidable meeting later that day. Now, I like a navy suit as much as the next suave bloke, but the doctors in this hospital, when not in scrubs, mostly wore slacks and collared shirts.

Given the missus was a bit under the weather, I was sleep deprived, anxious, and had no patience for Her Ladyship being a jerk.

Me: “Okay, follow me.”

We started down the corridor, through some doors, and up a flight of stairs, her pacing grumpily behind me. I could see a sign ahead indicating that the cardio ward was to the right. So, unfortunately for Her Ladyship, left we went.

We went up lifts, down lifts, up stairs, and down again. A full ten minutes into our Royal Prince Alfred Hospital Tour, it must have occurred to her that I had no idea where I was going. A porter with a gurney stepped out of a side door and she immediately accosted him.

Lady: “Your staff member here is wasting my time!”

It was almost comedic the way he looked down at her, up at me, down at her, and then up at me. 

Porter: “Did you tell this lady you work here?”

Me: *Smiling* “No, mate, literally the opposite.”

The porter frowned.

Porter: “Where ya headed, luv?”

By now, she was quite exasperated.

Lady: “What is wrong with you people?! He should have taken me to the cardio ward. And don’t ‘luv’ me!”

The porter, trying to hide his smile, told her to follow him, and off they went. I overheard her grumble something about “staff complaint” as they left. Gosh only knows what my write-up would have said about me.

I hurried back to the ICU ward, happily armed with a humorous story to cheer up my girlfriend.

Seeing Red On Black Friday

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: PinkhairLiLi | November 25, 2022

Back in college, I lost my job due to my school schedule conflicting with the hours my boss demanded I should work. It was the holiday season, so I decided my best bet was to find a retailer that was looking for seasonal staff and look for another job in the meantime.

I ended up finding a very popular bath and body store in the mall that was hiring. It was just over the border into the states from Canada. For the first few weeks, everything was fine. I was getting the hang of it, I knew the products well, the discount was great, and I hadn’t had any real wild entitlement incidents… until Black Friday.

On Black Friday, I got scheduled for a twelve-hour register shift. It wasn’t the worst thing I could be doing for twelve hours. Most people were pretty pleasant and just excited to get holiday shopping underway. Cue this customer.

She immediately came up to the register with probably easily $400 in merchandise and slammed it down in front of me. I tried to remain pleasant and asked if she found everything okay and if she needed anything wrapped.

Me: “All right, so we’re looking to wrap all this up today?”

Customer: “Well, that’s your job, isn’t it? Am I supposed to wrap it myself?”

Me: “No, ma’am, but sometimes people put these into other gifts, so they don’t always want them wrapped. Are all the same scents going together and being wrapped? Or is there another way you’d like them separated?”

Customer: “Are you actually a r****d? Just wrap them!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on that just as soon as we complete the transaction. Your total today is [amount]. Will you be paying cash or card today?”

Customer: “Card! Did you put my discount in for coming from Canada?”

Me: “I’m sorry? We don’t offer a discount for Canadian shoppers. I do apologize.”


Me: “Let me call over my manager and confirm that I didn’t make a mistake. Give me one moment.

I called over my headset, and the manager told me that had NEVER been a thing.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I spoke to my manager, and we have not ever nor are we currently offering a discount for Canadian shoppers. I do apologize for the confusion there.”


Me: “Okay, ma’am, just go ahead and slide your card for me, and then we’ll get this all wrapped up.”

The card declined.

Me: *Speaking quietly* “I’m sorry, ma’am, do you have another form of payment? It says this card was declined.”


Me: *Speaking very loudly* “Your card declined. Do you have another form of payment?”


The woman then proceeded to pick up a lotion bottle (one of the glass spa ones) and whip it at my head. That one got her escorted out of the mall and banned by security. I, on the other hand, was fine. I took off my apron and walked out. The money was soooooo not worth it.

Here’s your gentle reminder not to be a jerk to retail workers this holiday season.

The Luck Of The Irish And The Entitlement Of Relatives

, , , , , , | Related | CREDIT: Artilleryman08 | November 25, 2022

I love Ireland. My grandmother told me stories and inspired pride and love for my heritage, and she taught me how to properly represent myself. I am NOT Irish, but my ancestors were.

Years ago, I started studying Gaelige, the Irish language. I’m still very novice at speaking and understanding it, but I enjoy trying to learn and like hearing it spoken. Around that time, one of my cousins contacted me. We’d never had much contact because we grew up so far apart, but I liked him well enough. He had started learning Gaelige and was interested in having someone to practice with. So, we helped each other and learned together. It’s a difficult language, and like I said, I’m still very novice.

I started planning a trip to Ireland. I had been a few times, but this time I wanted to stay in the Gaeltacht, the regions of Ireland where Gaelige is primarily spoken instead of English. The people there speak English but as a second language. I thought [Cousin] would enjoy the trip, as well.

I spoke with my uncle and we made a deal. Since [Cousin] was in his first year of college, I told him that if he finished his freshman year with at least a 3.5 GPA, I would pay for him to go with me. He worked really hard and was taking mostly honors classes, and he came out with a 3.4. Of course, I let him feel a little grief about trying so hard only to come up short, and then I told him he was still going with me. You could say I shouldn’t have, but he genuinely worked very hard and I believe he earned it; plus, he is a good kid, and I want to encourage him to keep working hard in his education.

Now for a little background on my cousin’s parents. [Aunt] and [Uncle] are people of limited means. I’m not speaking poorly of them; [Uncle] works hard to give them a comfortable life. [Aunt] is my dad’s sister, and the grandmother I mentioned earlier is their mom. [Uncle] is the son of Italian immigrants.

While trying to put [Cousin] through school, they couldn’t afford to send him on vacation, but I assured them that the whole trip was on me. I actually was splurging a bit because I wanted it to be an awesome experience for [Cousin]. I got business class seats for the flight and booked two rooms at a really nice bed and breakfast. I was excited, but [Cousin] was so pumped that he was shaking.

Then, [Uncle] called me.

Uncle: “Is there any chance you could include [Aunt] and me on the trip? I understand that this is a huge thing to ask, and there is absolutely no pressure.”

I thought about it a bit and decided I would bring them along. My grandmother would have praised the generosity. I told him that, since it was so close to the trip, I could only get them economy seats. [Uncle] said it was fine. I also managed to book another room at the B&B. I stressed that the purpose of this trip was for [Cousin] and me to interact with native Gaelige speakers, but there would be time for some sightseeing. We could also visit the town our ancestors came from in County Mayo.

This is where I learned what an entitled jerk my aunt is.

It started at the airport. I had managed to upgrade their tickets to economy plus which, on an international flight, is not too bad.

Aunt: “You and [Cousin] should sit in economy while the grown-ups get the nice seats!”

I was thirty at the time; my cousin was nineteen. My uncle looked embarrassed. [Aunt] told [Cousin] to give her his ticket and he almost did. I had to nip this in the bud.

Me: “I paid for all of these seats, so I will determine who sits where. Those are still nice seats. Enjoy your flight.”

Aunt: “Oh, so, since you paid for everything you think you’re in charge?”

Me: “Yes, and if you don’t like it, you can go home.”

She huffed but stayed silent. [Uncle] gave me a wink, and [Cousin] apologized for his mom’s behavior. At one point he quietly said to himself, “She always does this.” Great.

We arrived in Ireland and took a cab to our B&B. The first two days were great. [Cousin] and I went out and tried to awkwardly converse with the locals, who were as gracious as you could wish for and helped us a lot. We mostly did stuff separately from [Aunt] and [Uncle], which was fine, but I noticed that [Aunt] was getting a little edgy, and on our fourth morning, at breakfast, she snapped.

One of the girls working at the B&B brought them their breakfast and apparently greeted them in Gaelige, like she did every morning. This was the point when everyone there began to hear [Aunt] screaming.


Before I could appreciate that my aunt had actually said, “It’s like being in a foreign country,” I was out the door and running across the yard. I apologized to the poor girl and gave her a 50€ note, and then I went to talk to my aunt.

Me: “Do you not understand what I told you about this part of Ireland? I thought I explained that Irish Gaelige is the primary language spoken here. Most people will start interactions in Irish, and it is a big part of the B&B’s business, too.”

She just went and sat in her room looking huffy, and [Uncle] told me he’d handle it. He had fallen in love with Ireland and had been thoroughly enjoying the trip, so I let him deal with it. Then, I went to talk to the landlady to ensure we wouldn’t be thrown out. She didn’t tolerate mistreatment of her staff, but she said if it happened again, they would have to leave.

That day, I had rented a car and would be driving out to where my ancestors originally lived near Castlebar. I invited [Aunt] and [Uncle], but [Aunt] just stayed in the room, so the three of us went without her. It was an emotional thing visiting the little village, and I can’t describe it, but [Cousin] and I both felt like we could feel the spirits of our ancestors there. I know it’s corny, but it was powerful. We found the graves of some of them, as well. [Uncle] was mostly silent and respectfully let us experience it. Later, he told us about his parents leaving Italy.

The rest of the trip was pretty quiet, but [Aunt] never left the room or spoke to anyone there. Although, she did charge a pretty expensive lunch to the room — on my card — through a local high-class restaurant. [Uncle] offered to pay me back for it, but I refused.

We flew back, and for the whole flight, [Cousin] was going on and on about how amazing it was. It was clear that he had found a new love for international travel.

Me: “If you keep your grades up, maybe we can go again next summer!”

It became a regular trip for us — we never again brought the parents — except for his final year at school. I was not going to have the time off to go, but thought I would mix it up. For a graduation gift, I sent [Cousin] and [Uncle] to Italy to see where that part of his family was from. I intentionally left out [Aunt]. If she was upset about it, she never told me, though I heard she was “deeply insulted”.

Of All Days, Today Is NOT The Day To Try Me

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: DanceDangerous7950 | November 25, 2022

When it’s a slow, usual day in retail, I usually don’t care how people talk back to me. I just want them out of the store ASAP. Black Friday is a different issue. The store has two lines: one that nearly reaches the entrance and another that has to loop around near the changing rooms.

I am one of the assigned register people, and I’m doing my thing next to my coworker who is also doing her thing. We are helping out both lines the best we could.

While I’m checking out a lady’s piles of sweaters and coats, asking her the usual questions, I keep hearing this woman behind her complaining about the wait. I don’t make out details, but it’s a lot of huffing, and every time I glance at her, she is rolling her eyes.

Finally, I print out the first customer’s receipt and thank her for her patience. Now, I have to deal with this impatient woman.

She walks up to the counter, slams her two T-shirts down, and says:

Customer: “Did you really have to take that long? I want a faster checkout.”

Me: “I’m going as fast as I can.”

Customer: “Well, do better.

I’m not kidding. She says that. On Black Friday.

And I lose it.

Me: Get out of my line.”

Customer: “What?!”

Me: *Pointing to my coworker* “She will be more than happy to help you when it’s your turn after everyone else—”

My coworker’s line is almost at the entrance.

Me: “—but get out of my line.”

I stared her down so that she knew I wasn’t kidding until she threw her hands up in the air and stormed out of the store.

Was I in the right? Nope. Not even a little. But it felt so good, especially since my manager didn’t go after me for it and understood.

Tell Us Where This Hotel Is So We Can Never, Ever Stay There

, , , , , | Legal | CREDIT: BecentiComposer | November 24, 2022

I work in a hotel. A week or so ago, a newly hired housekeeper found a .357 Magnum with the hammer cocked in one of the rooms and freaked out. She called the head housekeeper, who grabbed it without gloves (she got in trouble for that) and took it to the office. The police were called and they took it away.

Our hotel is a budget hotel and used to be a lot worse where violence, drugs, sex work, and crime in general are concerned. Our new management has been cracking down on that and issuing Do-Not-Rents as necessary — a lot, sadly. The last gun violence that occurred here was two years ago when a murder fugitive had a shootout with police and died. Since then, we’ve had the occasional high-strung guest point a gun at staff, but nothing beyond that.

Today, a young guy with multiple facial tattoos walks in. There is a ton of cursing on his side but I’m not going to type that all out; it’s in nearly every sentence.

Guy: “I stayed in room last week, and I forgot my gun. I need it back.”

Me: “Okay. Can I have your ID, please?”

I know the room wasn’t registered to him; it was registered to a single female with no other guests listed.

Guy: “Why? I just need my gun back.”

Me: “I need to verify your identity before I can give out information for your room, sir, for security purposes.”

Guy: “What?! That’s stupid. I forgot my gun. I told you it was there, and I know you have it. No one else asked you for a gun, just me, so why do I need an ID?”

Me: “Again, sir, it’s for security purposes and the safety of our guests. I am not allowed to release private information to anyone other than the registered guests. I am not going to violate that policy, especially where firearms are concerned. If you cannot produce a valid ID, I cannot release any information. I’m sorry.”

Guy: “I know you have my gun, and you’re not going to give it to me. That’s stealing! I’m going to stand here until you give me back my property.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t allow loitering.”

Guy: “I’m not loitering! You’re not giving me my stuff!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police and have them escort you off the property.”

Guy: “Then call them! I don’t care!”

So, I called them, and they arrived fairly quickly. After forty-five minutes or so, they arrested him and took him away. I’m guessing he either had a warrant or was a felon in possession of a firearm. I’m not sure why it took so long to identify him, though.