History Is Never Old News

| Right | June 17, 2013

(I am working in the print department of an office-supply store. An older customer comes in with a folder of very old newspaper articles.)

Customer: “Hello, young lady. I was just wondering if you could make some copies of these articles for me. They are getting old and I would like to preserve them.”

Me: “Of course!”

Customer: “Thank you very much. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go look around while you do this.”

(I agree, and he hands me the articles. I can see that it is an article about a man who was killed during World War Two. In one of the articles, it shows a picture of the deceased man holding a baby. As the customer has requested, I make copies of the articles that are beginning to fray, rip, and yellow. After making the copies, I quickly laminate them in order to keep them really preserved. The customer comes back.)

Me: “So you know, sir, I noticed that the articles you had were starting to rip, and I assumed that was why you were making the copies. When I finished the copies, I laminated them for you.”

Customer: “I appreciate that young lady, but I can’t afford the lamination.”

Me: “I like history, and I think historical documents are very important to keep. The lamination is free of charge!”

(The customer begins to cry.)

Me: “Sir, are you alright?”

Customer: “Yes, yes. Do you see this baby in this picture? This was me when I was just a few days old. This was the only time my father ever held me before he died. This is all I have to remember him by, and you just helped me to keep them preserved so I can keep his memory alive. Miss, please… can I give you a hug?”

Me: “Of course!”

(He gives me the warmest hug I have ever experienced.)

Customer: “Thank you, miss. You have no idea how happy you just made an old man.”

(I am also crying, due to the joy I gave this customer by taking two seconds to laminate his articles. After pulling away from him, I notice that my manager is also beginning to cry.)

Manager: “Sir, these copies are on the store. Have a nice day, and come see us if you ever need anything else.”

(The customer leaves with a huge smile on his face, and my manager and I are both cheery for the rest of the day. When I arrive at work the next day, I find a small bouquet of flowers sitting on my desk with a note from the customer.)

Note From The Customer: “I picked these flowers for you from my garden. They aren’t much, but I was hoping I could brighten your day as much as you brightened mine.”

(I still have that note, along with one of the flowers that I kept and pressed in a scrap book. I will never forget that man, and the father he never knew.)

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I’ve Got Twenty Assumptions In My Pocket

| Working | June 17, 2013

(My family is not quite at the poverty line but as close as you can get without being able to qualify for any financial help. As such, we keep money tight, and I buy almost all my clothes from a nearby thrift shop. Note: Macklemore’s “Thrift Shop” song has recently come out.)

Me: “Excuse me, but where are the women’s shirts? I think they got moved.”

Cashier: “Look kid, you’re not going to be popular for wearing s*** from a thrift shop. You just look homeless. Go back to [expensive store].”

Me: “No, I come here all the time. I can’t afford [expensive store], and never have. Where are the women’s shirts?”

Cashier: “Kid, I have never seen you before. Just look up on your fancy little iPhone sixty-whatever and find the nearest [expensive store].”

Me: “You’re assuming I have an iPhone?”

Cashier: “Fine, off-brand or maybe 4, whatever. Just stop pretending that you’re gonna be cool for wearing old clothes.”

Me: “Get me your manager.”

Cashier: “Pfft, why should I? So you can make some sob story and get cheap-a** clothes for free so you can still buy your [expensive store] brand shoes?”

Me: “Manager. Now.”

(Reluctantly, the cashier gets the manager.)

Manager: “What’s the problem, [cashier]? Oh, [my name], nice to see you.”

Me: “I asked where the women’s shirts got moved to and [cashier] just told me off, rudely, to go to [expensive store] because I’m not going to be cool in thrift shop clothes.”

Cashier: “It’s true though! That “Thrift Shop” song is total BS. All we ever get now are teens buying clothes to look cool, and it doesn’t work!”

Manager: “[Cashier], this is [my name], and her family comes here all the time. It’s the only clothes they can afford. Sometimes they can’t even afford it. She doesn’t care about being cool. I don’t think she’s ever even *been* in [expensive store]. Go in back and wait for me.”

Cashier: *leaves*

Manager: “This is the third time this week I’ve gotten a complaint about him. The women’s shirts are over in the corner that way…”

(When I came back next week for shoes for my brother, the cashier had been fired.)

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Intelligence Is At An All Time Depression

| Right | June 16, 2013

(We have a lot of customers who come into our antique store looking for something for someone else as a gift; however they often have no clue what they are looking for. Just ‘that thing their friend collects’.)

Customer: “What is the name of that red glass?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but can you be any more descriptive?”

Customer: “You know, that red glassware that people collect.”

Me: “Um, ruby flash?”

Customer: “No, no, no. It’s old, and collectible!”

Me: “Is the glass itself dyed red, or is it painted red? Or is it a different base color with red designs?”

Customer: “It’s red. Or pink.”

Me: “Cape Code? Currier and Ives? Vaseline? Murano? I…I really need more information before I can help you.”

Customer: “It’s the name of all the glass! I don’t collect it! My friend does! I want to get her some!”

Me: *trying one more time* “Depression?”

Customer: “DEPRESSION! THANK YOU!”

(The customer walks away without even asking me where it is in the store.)

Coworker: “Um… depression glass means any cheap translucent glass that was made during the Great Depression. It comes in almost any color you can think of, not just red and pink.”

Me: “You want to go explain that to her?”

Coworker: “Nope.”

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Just Plain Batty, Part 2

| Working | June 16, 2013

(I have a quite and well-behaved Chihuahua that is a medical alert service dog. I’ve been talking to a sales associate for at least fifteen minutes, and she hasn’t said a word about my service dog. Suddenly…)

Sales Associate: “So the thing that you want to keep in mind is—OH MY GOD, IT’S A BAT!”

Me: “What?! Where?” *looking around in surprise*

Sales Associate: “THERE! THERE! IT’S A BAT!”

(The sales associate is completely hysterical, shrieking and pointing. It takes me a moment to realize she’s pointing at my service dog.)

Me: “…Ma’am, that’s my service dog.”

Sales Associate: “IT’S A BAT!”

Me: “He’s my service dog. He’s a Chihuahua. ”

(The sales associate stops screaming and stares at my service dog for a few moments.)

Sales Associate: “So, the thing that you want to remember is…” *goes on about the product as if nothing happened*

 

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Color Me Stupid

| Related | June 14, 2013

(My mum and dad are in a home improvement store, looking at paint colours.)

Dad: “I like this one! What’s it called?”

(Dad picks up the tin and reads off the label.)

Dad: “‘Wise Precautions’? That’s a strange name for a paint.”

Mum: “Keep reading…”

Dad: “Wise Precautions: To avoid the risk of spillage always store and transport in a secure upright position. Oh…”

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