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Being Understanding Costs No Cash

, , , , | Right | October 20, 2021

I pull into my favorite fast food drive-thru for breakfast and place my order at the box.

Employee: “Our credit card reader is currently down and we’re only accepting cash payments. Is that something you can do?”

I agree, and we confirm my order. As I’m watching, the two cars in front of me both try to give their credit cards. Then, a car pulls in behind me and then leaves. As a long-time reader of NAR, I can only imagine what the employee is dealing with, so when I go to pay:

Me: “Please, keep the change! I’m sure you’re going to be dealing with a lot of angry people this morning, so you deserve a tip!”

She brought me my drinks and gave me a free upgrade from the large to an extra-large! I wish that young lady the best because, as I was pulling away, another person was flipping her off at the window. It pays to be nice and understanding!

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Helicopter Parents: Ultra Mode

, , , , , | Related | October 20, 2021

I am nineteen and have moved out of my parent’s house.

Me: “It was super late and we wanted to go home anyway.”

Dad: “Super late, huh?”

Me: “It was almost 2:00 am.”

Dad: *Suddenly irate* “WHAT?! You have no business being out that late! What were you even doing?”

Me: “We went to see the midnight release of a movie after work—”

Dad: *To Mom* “What are we going to do about this?”

Me: “Wait, what?”

Mom: “Well, obviously you broke curfew, so—”

Me: “Wait, hold up. Aren’t you two forgetting something? I don’t live here anymore.”

Dad: “You’re our daughter! You have no business being out and about at 2:00 am!”

Me: “I’m an adult that doesn’t live here or even rely on you financially. I have a job, I have a place on my own, and I pay my own bills. What I do with my time is literally none of your business.”

Mom: “You’re just a teenager! You need to listen to us!”

Dad: “As long as you live under our roof—”

Me: “I don’t, though. I have my own roof where I make my own rules. So you’re going to… do what, exactly?”

Dad: “Give me your keys.”

Me: “My car keys? The keys to the car I bought myself, that’s in my name? I don’t think so.”

Mom: “You broke the rules!”

Me: “Those rules stopped applying to me the minute I moved out. I’m leaving now.”

Dad: “You disrespectful little— Don’t you walk away from me!”

They still insisted I “broke curfew” as an adult and tried to demand that I either hand over my car keys or accept the grounding. I went home, instead. Somehow, they were shocked when I moved hundreds of miles away six months later.

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When The Mother And The Manager Deserve Each Other

, , , , | Right | October 20, 2021

I work in an indoor amusement park at a little hut on the way into our mini-golf course. We sell merchandise from the hut with the park’s name on it.

The park has a three-write-up system for employees; get written up three times and you’re fired. I’m a good employee who always works hard, but my boss hates me for reasons I’ve never known, and at this point in the summer, he’s already written me up twice.

A middle-aged woman runs in, absolutely frantic.

Guest: *Yelling* “You need to give me a shirt!”

Me: “Uh, well, we have T-shirts on that wall there, and sweatshirts—”

Guest: “No, I’m not buying a shirt. Your park owes me a shirt, and you’re going to give it to me!”

Me: “What?”

Guest: “The idiots in the food court didn’t put the lid on my son’s soda tight enough, and now he’s spilled it all over his shirt, so you need to give me a new one!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that happened, but I can’t give away merchandise. Tell you what. Let me radio for a manager, and we’ll see if there’s anything he can do.”

I pick up the walkie-talkie and call for [Boss]. No answer. I call for him again. Nothing. Meanwhile, the guest is becoming more and more irate, tapping her foot, and making huffing noises.

Guest: “My son is just standing there in the food court, dripping wet!”

Me: *Into my walkie-talkie* “[Boss], please come to mini-golf! Or if anyone sees [Boss], can you please tell him to come to mini-golf?

Again, silence.

Guest: “This is ridiculous! I’m taking this!”

She grabs a shirt from the wall and runs out of the booth.

Boss: *On the walkie-talkie* “This is [Boss]; go ahead.”

I quickly explain to [Boss] on the walkie-talkie what has happened, and I tell him that if he can meet me at the food court, I’ll point out the customer to him. [Boss] and I arrive at the food court at the same time and he’s carrying another shirt. I point the guest out and immediately see why the problem started: loose lid or not, this woman bought a thirty-two-ounce soda for a kid who could not be older than four. Of course, it spilled!

Boss: “Ma’am, I heard what happened, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let you keep that shirt. However, we happen to have another shirt leftover from a corporate event, and if you want, I can give you that shirt, instead.”

He holds out the T-shirt he’s carrying, and at first, this sounds like a pretty good solution, until he unfurls it and we see that it’s an adult extra-large. This makes her FURIOUS.


Boss: “Well, I know it’ll look a little silly, but if he tucks it into his shorts—”


With this, she pulls the park shirt off of her son, throws it at me, and replaces it with the extra-large.

Boy: “Mommy, it’s too big.”

Guest: “I know it’s too big! I know, but that’s what this man wants you to wear!” *Turns to [Boss]* “And you know what? If we were to go running in the park, and if he were to trip and, I don’t know, smack his little head—”

I swear to you, when she said, “smack his little head,” she actually smacked her son on the forehead!

Guest: “—then we would have to sue the park for giving him this shirt!”

She turns back to her son.

Guest: “Come on, let’s go! Let’s go running! You want to go climb on the jungle gym? Let’s go climb on the jungle gym!”

She runs off with [Son], leaving behind their pizza, one ginormous spilled soda, and an entire food court staring at [Boss] and me. [Boss] turns to me, seething.

Boss: “You’re getting written up for this.”

Me: “What? What did I do?”

Boss: “You gave away merchandise and that’s not allowed.”

Me: “But I didn’t! I didn’t give anything away; she came in and took the shirt!”


Me: “So, that’s my third write-up. Are you telling me I’m fired?”

Again, the ENTIRE FOOD COURT is watching this conversation. [Boss] thinks for a moment.

Boss: “You’re not fired. But you’re hanging by a thread.”

Me: “Why? This wasn’t my fault—”

Boss: “I said DON’T ARGUE.”

He stormed off. I returned to the mini-golf booth and spent the day cursing him out in my mind. I never saw the guest or her son again, and I doubt they sued the park.

I quit a month later when I left for college, and I never saw [Boss] again. I heard from former coworkers that [Boss] ended up being fired for having an affair with a sixteen-year-old employee.

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Why Checkout Counters Need Signal Blockers

, , , , , | Right | October 19, 2021

A customer comes up to my register while talking on her phone. As I’m ringing up her purchases, she says:

Customer: “I asked you a question!”

Me: “You are talking on your phone. How am I supposed to know that?”

She didn’t end the call; she just huffed at me. I finished her transaction and she went on her way, still on the phone.

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Smells Like Stupid

, , , | Working | October 19, 2021

I take the bus to work, normally. One morning, I get off the bus, and as I’m walking to the building, I realize that I left my work ID at home. Without it, I cannot get into my office. Because it is a long wait for the bus to go back home and it is unlikely I’ll make a return bus in a timely fashion, either, I decide to order a rideshare to go there and back.

I wait a while for the car, following along on the map. The driver keeps going around in circles on the blocks around where I am waiting without getting here. After a few minutes of this, he calls.

Driver: “I’m having trouble finding you. Where are you?”

Me: “I’m on [Street], at the corner of [Avenue], near the bus stop.

Driver: “Which one? There are two of them.”

Me: “There aren’t two of them in this neighborhood. There’s just the one here. I’m in the shopping district?”

After several more minutes, he finally picks me up.

Driver: “You were right; there was only one!”

He drives to my home, ignoring the map, but thankfully, he listens to my directions when he goes off course. I pick up my ID and we start driving back to my workplace. We make small talk on the way, and he tells me about the passengers he tends to drive.

Driver: “Yeah, I like when I take the ladies like you. They make the car smell good.”

Me: *Pauses* “Glad that hygiene thing is working out for you.”

I almost never downrate drivers, but this one got one star and a report.

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