My wife and I like to text, but soon after we signed up with [Cell Phone Company], our texts were often delayed, sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for three hours, and sometimes for DAYS! Mind you, we had signed up for unlimited texting, and nowhere was there mention of our texts being delayed at all, much less three days.

My wife called the company to see what the problem was.

Representative: “Oh, you want your texts delivered right away? That’s an extra $1.99 a month, each.”

Wife: “No, thank you. Please close our account immediately.”

After the usual attempts at client retention, they had to agree to close our account with them.

Two hours later, my wife had us signed up with [Huge National Company], and we’ve never had a problem in fifteen years.

Beware of special “deals” in cell service, or anywhere!

There is a common theme on this site about size being intimidating. The punch line is often, “He was secretly big!” However, being tall isn’t everything; your center of balance is also high.

When I was in high school, I was on the wrestling team as a small, timid young woman. I wasn’t great at it because I didn’t want to be “rude.” This story is not about high school, but it is relevant that I spent hours every single weekday drilling skills such as throws and pins.

One day, I’m walking up the street at 11:00 pm in an area known for mugging. I’m wearing a short skirt and carrying a large purse. (It only contains a pair of dance shoes, $5 for the dance I’m headed to, and my ID.) I’m also feeling a bit down, so I’m just trudging along looking like a good target.

I hear the sound of footsteps running behind me. I think, “Either I’m about to die, or that’s a jogger.” Since I am depressed, I am so unfazed that I don’t even bother to look.

Moments later, the “jogger” catches up to me. The following all occurs in less than thirty seconds. I feel an impact of a puffy jacket, and I feel an arm wrap over my left shoulder and another around my ribcage. Without thinking or breaking stride, I throw the guy over my hip. Due to his momentum, he slides a few meters with me on top of him. 

Because this guy is much bigger than me, he is essentially a sled for me. When we come to a stop, I already have my arms around his collarbone in a half-nelson. He can’t get up, and we stare at each other, both having bitten off more than we can chew.

Unfortunately, there is another guy to come to the rescue. He tries to pull me off using my very sturdy and thick purse. I may be small, but I know how to use leverage, so it isn’t going to happen. To my surprise, the purse strap breaks and the guy runs off, leaving his buddy.

I speak to the dude I have pinned.

Me: “There are only dance shoes in the purse, but I want them back. Let’s chase your friend and get my shoes back?”

The guy nodded, and I let go to take off running. He was slightly faster and didn’t actually intend to give my shoes back, but I chased them for about twelve blocks before losing sight. I kept shouting at them to just drop the shoes. My walking shoes had fallen off during the scuffle, so I can only imagine what bystanders thought.

I did find my ID in a gutter a few days later, though, so maybe they did dump the broken purse and shoes and I just didn’t find them.

They weren’t expensive shoes, but a decade later I still haven’t replaced them, and I still don’t like when people run up behind me.

However, I’ve never found someone intimidating just for their size. Brute force with strength or weight only gets you so far. This wasn’t the only time where I was able to humble a big tough guy as a result of being the worst member of a high school wrestling team.

I do picture framing. A woman brings in a canvas painting of some flowers to get framed, and when it’s all done:

Client: “You cut the tips of the petals off the flowers!”

Me: “I can assure you that we didn’t do anything to the painting, ma’am.”

Client: “No! I remember there being tips to the petals!

I take the whole thing apart, show her where the unpainted raw edges of the canvas are, and spend some time trying to explain to her that the tips of the flowers never existed because the artist never painted them, and therefore we couldn’t possibly have cut them off.

Client: “Well then, put it on a bigger frame so that I can see the tips again!”

Instead of arguing, I just stretched it on a frame that was a quarter-inch bigger all around so the edges of the painting could be seen, and that seemed to make her happy.

I recently started a new job after quitting my old job. One of the things that caused me to quit my old job was that my supervisor actually grabbed me and shoved me out of the way after putting me on the registers after only four hours of training. I told the manager exactly what happened, and she actually said she couldn’t do anything about it. I reported her to her boss and then handed in my two weeks’ notice.

Now, I’m working at a grocery store, and once again, I’ve been put on the registers with barely any training, which was done by an unprepared girl who was quitting that day.

It’s worth noting that I also have anxiety and am on the autism spectrum. I think some employers think that people on the spectrum don’t know their rights, which is unfortunately true in some cases, especially when it was less understood twenty years ago.

I’m working my way through a long line of customers and keep having to ask my shift lead for a manager code or help with pricing. I’ve also asked for help repeatedly but only got lip.

Finally, my shift lead comes up to my register, pushes me out of the way without a word, and takes over.

Furious, I tear off my nametag and storm into the manager’s office.

Me: “I can’t work like this!”

Manager: “Whoa! What happened?”

Still fuming, I tell her exactly what happened, and her eyes get narrower and narrower. Then, I tell her that I was also basically assaulted at my last job, and I tell her about my lack of training.

She actually stands up and calls for the human resources manager, and they follow me to the register where the shift lead is still checking customers out.

Shift Lead: *To me* “Finally! Where have you been? You won’t last long with that attitude!”

Manager: “Actually, it’s you who won’t last long! You’re telling me you sent her on the register after less than a day of training?! You’re the front-end supervisor! Come into my office. I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll get someone else to check you out. [Coworker], if you’re on the clock, can you help these people out? I’ll get someone to help with your usual duties so you’re not behind.”

I go to the break room to calm down, and I can hear the store manager berating the shift lead for her behavior and attitude from where I sit.

The shift lead comes out in tears, and the store manager asks me to come into her office.

Manager: “I’m sorry for how [Shift Lead] treated you. You won’t have to worry about her anymore. Assault of any kind is not tolerated here. You can take today and tomorrow off to calm down, and then I’ll go over your schedule with you and [Assistant Manager] next week. And I promise you’ll get proper training. By the way, did you ever report the girl at your last job who assaulted you? [Human Resources Manager] can help with that; she works with the Labor Department.”

So, not only did my bad temper get my new shift lead fired, but I wound up getting two people at my last job suspended.

CONTENT WARNING: Cancer

Once upon a time, our store director used to be a department manager — specifically, for the department my mother got a job in. When my mother was hired, everyone at her work knew that my father was dying of lung cancer. When he was getting near the end, each adult and I — I was thirteen then — had to take time off from work or school so someone was home with him in case he fell, needed help getting to the bathroom, etc.

After being my mom’s boss for about two months, this man — this “son of the devil” as I call him — came up to my mom.

Boss: “You’ve been missing a lot of work.”

Mom: “Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I have to take care of my husband.”

Boss: “So, when is this all going to be over and done with?”

Mom: *Staring at him in shock* “You mean… when is my husband going to die?!”

Boss: “Yeah. It needs to hurry up so you can get back to work.”

I will never forget it because that was the day my mom came home sobbing, and she had always tried to be strong during this ordeal. She didn’t know who to talk to at work without it coming back and getting her fired.

[Boss] eventually was transferred, so when I started working there, he was somewhere else. The only consolation was that when he came back to be our store director, my mother had kept a notebook with all of the dates and times of everything horrible he had ever said or done to her. A regional worker was there to help get him settled. Mom went in and handed over the notebook. Unfortunately, since so much time had passed, they weren’t able to fire him, but we did hear the regional worker still screaming at him two hours later behind closed doors.

The man has been sweet as pie to Mom and me ever since.

Related:
Wow. Not A Single Drop Of Compassion.