Cupcakes Have Restorative Ingredients

, , , , , , | Hopeless | August 11, 2018

Last Thursday at school, the whole school was under a medical lockdown for two periods in the middle of the day; no one was allowed to leave the room they were in. We later discovered a much-loved teacher had collapsed, and suffered a heart attack in front of his students and fellow staff.

Unfortunately, paramedics were unable to revive him, and he passed away just after third period started. Our whole school was very shocked, and understandably a lot of students and staff were very saddened at the news.

The next day, there was a “dark cloud” over the whole school and the lessons were certainly not as cheerful as normal. A boy in my class took it upon himself to bake cupcakes for all the staff at school — 144 cupcakes in one night — plus ice them all, and leave a note saying, “It may not be a relief but just know that we are all here for you. -A message from all of your students.”

He really did restore my faith in humanity.

They’re Blinds To Reason

, , , , , | Working | August 10, 2018

(A year previous to this story, my husband and I moved down the hall in our apartment building. We did everything the landlord asked of us, including taking our blinds to be professionally cleaned. This turned out to be a huge inconvenience, as the landlord required a receipt from one specific cleaning company, who did not make house calls and was located outside the city in a near-rural area. We had to make two round-trips to drop the blinds off and pick them back up. We also did not get reimbursed for doing this. Now fast-forward a year: We are moving overseas. My husband has already left, and I am extremely stressed from dealing with vacating the apartment on my own, as well as the emotional toll of saying goodbye to all my family and friends. I also no longer have access to a vehicle. This conversation takes place on moving day as I am handing my keys over.)

Property Manager: “Okay, I’ve had a look through your place, and it all seems really clean. The only thing is that I haven’t got your receipt from [Blinds Cleaning Company].”

Me: “That’s because I haven’t done the blinds.”

Property Manager: *condescendingly* “Well, that’s going to come out of your damage deposit. The fee for bringing someone in to clean the blinds is [fee].”

Me: “Oh, I know. That’s fine.”

Property Manager: “Why didn’t you do it?”

Me: “Because I did it last year, paid [same fee] to the cleaning company, and didn’t get reimbursed. It also took ages to get out there and back.”

Property Manager: “But you’re supposed to get the blinds cleaned!”

Me: “I know, but it doesn’t make any sense if you’ll just take the same amount out of my damage deposit. The way I see it, by not spending the gas money going all the way out there and back — twice — I’m actually likely saving a bit.”

Property Manager: *silence*

Me: “To be honest, I don’t know why anyone even bothers going out there if you just charge them, anyway.”

Property Manager: “But… it’ll come out of your damage deposit.”

Me: *sigh*

(I don’t think he ever really understood my point!)

The Language Of Disrespect

, , , , , , , | Working | August 3, 2018

(I’m a Caucasian woman, but as my stepfather is Indian, I speak fluent Punjabi. I regularly catch taxis for work, which are charged to a work account. I book a taxi four hours before I want to travel. The taxi is thirty-five minutes late. When I get in, the driver is on the phone through bluetooth — which runs through the radio — talking in Punjabi. He offers no explanation on why he is late. I give my destination, which he doesn’t comment on; he just keeps on talking, but starts driving. As the trip progresses, he is still on his phone commenting, among other things, about me.)

Driver: *in Punjabi* “I’m taking a b**** to [Destination], then I’ll get lunch.”

(I decide to record the conversation on my phone and start taking down his license number and the taxi number.)

Driver: *in English* “What are you doing?”

Me: “Just writing some notes for my meeting. Are you going to spend the whole trip on the phone? It’s incredibly rude and unprofessional, and it is giving me a headache.”

Driver: *in Punjabi* “This stupid, white b**** wants me off the phone. I’ll take her the long way and make her pay. I’ll call you back once I drop the [insult] off.”

Driver: *in English* “I was talking to my brother. We have many taxis and are coordinating our drivers. I’m trying to make a living here.”

Me: “If you have many drivers, why were you thirty-five minutes late? And I fully understand you’re trying to make a living, but if I turned up over half an hour late without so much as an apology or explanation, completely ignored the client, and then spent fifteen minutes on the phone, I wouldn’t have my job.”

(He looks at me angrily, but says nothing and continues driving. When his phone rings again…)

Driver: *in English* “This is my wife. It could be an emergency.”

Me: *giving him the benefit of the doubt* “Fine, but please make it quick.”

Driver: *in Punjabi* “Hi, sorry, I’ve got some white [insult] who thinks she’s too good and doesn’t want me on the phone. A man needs to teach the b**** a lesson.”

Me: *in Punjabi* “Pull over, now! I’ve had enough. I’ll be making a complaint and making sure my boss does, too.”

Driver: *in Punjabi* “You understand?”

Me: *still in perfect Punjabi* “Yes, I do. Now pull over.”

(The driver pulls over and stops the metre.)

Driver: “Okay, that’s [amount way higher than the metre].”

Me: “Seriously? One, it’s on an account. Two, that’s not what the metre showed, and three, after what just happened, you expect me to pay?”

Driver: *now really angry, locks the door* “You discriminate against me. Pay the fare; otherwise, I’ll call the police.”

Me: “Call the police. You’re holding me against my will. Plus, it should all be recorded.” *I point to a mandatory camera that by law should record audio and video* “I think they would be interested in what has happened.”

(He unlocked the door. I quickly got out and he took off. I called my boss to explain what had happened. My boss sent a coworker to get me. I filed a complaint with the cops and the taxi company. It turns out he was already under investigation for similar incidents and for not having the camera hooked up. He tried to say I had offered him sex in return for a free ride, then called him racist slurs and threatened to kill him. Luckily, I had enough of the trip recorded on my phone. He was charged with numerous offenses, including holding me against my will.)

Some People Are Half A Cookie Away From Crumbling

, , , , | Right | July 26, 2018

(I am a fellow customer in this story. It’s a busy night at a popular fast food outlet linked to a major railway station. I am next in line to be served, but the cashier has had to momentarily help out the staff making food. Everyone is waiting patiently. The whole kitchen process is visible to everyone on the street outside waiting to order or pick up. I have also worked in both retail and food service extensively in the past. A well-dressed woman, in her 50s or 60s, sidles up beside me. Thinking that she’ll work out that there’s a sizeable queue behind me any second, I say nothing to her and order my food. The woman takes a cookie from a jar on the counter and begins to eat it.)

Cashier: *noticing, smiles at the woman* “Hey there, just please keep in mind that the cookies aren’t free.”

Woman: *offended* “I’m going to pay for it!”

(She takes another bite and then opens the jar and puts the half-eaten cookie back in. I look around to the people behind me in shock; everyone just stares at her.)

Woman: *begins to order food*

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am; there’s a queue to order food.”

Woman: *scowls at me* “I’ve been here for ages! It’s my turn now! I’ve been here for ages.”

Me: *not in the mood to tolerate such a childish lie, knowing that the cashier won’t feel comfortable to contradict her* “You have not been here for ages. Please get to the back of the queue and wait your turn.”

(The woman continues to argue with me.)

Customers Behind Me: *taps me on shoulder* “Thank you for trying, but don’t worry. Just let her go.”

(The woman orders her food, making several corrections and alterations, making everyone wait longer. The cashier doesn’t even charge her for the half-eaten cookie, which has ended up in the bin along with the rest of the jar. I am standing patiently to the side waiting for my food. The woman unnecessarily stands less than a foot away from me.)

Woman: *sneers* “You’re a sticky-nose, aren’t you?”

Me: *looks at her, stony-faced*

Woman: “You don’t come into the city very often, do you?”

Me: *another stony glance before pointedly ignoring her*

Woman: “Nobody would notice you without your stupid hair and stuff through your lip…” *referring to my brightly-coloured hair and neat facial piercings*

Me: *hungry and losing patience, I respond firmly, but without anger* “I will not be spoken to like that by you. Please stop talking to me.”

Woman: *leans in even closer, trying to continue her critical assessment of my physical appearance*

Me: *talking over her, sternly* “I said, stop talking to me.”

Woman: *keeps going*

Me: *with sharp contempt* “I’ve tried to be reasonable with you. Stop. Talking. To. Me… And GROW UP.”

Woman: *stunned, she mutters repeatedly* “Get f***ed.”

(I collected my food, smiled at the cashier, and told him that I hoped that his night would improve. He smiled and thanked me. I walked past the woman, who was still glowering at me. Some people really are truly horrendous.)

Trying To Get Pay Dirt

, , , , , , , | Learning | July 25, 2018

My friend’s father apparently has marijuana in his backyard, and my friend claims that he can get some.

One day, he and another friend were walking very quickly around the school, and my dumb friend said that he is going to sell his dad’s weed to a girl at school — they were walking around to mask the smell of the drugs. I walked away, and later at lunch I saw him exchange something with the girl he’d been talking about.

Only then did I find out that my dumb friend had sold dirt for $30(AUD). He got caught by the police, as it was still illegal for students to be selling things on school grounds. What baffled me was that his parents weren’t mad, but almost impressed that he got 30 bucks for dirt!

Page 4/25First...23456...Last