One of my friends ran a donation center for a local charity. She got a call about a large donation of new children’s items which made her a little suspicious. The man said it was all new, never been used, with lots of furniture and so on. She went to the receiving center to make sure that it actually was what he said, since they’d been getting a number of large donations that were 90% unusable, wasting their time on garbage.

Worker: It’s a weird one. It all looks good, really good, really expensive high-end stuff, but look at the guy.

He was standing there staring with red eyes and the stiffest face she’d ever seen, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter as each item was removed from the truck.

Worker 2: Hey, we can’t take this stuff.

He’s holding a bag full of baby shampoo, soap, diaper cream, etc. and a box of diapers.

Man: Then toss it.

Worker 2: No, I am sick of you people dropping off your garbage…

Man: My daughter is dead and I have no use for any of it. Take it yourself, give it away, stick it in the restroom, I don’t care!

He was yelling at the end, breathing hard, and looked like he was going to start crying. My friend led him to her office and got him some water while the truck was unloaded. He drove off when everything was unloaded.

Worker: It’s a full nursery there. Everything you’d need for a new baby. Tags are off, but he was right, doesn’t look like any of it ever got used. That poor guy.

Sir, I’m so sorry for your loss. Thank you for thinking of others in the worst moment of your life. I hope it helped with your grief a little.

My son works at an amusement park, as his second job. He is an adult.

His ride is geared towards very small children, sometimes accompanied by their parents.

Me: How is that new ride working out?

Son: It’s going well, I have to fasten seatbelts. If the strap is between their legs, I ask them to hand it to me. One lady thanked me.

Me: walks away with a whole new level of respect for my son.

[I regret to say that I’m the bad customer in this story. Thankfully, I wasn’t too insufferable. At least, I think.
My step dad was getting my brothers and me ice cream from the ice cream truck that was going down our street. I saw that they had a banana milkshake, and..]

Me: Could I have a banana milkshake?

Employee: And is that with vanilla or chocolate ice cream?

Me, thinking he hadn’t heard me: Banana, please.

Employee: ..Yes, okay, but would you like that to be made with vanilla or chocolate ice cream?

Me, realizing something’s wrong but not knowing what: ..Banana?

Dad: No, the ice cream-

Me: Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, vanilla, please.

[I hope the guy didn’t get too frustrated just because I forgot how milkshakes are made.]

I work at a religious retreat center. Over the summer camp starts and kids from all over come to stay the week. I work in housekeeping and often use a red wagon to carry sheets from the lodges to laundry.

Girl (about 12 years old from my guess): What are you doing?
Me (carrying sheets in the wagon): moving these sheets
Girl: Can I ride in the wagon?
Me: I’m sorry but no, I need it to carry these dirty sheets.
Girl (walking to keep up with me): I can sit on them!
Me: I’m sorry but it’s still a no
Girl: (trying to get into the wagon while I’m still walking)
Me (walking faster): I said no, I need this wagon to do my job!
Girl’s mom: *girl’s name* what are you doing?! Leave her alone!
Girl: (looks down and walks away)

When the group left, the girl left a note for the housekeeping staff thanking us for cleaning up and apologizing for the wagon incident.

Its story time.

I work the night shift at a 24 hour gas station.

A little while ago a guy came in, purchased a pack of cigarettes, gave me a $20, and said “Put the rest on pump 2.”

No problem… Except.

As I was dealing with the next customer, the cash register began to beep, and indicate that the first customer was actually at pump 3, not 2.

Since the register was tied up with the next customer, I thought the first customer had two choices.

1- Wait for me to move the fuel purchase from 2 to 3 as soon as the register was free.

Or

2- Move his car to pump 2.

However, I failed to consider a third option.

What he did was to move his car to pump 4, and wait for me to transfer his fuel purchase there.