This was years ago, and it was the worst case of emotional whiplash I've ever experienced.
Set up: Hotel, near city conference centre. Concert that evening, I forget who it was now, but it was someone popular (dealt with a LOT of concerts... they all blend together)
It had been arranged that several critically ill (to paraphrase Molock... "You know the kind of illness you get better from? Yeah, not that kind of illness...") are getting to meet the performer, go backstage, the whole thing.
We got involved (I was the Exec Chef at the time), and decided to go all out for these kids. They're going to come to the Hotel before the show, and we're going to treat them like rockstars.
We set up a banquet room for them, full rock star rider... M&Ms separated by colour. Full hot buffet of awesome kid food. We had a "Champagne fountain" of ginger ale, served by servers in white gloves, giving VIP service. We rolled out a red carpet at the front door, and every manager in the building stayed late. We stood in rows beside the red carpet at the front door, greeting these kids as they came in... in wheelchairs, or on crutches.
One kid brought tears to my eyes when he stopped his mom and struggled to his feet from his chair and said, "I'm only gonna get to do this once, and I'm gonna WALK this red carpet."
And you know what? He did it. It clearly exhausted him, and he damn near collapsed back into his chair afterward, but that little badass walked the walk with his head held high. And damn me if he didn't get applause the whole way. Whatever his body was going through, his spirit was soaring like an eagle, if the smile on his face was anything to go by.
And here's the crack of the whiplash, where I went from dewey eyed and smiling to pissed off with no in between.
Note: we did not 'block' the entrance... other guests could still walk in the other door... but it was obvious that we had one of the two doors roped off, with a red carpet. We did not limit access to other guests, nor ignore them. We were still fully staffed, and all staff on hand for this particular event were working for free.
"Whats all this about?" he asked the front desk clerk, as he waved his pudgy paw at the kids.
"It's a VIP event for some very special children" replied the clerk.
"WELL I'M A VIP TOO, AND I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!"
I overheard this, and it took every ounce of self control I had not to punch him the jaw. Not a hint of humour on his face, not a hint of sarcasm, or even the slightest hint that he might not be serious... because he was dead serious.
This wasn't an imposition on him. Didn't slow him down. Didn't take his room from him. Wasn't taking up the corner stool at the bar. Wasn't going to eat the last burger patty. He just wasn't being treated as well as these kids... who were all terminally ill.
I was seething with rage. Writing it now makes me seethe with rage. And on my dying day, I will remember that little fucker.
Spotted this yesterday while I was out shopping.
A group of lads, all in school uniform were in a mini supermarket, getting a few bits, one of them gets pushed into a rack of bottles full of sauce, spices and herbs near one of the tills.
The rest of the group runs off out of the shop, but the one who got pushed into the rack stays where he is.
Instead of getting angry, or running off, he goes to one of the staff and says the following: "Alright man, listen I've made a bit of a mess just there on the 'spicer' rack, do you lot have a sweeping brush and a scoop? I'll clean it up for you."
The staff were amazed by how to-the-point he was; anyone else would have just left.
I hung around to watch what happened, for Health and Safety, they couldn't let him sweep up the glass but he paid for most of the damage, it was about 35 euro, he paid 30.
He walked off with a smile and an ice cream, and the manager was wondering if they could hire him.
(Editor's Note: This story took place in 2013)
I've been staring at the white walls of the video game store for about 2 hours since lunch. It was a very slow day, I glanced at the tables in front of the store,and my heart ache. It was the donation table for the victims of Typhoon Yolanda/Typhoon Haiyan that wrecked my country and even though I have donated what I can, I still feel sad whenever I saw the people on the TV suffering.
I was broken out of my thoughts when the doors jingled open. Customers, finally!
She was a small girl, about 10 or 11 and a pink Hello Kitty backpack was at her small back. Her mother was accompanying her, a few plastic bags in tow. I recognized her mom. When I was selling cigarettes on the street, I see her peddling clothes she made herself on her stall at the market. She now has her own online shop and making a name for herself.
The daughter just had a birthday and her mom finally has enough money to buy a PS3 and some games.
The girl half-jogged, half-skipped to my counter. She opened her backpack and pulled out a console. Her mom handed me the bag full of games.
Girl: "Can I return this?"
Me: "Sure sweetie, no problem."
I inspected at the console and the games, and nothing was opened. Per policy, I returned the money to the mom. She handed the money to the girl, and she ran off as fast as her little feet can take her. I was about to ask when the mom, seeing my expression, explained.
"She wants to sell her birthday gift, so she can donate to the victims."
I honestly teared a bit there. She was willing to give up what was supposed to be hers and gave to those in need. That's real generosity out there.
While I was watching her talking to the girl at the donations table, I was reminded that even though there are a lot of selfish assholes in the world, there's a person just like that little girl and I was happy.
It's Halloween at my local convenience store, (well, in retail time anyways, it's been Halloween since August) and during the holiday season, we often get some... interesting customers.
Today, I observed a father with his daughter, as they browsed the toy aisle together.
Dad: You can pick two, okay?
Cute Kid: Okay!
They examined the shelves for a bit, when the kid's eyes suddenly lit up, as she grabbed something and held it up to her father.
CK: Dad, can I? Please?
Dad: Um, are you sure?
The dad looked both amused and concerned as he walked up to the register, and that's when I noticed the little girl was carrying a rubber severed head in one hand, complete with a bloody neck stump and an exposed brain, and a baseball bat in the other, grinning like she just was experiencing twenty Christmases simultaneously.
Me: Oh wow, are you going to fight zombies?
CK: [offended] No! He's my friend!
She took the severed head back after I finished ringing her up, and held it out in front of her delightedly.
CK: I'm going to call you "Brainy."
She hugged it to her chest as she walked out the door, cheerfully squishing it's brains.