Kerry didn’t have much money as she lived on her pension. But she wanted to buy a dress for her granddaughter Anne’s prom. At a luxury store, saleslady Sandra greeted her but couldn’t disguise her prejudices, as Kerry didn’t look like her regular customers. She drove Kerry away, but someone stepped up to help.
“Grandma, I don’t care about prom! Really. I just want to stay home and watch movies with Mom,” Kerry’s granddaughter, Anne, said through the phone.
Kerry had called her to talk about her graduation from Strawberry Crest High School in Tampa, Florida, was coming up, and prom was right around the corner. But the older woman was surprised when her granddaughter assured her that she didn’t want to go. She claimed to not care about the event, but Kerry knew the truth.
Kerry went to a luxury store to find a dress for Anne. | Source: Shutterstock
Her daughter, Lisa, worked minimum wage, and Kerry lived on her pension alone. None of them had enough money to buy Anne a proper dress for the prom. The 18-year-old felt embarrassed about it.
“Ma’am. Are you ok? Can I help you with anything?” a kind male voice asked.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go? You know I went to the prom with your grandfather. He asked me out of the blue, and we got married a few months later. We loved each other until the day he died, and I still miss him every day. The prom can change your life,” Kerry insisted, her voice cheerful as she tried to convince her to go.
“I know, Grandma. But still. I don’t want to go. Also, I don’t have a date either, so it doesn’t matter. Listen, I have to go study, I still have a few finals left. Talk to you later!” Anne said and hung up the phone too quickly for Kerry’s comfort.
Therefore, the older woman decided something. She was saving a bit of her pension every single month to cover her funeral costs so that Lisa would not have to worry about anything expensive. But there was something more pressing right now.
The saleswoman greeted her but her attitude changed for some reason. | Source: Pexels
She wanted to buy a dress for her granddaughter. Anne deserved it. She was a brilliant kid who worked hard at school. It wasn’t her fault that they lived in poverty most of the time, and Kerry would convince her to go to the prom in a lovely dress.
The following day, she went to the mall and found a beautiful boutique full of amazing dresses. She entered, and her eyes widened at the sparkle. “What would Anne like?” she asked herself, touching one gown closest to her.
“Hello! My name is Sandra. How may I help you… ugh… today?” a saleslady approached Kerry, but she stumbled on her words for some reason. The woman looked up and down at Kerry and her mouth twisted strangely.
“Hi there! I’m looking for a dress for my granddaughter. Her prom is coming up,” Kerry explained, smiling at the woman despite her weird demeanor.
“I’m sorry. This is not a rental store. You have to buy these dresses in full,” Sandra said, linking her hands together.
But Kerry had no idea what she was talking about. “I know that. But can you show me some of the most popular models?”
Kerry realized what the saleslady was implying. | Source: Pexels
“Well, the most popular are pretty pricey. In fact, the entire store might not be in your price range. Perhaps you could go to Target for it?” Sandra suggested, and Kerry finally realized the woman’s attitude. She didn’t think Kerry could afford anything and shouldn’t be shopping at that store.
She was offended immediately but didn’t want to say anything and cause a scene. She continued walking around the store, with Sandra following. “I’m just going to browse around, okay?” Kerry said, trying to get the woman off her back.
“Listen, you can really get nice things at Target in your price range. This is simply too much,” Sandra continued, crossing her arms. “Also, we have cameras everywhere. You won’t be able to stash anything in that ugly old bag of yours.”
Kerry finally turned around to face the rude saleslady, and her eyes widened. Sandra smirked cattily at her, daring her to do something. But she had never been a confrontational person, so she rushed out of the store, ashamed, and tears streamed down her face.
A police officer asked what was wrong. | Source: Unsplash
She was right outside the mall when she dropped her bag accidentally, and for some reason, that made her break down even more. After being humiliated by the woman, she cried heavily, but something touched her shoulder.
“Ma’am. Are you ok? Can I help you with anything?” a kind male voice asked, and Kerry lifted her head to stare at a young cop, who tried to get her to stand up straight. He leaned down to pick up her purse and gave her a dazzling smile.
“Oh, thank you, officer,” Kerry said, grabbing the bag and composing herself.
“Well, I’m still an apprentice. I’m only 20, but I’ll be an official officer soon enough,” the young man answered humorously. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Well, it’s a bit silly…,” the older woman began. Something about his face made her want to talk about it. He was frowning heavily by the time she finished.
“That’s preposterous! How can a salesperson treat you like that?” he said.
“What’s your name, young man?”
He ushered her back to the store and talked to the manager. | Source: Pexels
“George Martins,” he answered and looked toward the mall doors. “Look, my mentor came here for coffee. But we have time to choose a dress. Let’s go!”
Kerry wanted to refuse, but George pulled her along towards the luxury boutique. Sandra spotted her immediately.
“I thought I told you to leave… oh, officer. What’s going on?” Sandra asked, changing her tune as soon as she saw the cop with Kerry.
“We came here for a dress, and we’re not leaving without one,” George stated, and he gestured for Kerry to continue shopping. He also complained to Sandra’s manager while the older woman looked for a dress.
After a few minutes, she finally chose something beautiful for prom, and George even paid for half of it despite Kerry’s objections. But it wasn’t that expensive because the store offered ended up offering them a discount due to the complaint George raised against them. They heard the manager scolding Sandra while leaving.
Anne looked beautiful in her dress but lamented not having a date. | Source: Unsplash
George accompanied Kerry out of the mall and bid her goodbye. But Kerry couldn’t let such a wonderful young man go just like that. “George, do you have any plans this weekend?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slyly, and George laughed.
***
On prom night, Kerry appeared at Lisa’s house to surprise her granddaughter with the dress in her hands. They told her how vital this rite of passage was for every young person, and they dressed her up.
In the end, Anne was happy and looked beautiful. But she shrugged as they took pictures of her. “It’s too bad I don’t have a date,” she said, arranging her dress shyly.
“Actually…,” Kerry stared, and the doorbell rang at that moment.
George was right outside wearing a beautiful tux, and he had a corsage in his hands. The older woman made introductions, explaining what happened at the mall and how kind George was. Anne was embarrassed, but she accepted the corsage and the date.
Years later, they got married. | Source: Unsplash
They had tons of fun at prom, and seven years later, she and George got married.
“I told you prom can change your life!” Kerry said while helping Anne with her wedding dress.
What can we learn from this story?
- It’s not polite to treat anyone any less because of their looks. Sandra judged Kerry because she didn’t look like her regular customers, and she got scolded because of it.
- Help out as much as you can. George saw a crying older woman and decided to help out. And in the end, he found his happiness thanks to that one moment of kindness.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a waitress who mocked a poorly dressed man at a restaurant, and karma hit her back.
Neighbors Made Me Put up a Fence to Hide an ‘Ugly’ Car in My Yard – A Week Later, They Begged Me to Remove It
I didn’t quite see my neighbors’ vintage ’67 Chevy Impala the same way, but to me it was more than just a rusty heap. What was supposed to be a fight over a “eyesore” developed into something none of us saw coming. It altered our peaceful suburban street in ways we never would have imagined.
My dad left me an ancient, beat-up 1967 Chevy Impala. I saw it as a project I wanted to restore and a reminder of my father, even though most people just saw it as a rusted automobile. My garage was piled high with tools and spare components, so the automobile sat in my yard. I’d been trying to save money and find time to work on it, but I knew it looked awful.
But my neighbors were far more concerned about this than I was. I was out inspecting the Impala one bright afternoon when I suddenly remembered something. Gus, my dad, was demonstrating how to change the oil. He smiled, his thick mustache twitching. “You see, Nate? It isn’t complicated science. Simply perseverance and hard work,” he had stated. A piercing voice jolted me back to reality as I was lost in thinking as I ran my fingers over the worn paint. A man leaning against a vintage car’s front end.
Please pardon me, Nate. Could we discuss about that? I turned to see my next-door neighbor, Karen, pointing disgustingly at the Impala. Hello, Karen. What’s going on?” Knowing where this was going, I asked.”That vehicle. It is aesthetically offensive. With crossed arms, she remarked, “It’s destroying the appearance of our street.” I exhaled. “I realize it appears rough right now, but I intend to fix it. It was my dad’s, but Karen cut him off, saying, “I don’t care whose it was.” It must be removed. or at the very least remain unseen. She pivoted and marched back to her house before I could reply.
As I watched her leave, I noticed a knot in my stomach. I vented to my girlfriend Heather over dinner later that night. “Do you think she’s real? “It seems as though she is unaware of the significance this car holds for me,” I remarked, picking at my salad. Squeezing my hand, Heather reached across the table. “I understand, sweetie. However, would you try working on it a little bit more quickly? simply to demonstrate to them your progress? I nodded, but I knew in my heart that it wasn’t that easy. Time was of the essence, and parts were costly.
When I returned home a week later, I discovered a notice from the city hidden beneath the wiper on my “offending” car. As I read it, my stomach fell. The general idea was to either remove the car or conceal it behind a fence. I clenched the piece of paper in my hand, feeling a surge of rage within. This was absurd. I required guidance. I picked up my friend Vince, who also loves cars. “Hey, buddy, have a moment? I’d like your opinion on something. Okay, what’s going on? Vince’s voice came across the phone crackling. I described the circumstances, becoming more irritated as I spoke. Before he spoke, Vince was silent for a while.
He spoke carefully and added, “Build the fence, but add a twist.” “What do you mean?” I curiously inquired.”You’ll discover. This weekend, I’ll be here. This will provide for some enjoyable times. Vince arrived that weekend with a truck full of paint and wood. For the next two days, we worked on erecting a towering fence to enclose my front yard. Vince told me about his strategy as we worked together. “We’re going to decorate this fence with a mural of the Impala. Every rust mark, every ding. We’ll make sure they remember the car if they decide to hide it. Loved the idea, I smiled. “Let’s get started.”On Sunday, we painted. Even though none of us was artistic, we were able to replicate the Impala on the fence really well.
For added effect, we even made some of the flaws seem worse. I was satisfied with my work when we took a step back to admire it. I decided to find out what the neighbors thought of this. It didn’t take me long to learn. There came a knock on my door the following afternoon. When I opened it, a cluster of neighbors surrounding Karen as she stood there. Their expressions were a peculiar mix of desperation and rage. “Nate, we need to talk about the fence,” Karen said in a tight voice. Hiding my delight, I leaned against the doorframe. How about it? I followed your instructions.
The automobile is now hidden.An older man called Frank, one of the other neighbors, raised his voice. We understand that we requested you to conceal the car, but this mural is simply too much, son. I arched an eyebrow. “Too much? In what way? Karen let out a deep sigh. “It’s more awful than the car itself. It appears as though you’ve transformed your entire yard into… “A show of art?” Unable to control my sarcasm, I made a suggestion. “A disgrace,” Karen firmly concluded. “We would prefer to see the actual car instead of this… monstrosity.”Maybe a little too much, I enjoyed their anguish as I crossed my arms. Now, allow me to clarify. You made me spend money on a fence after complaining about my automobile, and now you want me to pull it down? They all gave bashful nods.
After giving it some thinking, I decided to remove the fence—but only under one condition. As long as I’m working on fixing the car, you guys promise to quit whining about it. Alright?They glanced at one another before grudgingly agreeing. I could hear them whispering to each other as they left. I started tearing down the fence the following day. Some of my neighbors were seeing me work with interest. Even Tom, one of them, stopped over to talk. “I never really looked at that car before, Nate,” he remarked, pointing to the Impala. However, after getting a closer look, I can see that it has potential. Which year is it?I grinned, always up for a conversation about the car. It’s a 1967. When I was a little child, my dad purchased it. Tom gave a grateful nod. Good. My brother has a thing for vintage autos.
In the event that you require assistance with the restoration, I might contact him. I took aback at the offer. That would be fantastic. Regards, Tom. In the ensuing weeks, word of my initiative grew. To my astonishment, a number of neighborhood auto aficionados began dropping by to examine the Impala and provide guidance or assistance. I was working on the engine one Saturday morning when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “So, this is the well-known vehicle, huh?” I turned to see Karen standing there, intrigued yet seeming uneasy. I wiped my hands with a cloth and remarked, “Yep, this is her.” Karen moved in closer, staring at the motor. “I must admit that my knowledge of autos is quite limited.
How are you spending your time? Startled by her curiosity, I gave the bare outline of the project I was working on. More neighbors flocked around to listen and ask questions while we conversed. My yard quickly became the scene of an unplanned block party. A cooler full of drinks was brought out, and individuals started talking about their early automotive experiences or their recollections of owning vintage automobiles. I was surrounded by my neighbors as the sun was setting, and we were all conversing and laughing. Karen seems to be having fun as well. Looking at the Impala in the lovely evening light, it seemed better than ever, while still being rusty and battered up.
I couldn’t help but think about how much my father would have enjoyed this scene.Speaking to the group, I remarked, “You know, my dad always said a car wasn’t just a machine.” It was a narrative reimagined. Considering how many stories this old girl has brought out today, I believe he would be quite pleased. There were lifted glasses and murmurs of agreement. I noticed something as I turned to face my neighbors, who were now my pals. Despite all of the difficulty it had caused, this car had ultimately brought us all together. Though the restoration was still a long way off, I sensed that the voyage ahead would be much more pleasurable. Who knows?
Perhaps a whole neighborhood full of vintage vehicle lovers would be eager to go for a drive by the time the Impala was ready to hit the road. I lifted my cup. “To wonderful cars and good neighbors,” I uttered. Everyone applauded, and while I was surrounded by smiles and lively chatter, it occurred to me that sometimes the greatest restorations involve more than simply automobiles. They also care about the community. How would you have responded in that situation?
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