totalobsession:

sixpenceee:

Priceless Stone

Not one of my usual stories but I love the meaning behind it. From here

One day a young boy asks his father what is the value of his life. Instead of answering a father told his son to take this rock and go sell it at a market. If anybody ask the price raise two fingers and don’t say anything. The boy then went to the market and a woman ask “how much is this rock, I want to put it in my garden?” The boy didn’t say anything and raised up two fingers and the woman said $2? I’ll take it!

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Wise words especially to a child.💕

Opinion | I’m a female chef. Here’s how my restaurant dealt with harassment from customers.

shrewreadings:

girlsmoonsandstars:

heringstuff:

The catalyst was a customer — ­ a father of four who had put his hand up the shirt of a busser clearing his family’s table. The busser was so stunned she didn’t report it, but the event sparked a flood of reactions from staff members who’d had similar experiences. At our meeting, women shared stories about harassment from customers and said that when they tried to report it to male managers, they were often ignored because the incidents seemed unthreatening through a male lens.

We decided on a color-coded system in which different types of customer behavior are categorized as yellow, orange or red. Yellow refers to a creepy vibe or unsavory look. Orange means comments with sexual undertones, such as certain compliments on a worker’s appearance. Red signals overtly sexual comments or touching, or repeated incidents in the orange category after being told the comments were unwelcome.

When a staff member has a harassment problem, they report the color — “I have an orange at table five” — and the manager is required to take a specific action. If red is reported, the customer is ejected from the restaurant. Orange means the manager takes over the table. With a yellow, the manager must take over the table if the staff member chooses. In all cases, the manager’s response is automatic, no questions asked. (At the time of our meeting, all our shift managers were men, though their supervisors were women; something else we’ve achieved since then is diversifying each layer of management.)

In the years since implementation, customer harassment has ceased to be a problem. Reds are nearly nonexistent, as most sketchy customers seem to be derailed at yellow or orange. We found that most customers test the waters before escalating and that women have a canny sixth sense for unwanted attention. When reds do occur, our employees are empowered to act decisively.

The color system is elegant because it prevents women from having to relive damaging stories and relieves managers of having to make difficult judgment calls about situations that might not seem threatening based on their own experiences. The system acknowledges the differences in the ways men and women experience the world, while creating a safe workplace.

Brilliant. 

And to support her brilliance, I’ll be buying her cookbook,  Mac and Cheese. 

(Goodreads link here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16169870-the-mac-cheese-cookbook)

Opinion | I’m a female chef. Here’s how my restaurant dealt with harassment from customers.

euphorichords:

bdubs8807:

mildswearingat4am:

writing-prompt-s:

The world’s tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it.

Suggestion: The dragon’s definition of “steal” is somewhat loose. It still allows the coin to be used and bartered and change hands–but on one condition: the dragon must be with it at all times.

They become a familiar sight in the marketplace.

“Here’s your change, ma’am. One gold piece.” The merchant holds out a palm, on top of which rests a tiny, brilliantly colored creature clutching a single gold coin.

“That’s a dragon,” you say dumbly. “One piece… and a dragon.”

“Yes.”

You cautiously reach out and attempt to take your change. You tug. It holds. You tug harder. The dragon lets loose a tiny, protective growl.

“Ma’am–no, ma’am, you have to take the dragon, too.”

“Sorry?”

The seller notes your dubious expression. “Not from around here, are ya?” They shrug. “Them’s the rules. Take the coin, take the dragon.”

They wait expectantly. Wondering how the world has so suddenly gone mad, you slowly, slowly hold out your hand.

The dragon perks right up. It scampers from their palm to yours with the coin clamped in its jaws and scales your sleeve with sharp little claws.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” the merchant says. “Spend him soon, now, you hear? At another booth, if you can. He likes to travel.”

From its perch upon your shoulder, the dragon lets out a happy trill.

Bonus: the coin eventually passes to the rogue in a group of travelling adventurers. The dragon becomes the mascot of the entire group, and they lay out a small pile of coins for him to sleep on every night, clutching his coin like a teddy bear.

This is so pure I am in love