More and more people have gotta be waking up to realize that social media is NOT real life. These luxury content creators stay getting arrested and/or exposed for ILLEGAL ACTIVITY. Scamming, sex work, drugs. Babe
A manager took a suggestion I made to improve work flow and presented it to the team as though it was their idea….. when I was a manager if someone had an idea we would always presented it to the team as their idea I’d give them credit
I want a biopic on Big Mama Thornton.
Four years before Elvis Presley released Hound Dog, she sang it. It was her hit!
Then he imitated her and made millions.
She never saw a dime.
Later she would introduce Hound Dog to crowds as “this is the record I made Elvis rich on.”
IShowSpeed just dropped the trailer for his Caribbean tour, where he’ll be exploring these countries starting April 25:
• Antigua and Barbuda
• Bahamas
• Barbados
• Dominica
• Dominican Republic
• Grenada
• Guadeloupe
• Jamaica
• Puerto Rico
• Sint Maarten
• St. Kitts and Nevis
• St. Lucia
• St. Vincent and the Grenadines
• Trinidad and Tobago
• United States Virgin Islands
At an aquarium in South Korea, after closing time, some clever little otter pups help their grandpa tidy up their toys. As a reward, he gives them ice cubes
This is why it is important to say the first woman and first black man who went to the moon instead of just people. If you still don't get it, you dumb af.
If you are born into a family with financial security I actually think dedicating your life to actively trying to help people is probably the best you could do.
Anonymous
I work the night desk at a rundown motel. $39 a night. Cash only.
Man checked in at midnight. Paid for one night. Looked exhausted.
Next morning found him in the parking lot. Sitting in his truck. Engine running. Hose from the exhaust.
I ran. Ripped the door open. Pulled him out.
He fought me. “Let me go. I have nothing left.”
Called 911. Stayed with him until they came.
Paramedics took him. Psychiatric hold.
Found his room key in the parking lot. Went to his room.
Suicide note on the bed.
Addressed to his kids. He’d lost everything. Job. House. Family. Couldn’t see a way forward.
Visited him at the hospital every day. Brought food. Sat with him.
“Why do you care? You don’t even know me.”
“Because you’re here. And that means something.”
Two weeks later, he got out. Had nowhere to go.
Gave him a job. Night maintenance at the motel. Let him stay in a room.
Six months later, he was managing the place. I’d trained him. Trusted him.
Three years later, he bought the motel from me.
I was retiring anyway.
Last week, drove by. Sign out front: “Second Chance Inn.”
He’d repainted. Fixed it up. Made it nice.
Called me. “Half the rooms are permanent housing. For people like I was. People who need somewhere to start over.”
He’s housed forty-seven people in two years.
Suicide hotline number on every room phone.
“Because a night clerk grabbed me out of a truck and refused to let me disappear.”