John Sims relocated to Tucson, Arizona in an attempt to lead a more sedate existence. It never occurred to him that it would turn into one of his life’s most memorable experiences. It all began when he was informed about a concerning rumor by the previous owner of his new house.
There was a rumor that there was something buried on the land. John began excavating in the backyard because he could not get the thought out of his head. He shuddered at what he found. Without a doubt, he did not sign up for this.
The home with the enigmatic backyard
John Sims was keen to acquire a house in midtown Tucson, Arizona, after learning about a friend’s sale. He knew he would be in good hands because the owner was one of his friends. However, after completing the paperwork, his acquaintance informed him of a property rumor.
The town’s elders say they think something intriguing was hidden away someplace in it. John might be able to unravel the puzzle, but his companion never was. In the end, John would find something that would make people throughout the state of Arizona very excited.
His curiosity overcame him.
John found himself recalling what his friend had said as he began to arrange his stuff in his new home. He was interested as much as curious. He soon became committed to discovering the mysteries around his new home.
John dug and proceeded to explore his property. After excavating the backyard in four separate locations, John was unable to find anything. Whatever it is, it must be beneath the bricks if he was unable to discover it beneath the grass.
X indicates the location
When John obtained access to local records, he discovered the documentation of his home’s construction. It revealed that an odd building named Whitaker Pools had been constructed in 1961. With confirmation now in hand that something was indeed buried on the land, John was even more driven to unravel the mystery.
He employed metal detector-wielding advisors to assist him in pinpointing the location. After arriving with the necessary equipment, a team searched John’s backyard. The metal detectors soon started to sound. John put a large X in the chalk at the locations of the two metal detector triggers.
striking a chord
Following the consultants’ dismissal, John eagerly picked up a shovel and began excavating. His shovel quickly made contact with something metallic. At last, he discovered something three feet beneath the grass. John chose to take a moment to reflect after making progress.
Could this have been a septic tank? What would happen if he managed to break or damage a pipe? He needed to be very careful. But the more precisely he dug, the more he felt that this was something different. He was going to unravel the riddle of his own backyard.
Getting the hatch open
Later on, John discovered what appeared to be a hatch’s opening. After bending over to remove some dirt, he pryed open the metal lid. John took care to avoid breathing in too much as there was a chance he would be exposed to harmful gas fumes or mold spores.
To allow any air from below to escape and allow fresh air to enter the building, John kept the lid open for almost a day. Additionally, he was aware that before entering the little area, the air needed to be checked for mold.
It wasn’t secure.
The following morning, John looked through the hatch. He discovered a spiral staircase that led below. John wasn’t that stupid, though most would have been so pleased that they would have started walking down right away.
He was more aware. He needed someone nearby as the captain of the Rural/Metro Fire Department in case the lid dropped back in. Now that he was home alone, there was no way he could remove the lid from below by himself.
Establishing a team
John was aware of all the dangers because of his extensive training and experience in rescuing individuals from confined areas. It was evident to him that the staircase was unstable and that venturing into the shaft alone would involve too many hazards.
John made the decision to start a team. To get some assistance, he invited several pals around. When it was safe enough to investigate what was inside the shaft, some of them may serve as spotters while others could assist him in carrying out the excavation.
Putting together a plan
The following day, the crew got together and sat down to create a blueprint. They also spoke on the best course of action. They repaired and strengthened the concrete framework around the steps as one of their initial actions.
In order to prevent any harm while they worked, they erected Sonotube cardboard around the entryway. John and his group labored to fasten the rebar inside the hatch and pour down layers of concrete.
It was laborious.
John had to cover the hatch with a tarpaulin to keep the team and the hatch safe. The heat in Arizona was beginning to get to be too much. They conjectured about what might be down there as they took breaks to escape the heat.
To locate the answers, there was much work ahead of us. In order to have adequate lighting within the shaft and to use power equipment when necessary, an electrical line had to be built. Additionally, a black pipe was put in to convey fresh air into the shaft.
figuring out how to get in
Their construction surrounding the structure was finally completed. Another obstacle was the spiral staircase, though. It was impossible to tell if the steps could support any weight because they were so rusted. Without going up the steps, they had to find another way inside.
John had to gently down the ladder that the team was using, being cautious not to cut himself on the rusty stairs. John was giddy with anticipation. He was going to be the one to crack the code first. The time he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
There was unfinished business.
John was relieved to learn they did not need to dig any further after reaching the bottom. However, there was still more to be done. The fiberglass covering the tunnel ceilings was deteriorating gradually. This implied that the building was still not safe.
When John thoroughly looked around, he was astounded to find that the building was largely intact despite almost fifty years of abandonment. Though it was empty at the time, it was later discovered to be John’s nuclear bomb bunker in his backyard!
Beginning during the Cold War
Everything became sense at once. When there was a threat of all-out nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War, the shelter was constructed. At that time, Whitaker Pools expanded their business to include bomb shelters.
In actuality, bomb shelters were present on a number of properties in the Tucson region. It was the most a responsible family man could do in those days to ensure his loved ones’ safety in the event of a nuclear war.
The past of Tucson
It turns out that bombs and Tucson have a long history together. With eighteen ballistic missiles that could transcend continents and wipe out an area of 900 square miles, Tucson was once known as the “rocket town.”
The government maintained the missile silos top secret, and nearly all of the missiles had been rendered inoperable by the end of the Cold War. In the early 1980s, the majority of nuclear shelters were either locked or destroyed.
gaining popularity
John soon gained popularity on Reddit after sharing his discovery from his backyard. Within hours, hundreds of people had commented on the post. TV programs and local newspapers began contacting to arrange interviews regarding it.
Even foreign publications like the Daily Mail carried the story. Japan has also heard of John’s story. Definitely a significant discovery. Residents in Tucson also began to worry if they had one in their backyard.
What comes next?
John was able to establish connections with local residents who had fallout shelters thanks to the attention he received. He had the opportunity to inquire about their cleaning process and obtain suggestions from them on its future use.
John intends to create a Cold War museum, but the majority of individuals converted theirs into man caves or wine cellars. John began gathering artifacts such as Geiger counters, water supply barrels, HAM radios, and sanitation kits after doing extensive research on the Cold War era.
His reflections on his discovery
In an interview, John said, “I was really hoping it was going to be a little microcosm… a time capsule full of radiation detectors, cots, and civil defense boxes and stuff like that.” Sadly, there was not even any furniture in the bomb bunker.
John also mentioned how much reading he had been doing on the Cold War. He thinks that the main reason Tucson people built bomb shelters in their backyards in the 1960s was likely the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Recommendations for citizens of Tucson
John advises residents of Tucson who are interested in finding out if their backyard contains a bomb shelter to search City of Tucson or Pima County data. The building permits will most likely contain the information.
When someone discovers a bomb shelter in the yard, John also cautions everyone against jumping in too soon. John went on to say that it’s usually not a good idea to jump into holes in the earth since anyone can get instantly incapacitated by the toxic air in a tunnel or a cave-in.
Requesting financial assistance
John is fully planning to renovate the bomb shelter. However, he lacked that amount of cash. To raise money to refurbish his 1960s bomb shelter, he created a GoFundMe page. He intended to renovate the entrance and do inside renovations as well.
Replacing the stairs to enable safe access was one of John’s top concerns. John was only able to accomplish so with the money he was able to gather, and he and the remodeling team may now enter and exit the building safely.
An arrogant customer threw fresh juice at me – but I’m not someone to be walked over, so I gave her a lesson she’ll remember.
When an entitled customer humiliated me and hurled her drink at my face in front of everyone, she thought I’d take it lying down. What happened next was a lesson in why one should never underestimate someone in an apron.
The moment I stepped into the health food store that morning, the scent of fresh produce and herbal teas hit me like a wave. I breathed it in, savoring the familiar aroma that had become a part of my daily routine over the past year. As I tied my apron around my waist, I couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be different somehow…
“Hey, Grace! Ready for another exciting day of juice-making?” My coworker, Ally, called out from behind the counter.
I laughed, shaking my head. “You know it! Gotta keep those entitled customers happy, right?”
But as I said those words, a knot formed in my stomach. There was one customer in particular who always seemed to go out of her way to make our lives miserable.
We called her “Miss Pompous” behind her back, a fitting name for someone who acted like she owned the place every time she walked through the door.
I tried to push thoughts of her aside as I started my shift. I needed this job, not just for me, but for my family.
My widowed mother’s medical bills weren’t going to pay themselves, and my younger sister was counting on me to help with her college expenses. This job was my lifeline, and I couldn’t afford to lose it.
As I wiped down the juice bar, Ally leaned in close. “Heads up,” she whispered. “Miss Pompous just pulled into the parking lot. Brace yourself.”
My heart sank. “Great! Just what I needed to start my day.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in she walked, her designer heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to disaster.
Miss Pompous strutted up to the counter, her nose so high in the air I was surprised she could see where she was going. Without so much as a “hello,” she barked her order at me.
“Carrot juice. Now.”
I bit my tongue, forcing a smile. “Of course, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As I started juicing the carrots, I could feel her eyes boring into me, watching my every move like a hawk. The pressure was so intense that my hands started to shake slightly as I worked.
Finally, I handed her the freshly made juice. “Here you go, ma’am. Enjoy your drink!”
She snatched it from my hand and took one sip. Her eyes widened in disgust and her mouth curled into a sneer.
“Uh-oh, looks like someone’s about to unleash their inner drama llama!” I thought.
Before I could even react, Miss Pompous THREW the entire contents of the cup directly AT MY FACE.
The cold liquid splashed across my cheeks, dripping down my chin and soaking into my apron. I stood there in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened.
“What is this watered-down garbage?” she screeched, her voice echoing through the store. “Are you trying to poison me?”
I blinked, wiping juice from my eyes. “I… I don’t understand. It’s the same recipe we always use.”
“It’s disgusting! Make it again, and this time, use your brain!”
My cheeks burned with humiliation as I felt the eyes of every customer in the store on me. Tears threatened to spill over, but I refused to let her see me cry.
“Is there a problem here?” My manager, Mr. Weatherbee, suddenly appeared beside me, his brows furrowed in concern, though I couldn’t tell if it was for me or for the prospect of losing a customer.
Miss Pompous turned her venom on him. “Your incompetent employee can’t even make a simple juice correctly! I demand a refund and a free replacement!”
To my horror, Mr. Weatherbee immediately began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. Of course, we’ll remake your juice right away, free of charge.”
He then turned to me. “Grace, please be more careful next time. We can’t afford to upset our valued customers.”
My jaw dropped. “But sir, I—”
He cut me off with a sharp look. “Just get the carrots from the fridge, Grace, and help me remake the juice.”
Miss Pompous smirked at me, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. In that moment, I felt smaller than the carrot peelings in the compost bin.
For a split second, I contemplated ripping off my apron and storming out, never to return.
But then, like a snapshot, my mom’s tired smile and my sister’s hopeful eyes flashed through my mind. I needed this job. I couldn’t let them down, not when they were counting on me.
So, with a heart hardening like steel, I stood my ground.
I forced myself to meet Miss Pompous’s gaze, refusing to buckle under the weight of her contempt. This entitled woman thought she could buy someone’s dignity with her money, that she could stamp out someone’s self-worth just because she was rich.
Well, not this time.
I wasn’t going to let it slide anymore. I wasn’t a doormat, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let my dignity be trampled on without consequence.
You know how they say you fight fire with fire? Well, this was it. A plan began to brew in my mind, bold and risky… but oh so satisfying!
As Mr. Weatherbee turned his back to the juicer and stepped away, answering a call on his cell phone, I made my move.
I casually reached into the fridge behind the counter, my fingers bypassing the neat, uniform carrots until they closed around the biggest, ugliest carrot I could find.
It was gnarled and tough… exactly what I needed.
I locked eyes with Miss Pompous, making sure she was watching.
“One moment, please,” I said, my voice sickly sweet. “I’ll make sure this juice is “perfect” for you.”
Miss Pompous watched with narrowed eyes as I fed it into the juicer.
The machine groaned and sputtered, struggling with the oversized vegetable. Juice began to spray everywhere across the counter, onto the floor, and most satisfyingly, all over Miss Pompous’s designer purse that she’d carelessly left too close to the danger zone.
Her shriek of horror was music to my ears.
“My bag!” she wailed, snatching it up and futilely trying to wipe away the orange stains. “You stupid girl! Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, ma’am. It was an accident, I swear.”
Her face turned an impressive shade of purple. “Accident? You deliberately ruined my three-thousand-dollar purse! I demand compensation! Where the heck is your manager?”
I could feel laughter bubbling up inside me, threatening to burst out. Struggling to keep a straight face, I gestured vaguely towards a group of customers browsing the aisles.
“I think I saw him helping someone over there,” I said, my voice wavering slightly with suppressed mirth.
As Miss Pompous turned to look, I took the opportunity to slip away, ducking behind the stockroom door.
From my hiding spot, I watched as she gave up waiting and stormed out of the store, clutching her dripping bag close to her chest, leaving a trail of carrot juice in her wake.
The bell above the door jangled violently as she slammed it behind her.
I let out a sigh of relief, but the knot in my stomach told me this wasn’t over. Miss Pompous wasn’t the type to let something like this go. I knew she’d be back, and next time, she’d be out for blood.
The next morning, I arrived at work with a swirl of dread churning in my stomach.
Barely an hour into my shift, Miss Pompous burst through the door like a storm cloud, making a beeline for the counter.
“Where is the owner?”
Before I could answer, Mr. Weatherbee emerged from the back room, his face pale. “Mrs. Johnson? Is there a problem?”
“I want to speak to the owner. Now!” she snapped.
As if on cue, the owner, Mr. Larson, appeared. He was a kind-faced man in his sixties.
“I’m the owner,” he said calmly. “What seems to be the problem?”
Miss Pompous launched into a tirade, her voice growing shriller with each word. “Your incompetent employee ruined my expensive purse yesterday! I demand she be fired immediately, and I expect full compensation for my loss!”
Mr. Larson listened patiently. When she finally ran out of steam, he simply said, “I see. Well, let’s take a look at the security footage, shall we?”
My heart skipped a beat. I’d forgotten about the cameras. Oh no.
We all gathered around the small monitor in Mr. Larson’s office. As the footage played, showing Miss Pompous throwing juice in my face and my subsequent “accident” with her purse, the room fell silent.
Finally, Mr. Larson turned to Miss Pompous. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation. What I see here is an unfortunate accident that occurred after you assaulted my employee. If anyone should be considering legal action, it’s us.”
Miss Pompous’s jaw dropped. “But… but my purse!”
“I suggest you leave now, Mrs. Johnson. And please don’t return to this establishment. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone who mistreats our staff.”
With a final glare of pure hatred in my direction, Miss Pompous stormed out, the bell over the door clanging violently in her wake.
As soon as she was gone, Mr. Larson turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “Well, Grace, I hope it was just an accident.”
“Yes, sir. It was! Why would I intentionally ruin a customer’s belongings?” I lied.
Mr. Larson nodded and walked away. As I hurried back to the juice bar, Ally gave me a high five. “Way to go, Grace! You stood up to the wicked witch!”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in months. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
Well, that was justice served, with a side of carrot juice! Sometimes, what goes around comes around in the most unexpected ways. And let me tell you, it tastes pretty sweet.
That night, as I recounted the story to my mom and sister over dinner, I realized something important: standing up for myself hadn’t just taught Miss Pompous a lesson, it had reminded me of my own worth.
So, have you ever dealt with entitled people like Miss Pompous? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments. After all, we’ve all got to stick together against the “Karens” of the world, right?
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