1. All The Way To The Top

About a year ago, I was running a small video game tournament in the small company I owned. The waitlist had a full list of 16 people, and it was fine, until one entitled parent ruined it for everyone. So we were starting up the games when a dad ran into the store with his son. Dad: We’re here for the tournament. Me: Oh sorry, but the list is full. Dad: Well then, make some room. Me: I can’t do tha—

Dad: Listen, I can get you fired with the push of a button. Me: How? Dad: I have been friends with the CEO of this company for a long time. Me: Then call him. I watch him make a fake phone call then hang up. Because I know something he doesn’t know. Dad: He says you’re fired. Me: That's funny, considering I am the CEO. His look of shock still makes me laugh to this day.

Thatonerandomduck

2. Everybody’s Got A Story

This encounter happened about seven months ago. About a year ago, I was diagnosed with cancer of the nasal cavity (stage 2). The tumor was quite large, but thankfully hadn’t spread. To get it removed, I first had to undergo aggressive chemotherapy to make it smaller. Thanks to the chemo, I had severe alopecia (hair loss), which made most of my hair and even eyebrows and eyelashes fall out.

At some point, I had to go bald, but I wore a wig, because I didn't want to look scary. I'm 6'4" and pretty muscular, so I thought people would assume wrong things about me. So once, after a long chemo session in the hospital, I took the bus home. There's only one bus that goes from the hospital to where I live, so I took that one, only to see it was absolutely packed.

I felt like garbage thanks to the chemo, so I asked a middle-aged dude to let me sit. He was very understanding and gave me his spot without complaining. Two stops later, enter entitled mom, a lovely whale with an "I demand a meeting with the CEO" haircut and a 12-year old kid. It took her roughly five seconds to see the bus was packed.

At this point, she started looking for a free seat, spotted me, and started marching to me. When I saw her, I knew I was screwed. She then stood next to me and decided to talk to me. This is the conversation that followed: Her Hey, could you let my kid sit down? Me: You mean me? Her: Who else? Me: Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm on my way from the hospital and—

Her: (cutting me off) So are we (nonsense, the stop was a few kilometers away from the hospital), my boy just broke his leg and we're coming straight from the ER. Let it be noted, her kid was standing next to her, without any support, clearly embarrassed. Me: He's standing next to you, completely fine Her: Look here, my kid DESERVES to sit down

Me: Look madam, I'm sorry, but I just got back from a chemo session in the hospital and I need to sit down and rest (I then moved my wig a bit to let her see my bald head). At this point, she then straight up started yelling in my face Her: STOP MAKING EXCUSES AND GET OFF THE SEAT YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE. At this point, I was baffled. I didn't know what to say. The kid was trying to make his mother stop and we had the attention of the whole bus. But she was nowhere near done.

She then grabbed me and tried to yank me from my seat. I held on tight and thankfully didn't fall off. Now, enter my savior. The middle-aged man nearby stood up and started defending me. Him: WILL YOU SHUT UP YOU DUMB COW?!? Her: WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO?!? Him: (with ice-cold voice) Stop assaulting other passengers or I will be forced to step in. Also, every dumb moron could see that the dude has cancer.

Her: NO, HE'S JUST A GANGSTER. Him: He's got NO EYEBROWS, YOU MORON. Seems like that REALLY offended her, because she spun around on the spot and threw a falcon punch in the guy’s face. I was shocked and in disbelief. The whole bus was flabbergasted, and the kid probably wished he'd never been born. The man then said something unbelievable and a golden karmic moment followed.

Him: Ok, that does it. Harassing passengers on the bus, physical assault against a passenger, and now assaulting an officer. You're in deep trouble lady. She then pulled out a badge and told her to stay where she was. Then he pulled out his phone, called someone, and told her she was being detained. I couldn't believe it, he was a bloody officer.

At this point, she was as white as a wall. The bus had just come to a stop, so she decided she'd make a run for it, but other passengers blocked her way. She then also got charged with resisting thanks to this. Three stops later, a patrol car was waiting for her. The kid told me he was sorry for his mother's behavior and I felt really sorry for him.

He wasn't a bad child, but his mother was a demon. The officer then talked to me and asked me if I wanted to press charges, to which I gladly said yes. He took a statement and thankfully was kind enough to let me solve everything on the phone, so I didn't have to come to the station for questioning. In the end, she got some time behind bars, I think it was a few months and some community service.

I, in return, got a good story to tell and the sweet taste of instant karma. Right now, I'm riding the same bus home, as I just got back home from the hospital after a check-up, which reminded me of this. I should also note that the surgery went well, and I was declared cancer-free in November. My hair is slowly returning. Also, I don't need to wear a wig anymore.

BigusSpekus

3. Sit Down, Lady

I saw this today and I can't stop laughing. I was traveling in my city’s metro. It wasn't too crowded at that time, but all the seats were occupied. Still, you could freely stand without being humped by a stranger. There was this kid sitting in the reserved seats—the ones for people with handicaps, pregnant women, and old people, definitely not for moms of two-year-olds.

He was probably 14 or 15 years old. He is the hero of the story here. At one, our entitled mother comes in. She has this cute little child who was trying to keep up with his mom's pace. She instantly sees our hero sitting at the reserved seat and just stares at him. I guess this was her way to make people automatically give away their seats or something.

The kid didn't move, though. This probably irked her a lot I guess, because she moved towards the kid with heavy steps. She comes near him, stops, and again does the stare. The kid doesn't budge. Then she starts screaming. If she didn't have the whole compartment’s attention earlier, she had it now. She starts berating the kid for sitting in a reserved seat and not giving it to someone more deserving like a mother.

I don’t know what her logic was. The seats aren't reserved for them anyways. She just keeps shouting and screaming and tries to get others’ opinion on it, and for a while, people were on her side. Then the kid, out of nowhere, rolls the right side of his jeans up, detaches his artificial leg, and keeps it in front of her. The look on her face was priceless.

She just backed away silently and got off on the next stop. I don't think that it was her stop.

WhatTheHeck431

4. Make Yourself At Home

I have two young adult children living at home, ages 18 and 19. They both work and go to college. I trust my kids, and I trust their decision-making skills. When they graduated high school and turned 18, new rules went into place. No curfew, just call me and let me know if you are going to be out all night so I don’t worry. You can call me at any time for a pick up, no questions asked, just don’t be stupid and drink and drive.

Yes, your significant others can sleep over or come over for the weekend, just let me know what’s going on. Pay a small rent during the summer when you are working full time and pay your part of the car insurance. You have your chores, I have mine. We all work together. I tell them if they aren’t being jerks and they listen, in turn, I listen to them.

There is very little fighting or arguing in my house. This is their time to spread their wings and learn how to be a responsible adult and have me as a safety net. Lately, one of my kid's boyfriends has been spending a lot of time over at my house. He is here pretty much all the time. Two days ago, I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize and when I answered it was my daughter’s boyfriend’s mother. And she…was a real piece of work.

Me: Hello? Her: You need to tell my kid he isn’t allowed over to your house anymore!!! Me: Who is this? Her: This is “Tommy’s” Mother!!!!! Me: (I already know where this is going) OH! Tommy’s mom! I have to say you have raised a great kid! He is always polite and respectful. In fact... Her: LOOK! I don’t care WHAT you think about my kid!! He is never at home!! He isn’t spending any time with meeee!

Me: Okay? There isn’t much I can do about that... Her: Yes there is! Tell him he can’t come over to your house anymore!!! I WaNt HiM hOMe!!! AND YOU!!!! YOU SET A BAD EXAMPLE FOR MY SON!!! YOUR DAUGHTER HAS NO CURFEW AND I AM SICK AND TIRED OF HEARING HOW nIcE IT IS AT YOUR HOUSE! I miiisssssss him and want him home!!! Me, speaking very low and basically growling into the phone: Are you done yelling at me?

Her:......... ( I think I stunned her into silence) Me: I will take that as a yes. Do you trust the way you raised your son? Her: What??? Me: It’s a simple question. Do you trust the way you raised your son??? Her: OF COURSE I DO!!! What does that have to do with anything??? Me: Do you trust him to make good decisions? Her: YES!!! Yes of course. (She is starting to calm down now)

Me: Mother to mother, I know things are not okay at your house right now (her husband drinks a lot). I am trying to give your child a safe place when things are not okay at your house. (She starts to cut me off at this point but I won’t let her) It’s not your fault. Her: ....... Me: He throws your son out for days at a time sometimes, doesn’t he?

Her: Yes (I can hear her choking back the tears) Me: Do you need someone to talk to? Would you want to go out to lunch? That way you can feel safer knowing whose house your son is at and that he is safe? Her: That would be ok. We were on the phone for about an hour after that. What started out as an entitled mother was just a scared woman feeling very, very alone.

Sorry there wasn’t any righteous retribution, but I think it turned out ok. I am going to try and get 19-year-old Tommy’s curfew changed from 10 pm to midnight and maybe he can stay over for a weekend.

Karma_Cookie

5. The Good Father

I used to work in a small chain of bookstores/stationery shops. We’d sell books, pens, paper, and so on. It was a quirky little store, straight out of a romantic love novella. This happened a few years ago and I’m reconstructing it from my memory. This entitled mother walks into the store with her little girl. It’s rather early in the morning.

The mom looks around and asks me if I could watch her child. Me: “Oh no, I’m terrible with children, sorry". She tells me that it’s not for that long and I shouldn’t be such a fuss about it. I still politely refuse. It’s not my job to watch children, and I’m afraid to do something wrong. What happens? She leaves the store, and who do I find hidden in the corner?

The little girl who seems to be rather shy and fearful. This happened back in a time before everyone had smartphones. The kid obviously didn’t have a mobile on her, and I suspected the mother also wouldn’t. Wasn’t too surprised that the girl didn’t know the number of their landline, either. I sigh. What are you gonna do? If something happens to that kid while being in the store and you being the only present employee, you’re gonna have a bad time.

I introduced myself, and asked her name. She told me it in full. Now this rang a bell. I had a good customer with the same surname. It turns out that it’s her dad. I didn’t get paid enough to babysit. In fact, I didn’t even get paid enough to do my normal work. I call her dad at his workplace since we saved that number in our system. The call went along those lines:

Me: “Hi, it’s bookstore XY". Him: “Oh hi, how’s it going? I don’t remember having any open orders". Me: “Yeah, erm, look, listen, do you have a daughter?” Him, confused: “Yes why do you ask?” When he finds out the story, he quickly apologizes for the woman’s behavior and tells me he’s gonna pick the kid up as soon as possible.

While waiting for him, I picked up one of our sale books, which was a picture book from Disney. The girl tries to read a little, I read a little. The dad arrives, and the girl runs to him and hugs him, crying that mommy was mean to her. The dad soothes her and thanks me for babysitting her. He gives me a bottle of red and buys something small from the store.

Him: “If the mom shows up again, could you not tell her that I picked up our daughter?” Me: “What. Why?” Him: “If you don’t feel like it you don’t need to. It’s rather complicated and you already did so much for us". He leaves. In the evening, the mother shows up. Just to point out—she dropped the girl at about 09:00.

It was 5:45. A whole freaking day. Her: “Where’s my daughter?” This is where I get my revenge. Me: “Your WHAT?” Her: “My daughter. I dropped her in this store and you were here". Me: “YOUR WHAT?” Now she was on the edge. Thus I did what I thought was the smartest thing to do. Me: “A guy came into the store and picked her up. He seemed nice. Gave me some gifts for her".

At this point I expected her to attack me, but she just left the store. A few weeks pass and the dad and girl come to the store, both happy to see me. The dad asks me if I’ve got a few minutes. An excuse not to work? Obviously I took the time for…customer service. I gave the girl the same book we read the last time and had a talk with him.

The whole story was a doozy. The mom and dad were in the middle of a divorce when she dropped the girl at our store. One of the reasons he wanted a divorce was because the mom “wasn’t nice” to the girl. Now, in my country as a man it’s rather hard to get custody for your child. No matter what. So the mom dropping the girl in our store was a gift of the heavens.

The dad took the daughter to his sister’s overnight, and the mom pretended that she was sleeping at one of her friend’s. The dad wanted to call them just to ensure that she is fine. When he did and the friend didn’t know where the girl was (obviously), the dad faked panic and involved the authorities. Meanwhile, the mom starts insisting that the friend must have kidnapped the girl.

The dad had proof of it being otherwise since he already called the authorities when he dropped his daughter at his sister’s house. In court, the dad apparently said something like, “She can have all she wants, even my wine collection. I just want to be with my daughter". The daughter ended up with him, with the mother paying alimony.

When the mother dropped the daughter off at my store, she was shy, seemed small, and now she has such a big smile on her face and is curious about everything. She seemed like a bird taking off to fly towards the sun. I absolutely hated my job, but situations like these make me a little bit nostalgic.

ProfessionalDish

6. Queen Of The Karens

Long ago, I worked for one of those bulk warehouse club stores. My trade was simple: I was a wrangler of the silver buffalo, and dutifully retrieve the ol' shopping carts I did. The job in and of itself wasn't the worst I'd ever had; I got plenty of exercise, got to be outside, and generally didn't have to interact with the “members” (calling them customers was taboo) for the most part.

For the most part. The thing about this job is that the company I worked for had a reputation for being cheap. Thusly, more often than not, I was on my own out in the parking lot. "Big whoop," you might say. "You gathered carts? You should see how hard MY job is!" Yeah, well... Shut up. This is my story, jerk-o. I digress.

The reason that being alone sucked is that this store didn't have just one kind of cart. Heck, they didn't even just have TWO kinds of carts. You had your classic garden variety cart, the kiddie-cart with the plastic facade to make it resemble a car, the electric scooters (which weren't supposed to leave the store, but did so with alarming frequency), and finally, the bulky, hard-to-control flatbeds.

On top of that, whenever someone needed help loading their haul into their minivans, I was the guy they called. You know, because the greeters, cashiers, and managers were all busy. As you might expect, one man cannot be in multiple places at once, and as a result, on some of our busier days, it became incredibly difficult to keep enough carts in the vestibule. Our story begins on one of these days...

So there I was, chugging along like a good worker drone, struggling to keep up with the sheer volume of people coming in to buy cheap bulk goods. Sure enough, I get a call on the radio: Manager - "[sktchh] We need you to help some members load their purchases. [sktchh]" Me - "Uh, I'd love to, but I'm barely able to keep up out here as is..."

Manager - "[sktchh] Just do it. You can afford to stop gathering carts for two minutes. [sktchh]" *Ron Howard voice* - "He couldn't". However, I didn't want to push my luck, so I complied. After spending 20 minutes loading people's purchases because when one person needs it, suddenly they ALL need it, I came back to find my vestibule a near-ghost town, save for a single line of carts that was half-gone, and...the Karen.

I won't waste time describing this specimen. She was the prototype. You know what she looked like. There she stood, menacing, tapping her foot with such speed that it could make any metal drummer green with envy. You could collect the contempt in her gaze in a jar. Karen - "Where are the big flat ones?" I blanked for a moment. Me - "I'm sorry?"

Karen - "Ugh. Mexicans..." For the record, I'm very much white. Karen - "WHERE. ARE. THE. FLAT ONES". Me - "Oh, you mean the flatbeds. I'm sorry, I was just helping some other members load their merchandise and haven't had a chance to—" Karen - "OH MY GOD, I don't care about your excuses, you have ONE JOB, and a TRAINED. MONKEY. Could do it!"

I just want this lady out of my face, so I don't fight it. Me - "Sorry ma'am. I'll grab one from the parking lot for you..." Karen - "You'd better..." So I go back out to the lot and find a whole line of flatbeds sticking out of a corral blocking several parking spaces. I push them all into the vestibule where she waits, huffing about how I'm wasting her valuable time.

I separate one from the rest and bring it to her. Me - "I'm terribly sorry about the wait, ma'am". She leers at me with utter malice. Karen - "Hmmph. Unbelievable..." And with that, she dismisses herself into the store, where she will be someone else's problem. I shake my head and return to doing what I'm paid to do. I wish I’d never seen her again…but I did.

About 15 minutes later, I'm returning a line of carts when I see her pushing her flatbed to her Miata and jawing about “stupid people” (most certainly referring to me) on her cell phone. You know what she had bought? What she had insisted on having a flatbed for? A cake. This wasn't even like, a big cake. It was one of those little circular numbers.

Anyways, I witness as she continues to yammer on about how I nearly ruined—RUINED I TELL YOU—her precious baby's birthday party, when the most glorious thing happened. Still clutching her phone with those jai-alai scoop claws of hers, she attempts to pick up the cake with one hand, the plastic topper pops off, and she spills the cake all over her undoubtedly expensive designer outfit.

Seething with white-hot rage, she locks eyes with me. Karen - "YOU! GET ME ANOTHER CAKE! NOW!" Me - "Terribly sorry ma'am. I've got one job, and these carts won't gather themselves". I walked away, grin plastered on my face as her shrieks faded into the distance behind me. I've had my share of nasty customer interactions before, but this one...Really took the cake.

Top_Gorilla17

7. A Light At The End Of The Tunnel

I am a 28-year-old woman who just recently went fully blind. When I was a teenager, I volunteered with my local youth group to help rebuild Mississippi after hurricane Katrina, and while down there I picked up a fungal parasite called Histoplasmosis that, over a decade, migrated to my eyes and slowly caused blindness. I've been totally blind for about a year now, so I'm pretty new to it.

When I first went blind, I barely left the house and was afraid to go in public. I felt like everyone was staring at me and in all honesty, I barely knew what I was doing. The transition had been difficult and I didn't have any support group to teach me. One day my husband asks if I can take an Uber down to the bank and deposit a rent check and I reluctantly agree.

While out, he messages again and reminds me that we're out of a few crucial groceries. There was a Wal-Mart grocery literally across the street from the bank, so I figure everything in life is an experience and I'll have to learn how to shop alone eventually, so why not. Everything was fine at first and I was only grabbing a few things so I didn't need a cart.

I was using my cane and what little echolocation skills I had at the time to get around, but was still bumping into things as we blind tend to do sometimes. My cane suddenly hit something a bit softer and I figure maybe I had whacked someone's leg and apologize. Cue Entitled Kid (EK) and Entitled Mother (EM). Me: Shoot, I'm sorry—

EM: Hey! You just hit my son!! Me: I'm so sorry, ma'am, I didn't see him there. EM begins yelling: HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE HIM, HE'S CLEARLY RIGHT HERE!! Now, again, I'm fully blind, but I don't wear sunglasses. Mostly because I can’t afford a good UV blocking pair, but also I'm not ever looking for pity or to ''play the part'' of a generic blind person.

I just want to be treated like a normal person, but I do understand her confusion as blindness is a spectrum, so I try to calmly explain. Me: Ma'am, I'm blind, I can't see anything, let alone your son. That's why I have to use the cane, so I can get around without— She cuts me off: If you're blind, why aren't you wearing big sunglasses?

As a blind person, I get a lot of stupid questions, but I understand a lot of them are just people who don't know better, so I try to happily answer as many as I can. Me: Those are really expensive (around $200 for a good pair), and I really don't need any inside. Here is where my blood starts to boil. EM: You're not blind, you're faking it!

I can't think of any reason someone would want to pretend to be blind, and nothing makes me angrier more than when someone calls me a liar when I'm not. Just as I'm about to respond, I feel a tug and before I blink, I realize this little demon spawn has snatched my $100 cane from my hands. For those of you who don't understand, that's like if you're shopping and suddenly the power goes out and you can't see a single light.

Without my cane, I can barely move at all without crashing into anything. My voice gets shaky as I begin to panic: Please give that back! I REALLY DO NEED IT!! EM: No you don't, you liar. My son deserves to play with this more than you! I hear her shuffle away and my expensive cane cracking into metal displays and such as they leave.

I start crying and waving my arms in front of me to grab onto something, anything, and end up crashing and falling into a center aisle display, making a loud scene. I somewhat curl into a ball and cry. I'm alone in public, in the dark, and I had no idea what to do. Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder and a man's voice. We'll call him AG for awesome guy.

He asks if I'm okay and to stay right here. I do, but begin to at least sit up and listen. This man must have been tall and built like a tank because his footsteps sounded like a giant and I felt a suction of wind when he took off. Maybe about 30 or 40 feet away, I hear this loud bellowing like an angry lion and a loud crash, then before I know it the man is back and helping me to my feet.

He takes my hand and puts my cane into my palm and helps me pick up the items I dropped when I fell into the display. Me wiping tears from my cheeks: Thank you, thank you so much, I didn't know how to handle that. AG: Don't worry about it, some people are just monsters. This guy restored my faith in humanity and even helped me finish shopping and helped me out of the store.

As we're leaving, I can hear the familiar screeching of EM, something about AG grabbing the cane and pulling hard, flinging her little devil child into a shopping cart. I don't know if she was exaggerating or not but it would explain the crash I heard. It's easy to feel alone in a world without sight, but even through the sheer terror of being stripped of my cane, at least I know now that there are people willing to stand up for me when I need it.

HecateNocturne

8. A Beautiful Thing

So, back in high school one of my closest friends got pregnant and gave birth to the sweetest baby boy. She stopped going to school for a while to take care of her kid, but still did online school so she could graduate with her class. One thing we would do is go to one of the local food places near the high school on Fridays. On this particular day, we decided to go to this nice Chinese place that I frequent regularly.

The little old Asian lady knows me by name. This Chinese place has a sticker on the front door that says something like "Breastfeeding will always be allowed," which is great since that's what my friend is more comfortable doing for her baby. After we ordered our food, we hung out in this little waiting area when the baby gets all fussy.

She takes out the little cover and covers her baby and her chest as she starts to feed him. We keep talking until this woman and her son, who had to be around 10, comes in. I recognize the kid as one of the kids I looked after when I use to volunteer at a youth center. He comes up to me and starts talking to me, and then asks my friend what she’s doing with the baby.

Before my friend could answer, the boy’s mother cuts in. "A disgusting thing is what she’s doing. Don’t you know better than to do that in public? And why are you even doing that if you're only a kid?" My friend has an attitude sometimes, so I try to jump in before she would start to throw things. "It’s not disgusting, and the owner, Mrs. L is fine with it. She has a sticker on the door".

Mrs. L was just ogling the baby a second ago. She smiles at us and continues to write some stuff down. The mother wasn’t happy about this and continues with her rant. "I'm sorry but I'm just not okay with a baby breastfeeding another baby. Can you please just stop," she says in frustration. Mrs. L finally cuts in and in her broken English, she says, "Nursing baby is a beautiful thing. You have problem, you leave".

She then taps the order on the window that leads to the kitchen and apologizes to my friend for the woman’s nasty behavior. She then looks at the boy who is still next to me and says jokingly, "Your mother, she dummy right?" This makes the boy laugh and the mother just grumble in her seat, trying to stay as far from us as she could.

When my friend finished and we grabbed our food, Mrs. L threw in an extra order of egg rolls, since they were my friend’s favorite.

LyteRay1943

9. Eat My Dust

I recently had an emergency appendectomy, and recovery has been slow. I had to take time off from my own athletics, but worse, from coaching in the kid’s sports program I’m involved with. The experience made me step back and realize I really built my whole identity around being active and healthy, so the hit my physical abilities took as a result of being sick and the healing process has made me feel lost.

I’ve been working to regain the joy I used to experience from exercise, without going “Oh, you used to be so much faster with that,” or “Your technique used to be so much stronger,” or “You don’t fit in anymore,” or whatever else and just enjoy myself regardless of the level I’m at. But ironically, the anxiety about not being able to do what I used to has made regaining those abilities difficult.

It made me self-conscious about exercising in public spaces, but I was starting to finally get over it as friends convinced me the source of the concerns was all in my head. There’s no way to get back to it other than training, so despite the anxiety, I started running again, as soon as the doctors approved it. I went to the local track and just did a few slow laps each morning, building up speed every few days.

I’ve only just been authorized to add some sprints and bodyweight strength training to the mix. Occasionally there were other people at the track, but I didn’t really notice because I run with headphones on and try to zone out in these lighter sessions. But little did I know, my friends were wrong. It was not all in my head. I was being watched, and more than that, I was being judged.

This was my absolute catastrophe-level worst nightmare at this stage of building back my strength and speed. On Friday, I was setting up for practice at the kid’s program and the head coach asked me into his office because a parent had a complaint. A parent I didn’t know too well, Karen, was there and he said she had specific complaints about me.

I was a bit nervous, as anyone is being called to meet with their boss over a complaint, but I figured it was a classic case of “My kid should start more,” or “I know my kid tried out as a midfielder but I want him/her to switch to defense,” that kind of “rules don’t apply to me” thing. But instead, I sit down in the office, and Karen is playing my boss a video of me running on the track.

That she filmed from afar; it’s surrounded by stadium-style risers. I was horrified, both because no one is ever totally used to seeing themselves on video, and because I was just embarrassed about how slow I was. But most importantly because why was a virtual stranger (I’d met her personally maybe four times, ever) filming me while I ran on my own time at a private facility?

She then went on to explain that her eight-year-old son, one of the players on my squad, was lapping me in the video. She was insisting the coaches need to hold themselves to higher athletic standards than the young players if they want to prepare them for college teams. (Again, her son is eight.) Apparently, her son would sometimes be running on the track while her older child was practicing on a nearby field.

I never noticed, the kid is still relatively new, and again, I don’t pay much attention to the other people on the track. My boss patiently but firmly explained to Karen that my physical abilities are not the parents’ concern, and all personnel are closely managed by the head coaches who understand each unique situation and what’s appropriate, and that her son wouldn’t be impacted.

But she didn’t stop there. Karen then went on to say my being out of shape was probably connected to why I’d been taking so much time off lately. Uh... technically yes, it is, because I was in the hospital. She was complaining that the personnel changeover isn’t good for the kids. My boss again reiterated that the head coaches hadn’t changed or taken any time off and that I was still one of the most skilled in the area I instruct, so this was not her concern.

She asked if there was someone else she could speak to, but he explained that he was the owner and founder of this program, so, no there was not. I knew my boss was intentionally avoiding saying what had happened to me or even alluding to a health issue, to protect my privacy, but I figured maybe being transparent with her would show her how ridiculous she was being—and keep her tuition dollars in our program.

But when I explained, she just turned to the boss and said, “Well maybe you should furlough her until she’s healed and bring on a healthy coach in the meantime, because my son needs someone out there who can keep up with him". My boss respected what I was trying to do, but made clear we weren’t going further with that strategy to avoid setting a precedent of sharing coaches’ personal circumstances.

Telling her why people take time off or what their health status may be is not her concern because the program manages that and makes appropriate decisions. She kept kicking up a fuss, but the coach finally told her he had to get back out on the field, back to her son and everyone else’s kids. She started physically leaving but continued fussing about how she was not satisfied and would not be recommending us to other parents.

Pro tip—this is not the way to conduct yourself with the people who make recommendations to scouts concerning family culture/team interaction. The coach wasn’t preparing to leave, instead, he stopped her in her tracks to tell her if she was found to be surveilling or otherwise harassing any staff members again, she would be perma-banned from the program.

No games or practices, no team social events, no presence in our buildings, and no clemency. So, that was pretty satisfying. Her son is a good, average, kid and I’m glad the consequences were focused on booting her out rather than limiting his opportunities to have fun playing. So then we went out and had a great, happy, safe practice.

This was still a pretty upsetting event for me personally though, and I’ll never unsee that discouraging video of me running, but it was ultimately reassuring to know the other staff has my back. Leaving Karen in the dust is just another step on my road to recovery!

DashingMadison

10. Playing Favorites

My fiancé and I have been together for eight years and engaged for three. I was doing my PhD program and was juggling planning the wedding. My fiancé took much of that work, but it was perfect because our dream venue was booked until after my graduation, so what we did is book our dream venue three years in advance.

It is really a beautiful venue, and the only slot we got was September of this year. My sister got engaged a few months ago to her fiancé. They were planning on having a spring wedding next year. They had no venue lined up, but had a few vendors lined up as well as a set date. Yesterday, our parents invited us and our significant others to a family BBQ, where my sister announced to our extended family that she is expecting.

Everyone was so happy for her and my brother-in-law, who is a great guy. My Nan asked my sister if the wedding was still on the set date or if they were going to wait. because of the baby. She said no, that she hoped to move it to September. No big deal for us. We don't have many out-of-town guests, so they could attend both weddings no problem.

Nan was happy and asked my sister if she needed help planning such a short notice wedding. This is where the horror started dawning on me. My sister then turns around and says, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I was really, really hoping we could kinda, like, take your venue? I really cannot stress myself too much with planning a wedding while going to maternity classes. And I think it is so beautiful! It would really mean a lot to me".

It went silent, but everyone was looking at me expecting me to say, "Yes of course everything for my little sister!" My brother-in-law looked very uncomfortable and told her that they had talked about this and that it was not okay to put me on the spot. But my sister just said, “Don't be like that! My sister wants to do what’s best for me, so it’s no big deal right?"

I just said "Well, it kind of is. I don't know. I have my heart really set on the venue". Cue the crying. She stormed off. My family’s reaction infuriated me even more. Nan told me that I was being selfish because she needed the venue more than I did. I tried to defend myself and my mother said, “You waited three years already. Would it have hurt you to wait a few more months? When has your sister ever asked you for something?" A few comments later, my fiancé got really mad and we left.

Later, my sister called me crying and said that it was unfair that I always get what I want and that I could have done this one thing for her. Dad said it is just a venue and what matters is the person who you are marrying. He is kind of right...but we have been planning for so long. My fiancé is furious with my family and doesn't even want my sister to come. Now my family is threatening not to come because I am being selfish and my sister needs it more than me because having a baby is too stressful.

My brother-in-law called me and apologized for the inconvenience. He told me he had discussed it with my sister and she had told him she would not ask. He is properly mad with her now and warned me that my sister is blaming me for "potentially ruining her marriage". My father has sent me about five texts along the lines of, "I hope you are happy. Your sister hasn't stopped crying since yesterday" and so on and so on.

My fiancé and I have decided to boot my sister from the bridal party and replace her with my aunt, who is the only family member that took my side. We have not decided whether or not we will invite my family as a whole. Furthermore, my mom took it upon her to tell on us. She called my fiancé’s parents and told them that it would be best if my sister gets it because she is pregnant.

My future father-in-law told them to screw off and basically ripped my mom a new one for expecting something so ridiculous. He said they were going to lose me if they kept playing favorites. So my mom is now crying too and saying that my father-in-law is a jerk. This is just getting so pathetic. It seems straight out of a bad soap opera. And then it practically became a soap opera.

Sometime after this, and after hearing I was upset about her selfishness and posted this story on the Internet, my sister started contacting me again and saying I was being unfair. That she is family and that she asked it nicely because she loves me. She also underlined the fact that the opinion of internet strangers doesn't count because family is more important and I should focus on making my family happy.

The only text I sent back was this. I am sorry that you perceived it that way. I did not in any matter distort what happened. As you might notice I didn't describe your tone nor exaggerated anything. Perhaps you have that night different in your mind than I do, but I digress. I am sick and tired of bending to your will. My whole life I have been your servant and your doormat.

Remember all the birthdays I had to share with you because you would throw a tantrum because you didn't get presents? Or when you cried so that I would fill out job applications for you? But the thing that has hurt me most till now is when you ruined my graduation. I am done. I admit that I also spoiled you but I will not any longer.

If you want to marry so bad before your baby is born, then you could look at [hotel x] that offers last-minute weddings. I have spent too much time planning MY wedding to gift it to you. And if you want to ruin our relationship over this, then go ahead. I will sleep sound and safe knowing that it wasn't my fault. She only sent me a “Wow...You must love me so very much".

And blocked me. She unblocked me this morning to send me a supposed message from MY wedding planner talking about rebooking the venue. Throughout this, my parents haven't actually written me since the thing with my father-in-law. My older brother contacted me and wanted to know what happened because he got a weird story from mom and dad.

Mom had told him that previous to the BBQ, I had offered to give up the venue to my sister and that I humiliated her on the day—my brother wasn’t at the BBQ. I told him what really happened and he had no problem believing me. We talked a lot about our parents’ behavior and he confessed that his moving far away was partly due to our parents being jerks to us.

He told me that mom was mad at me for betraying my family. I haven't written my parents because I have to come to terms with the fact that they love my sister more than me, if they love me at all. Anyway, we continued with OUR wedding. We put passwords with the majority of our vendors and also with the venue directly. We didn't talk to our planner yet, which is why my sister’s text worries me so much.

Also, we canceled the catering that my parents paid for. So short-term, we won't be able to get full catering like we wanted to. But all our friends and my fiancé’s family will help us prepare a buffet, and everyone is going to chip in. That will be our bachelor party. As we will have to spend more on our food now, we canceled our bachelor parties and will have a family and friends cooking session.

We called my planner and she was actually really horrified. She told me she never had as much as talked to my mother or sister since the day we went to book the venue. She assured me that even if they were to call and say that I wanted to give it to my sister, I had to be present to make any changes. So we informed everyone that will work for us on our wedding and they offered to hire security for that day at a reduced price.

I am finally realizing just how awful my family is. I will try to sort it out. If they apologize from the bottom of their hearts, they will be allowed into my wedding, but if not...Then well...I still have my brother, who will be walking me down the aisle, and my aunt.

paperweightfairy

11. Misplaced Anger

Yesterday afternoon, I got a call from my older brother and he told me that my mom had a miscarriage. This is hardly surprising, as she's in her 40s. But I have a dark confession. I actually felt a huge wave of relief wash over me—because this way, my siblings' lives would not be worsened by my parents' insistence on adding another mouth to feed on an already tight budget.

My sister would not be asked to give up her inheritance so they could have money for their new baby. My brother told me my mom had been crying and while I did feel bad for her, I was still glad to hear about the miscarriage. I feel like we all dodged a huge bullet. My brother asked me to move back in for a while, to help comfort my mom.

I told him I wasn't going to move in because first, my college would reopen in a few days, and two, I'm done with all the family drama. However, I did agree to come to visit my mom, if only out of courtesy. In the evening, I went over to my parents' place. I took chocolate chip muffins for my mom, which I know she likes. My sister greeted me at the door and told me mom had been in bed all day.

After greeting my dad, I went into their bedroom. Mom was sitting up on the bed. I told her I was sorry about what happened and placed the muffins on the bedside table. Her reaction floored me. She looked at me angrily, then threw the muffins at me. She screamed at me that she had "lost her baby" because of me. She said I had caused her stress and it's what caused her to miscarry.

She said I was probably glad her baby was gone (which is true, but of course I didn't point that out). She called me a witch and said I had wished this upon her. She was screaming so loudly, all my siblings and my dad came rushing to the bedroom. She yelled at me to get out. I did. I hugged my older brother and sister. Before I left, my dad told me my mom was right, that my "cruelty" caused her to miscarry.

I told him that was a grossly unfair accusation and reminded him that at mom's age, it was quite common to miscarry. Then I walked out. I'm so done with my parents and their stupidity. I can only hope they won't try for another kid.

DCholic_19

12. Child’s Play

My company sets up a booth at a carnival and we engaged several part-timers to assist at the carnival. The part-timers are required to go around the grounds to distribute flyers, share information, and direct visitors to our booth. On the day of the carnival, after setting up, I met up with the part-timers to prepare them for the day.

Out of all the part-timers, only this one woman was late. She mentioned she would be 15 minutes late, but it was closer to an hour. As we couldn't wait, I briefed the others and deployed them for the day. When she arrived, she had her kid in tow, who was about five or six years old. Due to the nature of the job, we can't have her lugging her kid while working. She knew this.

Her: My husband couldn't handle the kid, so I had to bring her along. Me: I can't have you working with your kid. Her: It's not my problem. If you don't like it, get someone to watch over him. My colleague who was watching this unfold offered to watch over her kid. He was only required to help out during the start and end of the carnival, so was entirely free during the event.

I thought alright, since he was free. Colleague: I can watch over her, get her some food, watch some shows, play some games. But you'll need to pay me. Me: Whatever. But I'm not paying you for your time, only for the kid. Colleague (grinning): Sure. I was flabbergasted, but he told me not to worry—because he had an ingenious plan.

Once the woman started working, my colleague brought her kid systematically through every single booth throughout the entire carnival. It was the kid's dream come true and, I believe, her best day ever. Whatever she wanted to eat, my colleague bought. She saw a lot of the shows and won many prizes. Since my colleague had a staff pass, he didn't need to pay for the shows, only for the kid.

At the end of the carnival, when we were clocking the hours worked, the mother had the nerve to insist to be paid full even though she was late for almost an hour. She said that because of various reasons (mainly due to her kid), she would have been early. She was ranting and I didn't really pay any attention, but it was about how I will never understand as I don't have kids and how she deserves it because she was a mother.

My manager nearby winked at me and took over. He said he was very pleased with the day's sales and how we are very supportive of her and we should give kids the best. He told her not to worry about the hours she worked and she will be paid in full. After hearing this, not even a single thanks from this woman, she declared in a loud voice: "At least someone understands".

She had this condescending and victorious look on her face. Thankfully, It didn't last long. The sucker punch for her was that her kid spent roughly $100, and with her pay at $15/hr for 8 hrs, she made a whopping $20 for the whole day. My colleague made it a point to keep track of the expenses (receipts, tickets, stubs, etc.) and took tons of photos.

Of course, she threw a fit, but with the amount of evidence and her daughter vouching for all the fun she had, it was tough to have a leg to stand on. She had no case except to yell "I'M NOT PAYING FOR THIS!!" and then she grabbed her daughter and stormed off. We look forward to payday when we issue her a cheque for $20 for her time.

colleen-t

13. Fun For The Whole Family

This took place a couple of years ago, when I was 17 and I used to spend part of my summers helping out in my grandpa's restaurant. The restaurant was located on the bottom floor of our family house in a little village (30 inhabitants) and my maternal great-grandparents lived on the upper floor. In the restaurant, my great-grandmother and my grandma were in charge of cooking and my great-grandpa and granddad were in charge of attending the tables.

It was kind of small, as it had like eight tables of four on the inside, and we could set another two outside if the weather was good. As the restaurant also served as a bar, it was filled with locals. Since many of them were retired, they used to spend the whole day playing cards and drinking, so although it was a small location, in summer usually it was full of people.

Also, my great-grandparents founded this restaurant in the year 1941, therefore it was well-known and had a good reputation among the locals. I'm also proud to say that my great-grandparents were very loved in their community as they really were great people. Although it was a quite remote place, in summer we used to get like four or five groups of tourists per week.

The rule was that my brother and I were in charge of serving their tables as we were the only ones who knew any other language than Spanish, our native tongue. Our opening hours at the time were from 12:00 to 22:30 but the kitchen was only open from 13:00 to 15:00 and from 19:30 to 21:00. We only served one menu, composed of a starter, two main dishes, dessert, and cider or water.

So now the story. It was around 16:00, therefore most of the customers had finished eating and were chatting over a cup of coffee or some pints. My grandparents and great-grandparents were still eating as they waited until everyone was finished. Meanwhile, my brother and I were in charge of serving the tables just in case anyone wanted something else to drink.

Suddenly we hear a car outside, and I can hear a woman loudly speaking in English. As soon as they enter, this happens. Her: We would like to have a table, X from the Y Hotel told us this was a great place to eat. Me: I'm sorry ma'am, but the kitchen is already closed as it's kind of late. Her: Yes, it's late because we got lost in these stupid roads! Is it so difficult to put proper signals? Also, we have a little kid who is hungry.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, let me check If I can do something for you. I then went inside and explained the situation to my grandma, who told me to attend them as everything was already prepared and it would be just heating the food. Her: Well, are you going to give us a table or not? If the kitchen is closed, how is it that those people are eating.

At this point, she pointed at my grandpas. At the moment, I thought she was behaving like that because she was kind of hungry. I wasn't really used to dealing with rude people, as the majority of tourists used to be really respectful. Me: Well those are the owners, so they can eat whenever they want. (I said this while laughing a bit). Anyway, I have just asked them and you will be able to eat too, so please follow me to your table.

They follow me to the table and I explain to them that there is only one menu. They give me a strange look but they seem OK with that. I serve them the bread and I put a bottle of water on the table. They start devouring the bread so my "They were a bit rude cause they were hungry" theory seemed to be confirmed. I was so, so wrong.

As soon as I bring the starter, the dad demands to have the Wi-Fi password. Him: Hey, we see that there is a Wi-Fi network, what’s is the password? Me: Yes, there is one. However, the Wi-Fi is for the staff’s personal use. (We had a measured and reeeeally slow connection that my grandpa used for checking some newspapers and my brother and I used for sending Whatsapps to our friends). Him: That's ridiculous! We are paying customers and we deserve to have access to your Wi-Fi!

Mom: Yes, our little angel wants to watch some videos. We don't have any kind of internet access here! Me: Sorry, but as I have said it's for personal use. Mom: That's not right, this would be unacceptable in America. Me: Well, I'm sorry to inform you that we are not in America. The mom tells something to the kid and he starts running around the restaurant, stomping his feet and shouting

My great-grandpa comes to me and asks me what is happening, I explain the whole situation to him and he asks me to please translate what he is going to say. Him: Please lady control your child, or I will have to ask you three to leave. Her: DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY CHILD YOU DINOSAUR! Father: DON'T GET CLOSE TO MY CHILD YOU OLD CREEP! By this point, everyone is of course looking with disbelief to these morons.

I hesitate for a second, but translate all of this to my great-grandpa, expecting a not really nice reaction. Instead of saying anything, he slowly turns around and asks two men who are sitting at a table to take the whole family out of his restaurant. I proceed to explain to the family that if they don't get out, those two men, who also happened to be officers, would be taking them out.

They don't seem to believe that those two men were officers and they refused to leave until we served them. Finally, both men stood up, showed their plaques, and asked them (in their best English) to leave. They finally stand up and leave. However, as they were leaving the officers realized that they had parked in front of our garage, blocking it.

At that point, they decided to ask for their rental car papers while taking a couple of photos and giving them a fine for blocking a private property garage.

Chipotito

14. Something’s Fishy

I'm allergic to fish/seafood. It's not the anaphylactic type of allergy, thank goodness, so I'm not going to die if I eat some, but I do throw up, have a stomach ache, and a massive headache for a few hours. Enough fish/seafood and I break out in small red hives over my arms. My mother didn't believe it and as a child, I couldn't stand up to her properly.

She'd force me to eat stuff with seafood or fish in it to “prove” I wasn't allergic, then ignore me as I was sick. One day, she held a dinner party. I was dressed up beautifully and trotted out to parade before the guests. At the time, I was about nine, precocious for my age, and absolutely fed up with my mother making me sick from food.

When she held out a fish cutlet (fish cooked with vegetables, rolled into a ball, covered in batter and fried) for me to eat, I saw my chance. Me, loudly: "I can't eat that, I'm allergic to fish". Mother: "No, you're not. Eat it". Me: "I am allergic! I'll throw up!" No Asian mother will back down in front of guests for fear of looking like she can't discipline her child.

So my mother grabbed the fish cutlet, shoved it to my mouth, and said in her most firm voice of command, "EAT". So I ate it. Cut to about ten minutes later. I go up to my mother and tug on her sari to get attention. Me: "I don't feel well—" BARF. I vomited on her, on the expensive carpet, and in full view of all the guests. My mother has a reputation for being a kind, generous, charitable, and very religious woman, so in front of all the guests, she couldn't do anything except act sympathetic and send me off to bed to recover.

She never made me eat fish or seafood again.

Arkonsel

15. Adults Only

I attended an adult-only wedding for a co-worker a few days ago. The actual ceremony was in a very small church, so it was mostly family and close friends but the reception was for roughly 250 people. The reception was at a very elegant hotel ballroom. Not child-friendly in any way. Crystal stemware, expensive linens on the table, etc.

About 1/2 hour into the reception, a commotion started that made everyone stare. This entitled mother is arguing with the wedding planner loudly. Me being the nosy broad that I am, I inched closer to hear. It turns out this woman brought her four young children to the reception even though the invitations clearly stated Adults Only.

The entitled mother insisted that her kids—the oldest one looked eight and the youngest was under a year old—were super well-behaved so it was fine. Now keep in mind this was around 7:30 pm. The planner was having none of it. She insisted that children were not allowed and she had to leave. In a last ditch effort to get admitted, the mother shouted at the bride.

The bride went over and listened to her for a moment, and then said in a syrupy sweet voice, "Of course you can come in, but your children cannot". Then she turned on her heel and went back to her new husband. The mother flipped a nut, yelling about how she was invited, couldn’t find a babysitter, etc. Three of the groomsmen took her and her kids to the door.

frynnsk2001

16. What’s Mine Isn’t Yours

This happened about five years ago. My fiancée and I have been together for seven years this month. We were reminiscing about some old stories yesterday when this one came up, and she suggested I share it. She was my girlfriend at the time, and at the time I was fully aware that her mom was a few fries short of a happy meal, but this was the pinnacle of her behavior.

My girlfriend Ellie and I weren't living together at the time, she just stayed over from time to time when she could. I took her home after she had been staying with me a couple of days and was heading to work. But shortly after, just before getting to work, I get a phone call from her and I can tell she is in tears. Apparently, when she got inside her house, her mother immediately blew up on her about being gone for SOOO long.

It was only two days and she TOLD her mom she was going to be gone and kept in contact with her while she was gone. But Ellie just sort of brushed it off and went to her room. The house was pretty much your stereotypical crazy cat lady house. Badly decaying, cats all over the place, going to the bathroom in random places and whatnot.

When Ellie gets to her room, she realizes that while she was gone, the cats peed and pooped over a pile of her clean clothes. But whatever, Ellie decided to just bag them up and she would wash them next time she came to my place. Her mom didn't have a functioning washer at the time. Apparently, that REALLY set her mom off.

Her mom apparently thought Ellie was bagging her clothes because she was planning to go BACK to my place that night to stay another few days. So she stomped into her room, grabbed the bag, ripped it open, and flung the clothes all over the room along with the cat refuse while screaming at Ellie that she's not going anywhere. That's when Ellie ran outside and called me.

She was so upset and didn't know what to do. Her mom had been doing crazy stuff to Ellie since I'd been with her, but up until then I just helped her however I could while not getting involved and not saying a word to her mom. I told her to go ahead and get the things she needs, and I'll take her to my place. She said she would love that.

I told my work I was gonna be late due to an emergency, and turned around to go pick her up. When I pulled back up to the house, Ellie was in the driveway crying. I went and hugged her, told her it was gonna be ok and that she could stay with me as a long as she wanted. So she went back inside to get her things. As I was standing outside waiting, I heard the door open again and went to help Ellie with her things...uh-oh...it's her mom.

She comes stomping out with her hair crazy and frizzled, wearing an old nightgown. She beelines for me and gets right in my face. Her (with an extremely thick high pitched southern accent): My daughter said I need to come out here and ask what you think of me! (I knew that was a blatant lie as Ellie would NEVER instigate this.)

Her: You got something to say?? Huh?? You think I'm trash don't you huh?? That’s what you think, isn't it?? Again, up until now, I'd COMPLETELY kept my mouth shut, and was trying to maintain that. But this woman was up in my face, freaking out, and was tormenting the woman I loved, so I finally looked at her and broke my silence.

Me: Why do you treat her like this? Her: *GASP* WHAT DO YOU MEAN?? THAT’S MY DAUGHTER AND I WORSHIP THE GROUND SHE WALKS ON!!! Me: Oh really? So calling her names is worship? Her: *GASP* I WOULD NEVER SAY ANYTHING LIKE THAT! Me: (getting rather irate) Lies! I've HEARD you say things. Her: *EXPLOSION* YOU GET OFF MY PROPERTY!!!!!!!!

Ok, I almost never find myself in situations like this, so I'm not used to it. I say that because after she said this, I pretty much saw red. I'm not proud of it, but I just started shouting every curse word in the book I could possibly think of at the top of my lungs while she went back into the house. But thankfully, that only lasted a few seconds and I immediately calmed down.

So finally Ellie comes back out with her stuff. We put it in the car and I assume it’s over...but Ellie turns to me and says, “I'm sorry but we can't leave yet". Me: Why not?

Ellie: *Sigh* Mom called the authorities. I sort of had a feeling that would happen, no big deal. So we just sat and waited for the officer to arrive. After about 10 minutes or so, a patrol car pulls up.

Right when he does, her mom comes out of the house, and…Oh my god. Yes, she was doing EXACTLY what you think. She INSTANTLY puts on the fragile brittle old lady act. Hunched over, walking slowly, the whole gig. And of course, when the officer asks her what happened, she has to pitch her entire medical chart to the guy. Ellie will tell you this woman has been “terminally” ill for 12 years, ha.

So when she finally gets done trying to milk this poor guy for sympathy, she tells her version of what happened. Her: Sir, he came onto my property and verbally dug into me! He's awful to me sir and I've never even done anything to him! He's turned my daughter against me and is trying to convince her to leave!! At first, he seemed somewhat sympathetic to her...until he turns to Ellie.

Officer: Ma'am, this is your boyfriend? Ellie: Yes sir. Him: Ok, and how old are you? Ellie: Sir...I'm 23. This was my favorite part because the officer looked up from his notepad with a look of "Wait, what?" Obviously, he was thinking Ellie was a minor or something based on how her mother was acting, but quickly realized just what he was dealing with.

Eventually, he turns to me. Officer: Ok sir, please give me your version of what happened. I did so. Funny side note, at one point the officer looks up at me and says, Officer: You look really familiar...do I know you? It actually turned out the officer and I had gone to high school together. Once we recognized each other, we laughed and shook hands very briefly.

This was hilarious because out of the corner of my eye, I see the mom has a big scowl on her face as she sees me getting friendly with him. Anyway, the officer puts his notepad away and turns to me. He says the following with this heavy tone of "I know that you are fully aware of this and I don't believe you are in the wrong at all, but I have to say this as a formality".

Officer: Well, she doesn't want you on the property, so be aware that if you come back here you technically can be charged with trespassing. Do you understand this as I've explained it? Me: Absolutely sir. Mother: But sir, I want to press charges! Officer: He didn't do anything wrong, ma’am. Mother: But he verbally tore me apart!

Officer: I understand that, and while that was ill-advised (he slightly turns to me and gives me a small gesture with his hand, and I nod in agreement), it's not something I could detain him for. He agrees he will not come back on your property without your direct permission. Mother: Ugh! Ok fine, whatever! Ellie, come back inside!

Ellie: What? No! Mother: You heard the officer, he is leaving and you're staying here! Officer: Whoa, ma'am, I didn't say that at all. Mother: BUT...BU— Officer: Your daughter is not a child ma'am, she is a full-grown adult, and she has every right to go wherever she wants. Mother: I'm her mother! She lives under my roof! I told her she needs to stay here, so she needs to stay!!

Officer No ma'am, that’s not how it works. If she wants to go stay with her boyfriend, there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop her. She now starts the fake crocodile tears and stomps into the house in defeat. Ellie and I thanked the officer, got in the car, and left. We've been living together ever since. The best part of all is that this has a happy ending.

Believe it or not, the entitled mom isn’t really much of an entitled mom anymore. Over the years since that day, she has actually decided to make an effort to try and improve herself. I guess she realized that if she didn't make changes, she would lose her relationship with Ellie. So she started taking advantage of her medical coverage and went to see her psychiatrist and got medicine for the mental illness she actually had, as opposed to the ones she would make up.

Since then...well, she has actually gotten WAY better. She takes her medicine regularly and has a boyfriend who is an EXTREMELY kind man and treats Ellie as though she were his own daughter. We actually get along very well and we see them frequently, and we help each other out whenever we can. We actually look back on the early years when she WAS in fact entitled, and laugh.

So not only is everybody getting along well, we can actually share the cringe stories and happily laugh about them.

DerangedBehemoth

17. Grand Theft Grandma

I am currently pregnant with my first child, and both my mom and stepdad have been terrible to me and my partner the entire time. They told us we would be unfit parents because we aren’t married yet, and legitimately screamed at my partner for "knocking up their little girl" even though we planned the pregnancy. They would call him every day and harass him, and even show up to his work.

They try to convince him to leave me so I would have no choice but to move back in with them. It got worse as time went on, and I finally decided to cut contact with them. Having a child can already be a stressful time, and having them around to make it worse was not something I was okay with. My partner and I have gone through a lot with family drama the past couple of years and having this baby has been one of the most exciting things for us.

If my parents can’t be nice to my partner, then they don’t get to see our baby. One day I sent my mom a very detailed email of why she is not allowed to be a part of my life anymore and will not be seeing her grandchild. To make things even better, I also noted that we will be moving across the country shortly after she is born to be closer to other family members.

So not only is she cut off, but we are literally moving far away and never coming back. Her reply chilled me to the bone. She responds by showing up at our house at 11 pm, screaming outside our door about how it is her baby and she deserves to be there for it. I tell her to screw off and eventually, she leaves. Months go by and she will text me randomly asking about technical problems with her Wi-Fi router or something.

Little things like that don't mean much to me, so I sent her the info she needed. My cousin also had a virtual baby shower and sent my invitation to my mom’s house accidentally, so my mom came by to give it to me. Things slowly came to a point that we were fairly amicable with each other, but I still stood my ground about our boundaries and nothing else had changed.

She knew this. Then she sends me a video today that blew my mind. She redecorated her entire guest room to be a nursery. Crib, changing table, $400-worth of newborn clothes, toy chest, stroller, a car seat for her car, and the list goes on. In the video, she is in tears saying "I can't believe my baby is going to be here soon, this is where she will sleep, where I will change her little diapers, these will be her toys".

Is she psychotic!? HER baby?? Sleeping and living at HER house?? What!? So I call her up immediately and I reiterate that we are still moving across the country soon and that she will have no contact with the baby before that. Her response? "Oh okay, we will see about that!" Genuinely confused. What part of "you will have no contact with this baby" does she not understand or thinks will change in the next few weeks when she is born?

Is she planning on taking her from us? I am at a loss for words.

Morosa3

18. If You Know, You Know

I’m home from college, and my parents require me to have a summer job. I’m blessed enough that I get to keep all the money I earn, my parents just like me to work to gain experience. This will be relevant later, but I’m not a skinny girl. I wouldn’t consider myself large either, I’m 5’6” tall and weigh about 140-145 lbs. right now and carry most of it in my hips and thighs.

The freshman 15 did hit me hard though, as I used to be 120ish. So today after finishing my last online final, my dad called me. He told me that one of his friends who runs a company texted him that they were looking for girls to work in the office, answering phones and stuff. I got excited because that’s exactly what I wanted, so I put on a dress, printed a copy of my résumé, and drove down.

The ladies inside were super nice and asked me to fill out an application, so I sat down to do so. We’re in the South which might be relevant, because typically for jobs like this they’re looking for a “pretty face” to sit behind the counter and talk to customers. This is unspoken, though. Yes, it’s awful but hey, I needed a job. So, as I’m filling out an application, this entitled mom enters with her teenage daughter.

She announces that she’s here about the opening and her daughter would like to apply. The one receptionist explains that she’ll need to fill out an application and hands her one and a pen. They come to sit in the lobby, right beside me, which I thought was weird but I didn’t say anything. Mom (to me): “Are you here for the job as well?” Me: “Yes ma’am". Mom: “Hmph". You know, that little cocky sound people make? I ignored her and went up to ask the receptionist a question about the application.

When I returned and sat back down, the mother walked up to the desk. Mom: “Does my daughter even really need to fill this out?” Receptionist: “It’s protocol. The boss will look at all the applications and decide who to call for an interview". Mom: “Is he here? I’m sure if he could see my daughter, he’d know who he wanted to call, ha!”

Receptionist: “He is, but he isn’t seeing visitors right now". Mom: “How will he know who to hire if he doesn’t know what the girls look like?” Receptionist: “Well, he will need to see their references and will make a few calls before he—” Mom: “No. My daughter is an aspiring model. She won [insert local pageant] in 2019. He needs to see her to know she’s the face he wants to see behind the counter interacting with customers".

Receptionist: “I’m not sure what you mean? This isn’t a modeling job, looks don’t really matter...” Mom: “Oh I know, but they do. And let’s face it, your boss isn’t going to want” —at this point, she leans in closer— “a chubby girl up here, is he?” This whole time, the daughter is smirking at me in glances as she fills out her application.

This caught the attention of the second receptionist as well as me, and we both looked up at this point. Other receptionist: “Ma’am, I’m not sure I know what you mean". Mom: “Oh, no disrespect, I just know the boss personally and know he’d prefer a new pretty face around the office. Maybe I’m a little biased, but I think there’s no question between my daughter and, well, this young lady for example. No offense honey, just trying to save you some time".

At this point, I’m in tears. I don’t know if it was rage or the sting of her insult, but either way, I was NOT going to let her see me cry, so I quickly got up and handed my application to the first receptionist before trying to leave. Second receptionist (who is a plus-sized woman): “Sweetie, wait". (talking to me) (turning to the mom) “You say you know the boss personally, right?”

Mom: “Oh, yes, we went to high school together". Second receptionist: “And you know him so well that you know he’d prefer a skinny woman behind this desk?” Mom: “Well, I didn’t say that, but I’d assume so". This is when the hammer dropped down. Second receptionist: “Great. Well, I’m his wife and I’ve worked behind this desk for almost 15 years now, and as you can see I could probably drop a few, and I take personal offense to what you’re saying about my husband and this young lady, so I’d like you to wait in the car while your daughter fills out her application".

Both the mom and the daughter stormed out at that point, with the daughter taking her application, so I don’t know if she’ll apply or not. But, both women behind the counter told me that the mom was a witch and they’d vouch for me with the boss, so I’m hopeful that I got the job!

JoeBaskin

19. In The Dog House

So I’m a 20-year-old woman and I work as a dog groomer. I’ve been one for four, almost five years. The big thing in dog grooming is reputation, quality, and time management. Yesterday, we were expecting a girl to come in at 10:00 to try out as a dog groomer. She was promising, 23 or 25 years old, and had worked as a dog groomer at other places.

She didn’t show till 4:30. No call. No nothing. She apparently had a hair appointment and friends from out of town came in so they got their nails done. She asked if she could groom now. I said no, I don’t think so. When she pressed, I said (and I might be a jerk for saying this): “We don’t want or need you. There’s no need to reschedule your try-out".

I went back to get my last two dogs done. Apparently, she cried and I was starting to feel bad. Then came the entitled mother. Her mom came in this morning demanding we give her a second chance. I told her, “Your daughter was six and a half hours late. That’s not something that works in dog grooming". The mom replied, “She was with friends. I’d think someone your age would understand that".

Me: “Not when there’s a job interview. She didn’t call or anything". At this point, I was ticked and over it. I have five dogs to get done. She said, “Well, there was no reason to make her cry!” I said I disagree and got back to work. Apparently, she stayed up there and demanded we give her another shot. As head dog groomer I said, not gonna happen. She left eventually, saying her daughter was too good for us.

RussianAnnaB

20. Holy Roller

I'm in a DnD group with a couple of friends from nearby, and one of the members of the group was a kid who was about 15 years old. He's a really sweet kid, likes helping other people out, and he's a BIG fan of Dungeons and Dragons. He also has cancer in both of his lungs. He's from a religious family that basically forces him to act pure while he's in their sight.

The mom is practically rabid, while the dad is just a sensible person who just tries to get him to be a good kid. When he's out of sight of his parents, he just does normal teen stuff. Because of his mom, the only books he was allowed to own were Christian books and bibles. He joined our group mainly as a way to escape his home life and his mom.

A couple of weeks ago, the cancer in his lungs started to get to him, so he was taken to a hospital by his parents. He contacted me about this a day after he was taken to the hospital, stating that he wanted a Monster Manual as his last wish, and saying that he was tired of reading the same things. I bought him the book from Barnes and Noble, but considering that he's a dying teen, I got him Volo's Guide to Monsters and Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes stacked on top of that.

The next day, which was his birthday, he was still in the hospital, so I brought him the books as a gift. After he blew out the candles, we had cake and he started opening gifts. Mine was the first to be opened. Seeing what they were, he immediately got this humongous grin on his face and hugged me. Meanwhile, his mom stared down at the books with a look of pure disgust, with her husband staring at her with this wary look in his eyes.

She picks up one of the books, relights one of the candles, and HOLDS THE BOOK over it to try and set it on fire. I manage to stop her and demand "What are you doing?! He asked me to get those books and I'm not going to let you take them away!" His mom simply stared me down and said something along the lines of the books being “sinful,” “satanic,” and full of evil and that her son had no business with them.

I retort and say that her son can read what he wants and that she shouldn't have to force him to be Christian. She starts getting red in the face and yelling at me about essentially forcing children to believe in God from a young age. I state that I'm a Baptist (which I actually am) and say that faith in God is a matter between God and the individual.

She turns red all over and actively starts to try and destroy the books again, with me, my friend, and her husband trying to stop her. At one point, I shouted "WOULD GOD WANT YOU TO DO THIS? TO RESTRICT YOUR DYING SON'S FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION?!" right in her face. This just sets her ablaze. She tosses the books aside and starts trying to DESTROY her son.

Her husband calls security immediately when she does this. Security gets there within about a minute of the two of us trying to pry her off of her son and drag her away, with her shouting that we're all “catamites to the devil". Both her husband and my friend charge her with assault and attempted murder. The trial's still going.

Lightvsdark777

21. Meet Ugly

So for some context. I'm a 17-year-old male and I work at a Segway tour company. It's actually really fun, I get to ride Segways around the city and talk to people, and get paid to do it. So anyway, there was a tour booked a couple of days ago and I came in about 20 minutes early to answer emails and get everything ready. The group shows up, mother and daughter. That's when things get interesting.

I check them in. ME: Alright I have some waivers for you to sign. Daughter, how old are you? D: Uh, 16. ME: Ok, then you don't need to sign a waiver. I ask this because if kids are younger than 18, their parents sign the waivers for them, but the mom only heard me say the first part, not when I said the girl didn't need to sign a waiver, so she thought I was just asking her daughter how old she was.

This was probably what started it all. We go on the tour, and while I'm giving my spiel, the mom keeps interrupting me to tell me stuff about the daughter and find out if we are compatible. ME: ...and so this non-profit organization opened in— MOM: Are you in college? ME: No, I'm a junior in high school. I'm usually pretty free with information about myself on tours because it helps keep people relaxed and initiates conversations during lulls in the tour.

Plus it helps with tipping. MOM: Oh, my daughter is also a junior, she is an artist. Stuff like this keeps happening throughout the tour, and every time, the daughter gets redder and redder. My mom does this too where she just tells random mall attendants about me, so I know what the girl is going through and I feel her pain. At the end of the tour, I tell the two of them that they have 15 minutes to go around the town, and then they can meet me back at the Segway place.

I get back and start getting things set up for their return. They roll in (pardon the pun) and I take their Segways to start charging them. MOM: So what do you think of my daughter? ME: Pardon me, what? MOM: I saw you checking her out during the tour, are you gonna ask her out? D: Mom, stop! ME: Um, ma'am I just recently got out of a relationship and I'm really not looking for anything right now.

MOM: What!?!? ME: Huh? MOM: Is my daughter not good enough for you!? ME: No, that's not it, I just said that I just got out of a relationship. Then it all took a very wild turn. MOM: You are going to date my daughter and that's final! ME: You can't tell me what to do. I'm not your kid, and if I don't want to date your daughter, I don't have to! Besides, you haven't even asked her if she wants to date me.

D: Yeah, I don't want to date him. ME: SEE?!? MOM: I'm going to call your boss and tell him about your terrible customer service! You're never going to work here again! ME: (pulling out my phone) Alright, you want to call him and explain this situation? How you're trying to force me to date your daughter and get me fired for saying no?

Then I guess the absurdity of the situation finally sunk in, and her face transitioned from pure rage to slight confusion. MOM: Wait, maybe I don't want to— ME: No, let's call him. (Start to go through my contacts, and press my boss’s name). Let’s have this conversation. MOM: I don't think that's a good idea— (Phone starts ringing)

MOM: Daughter, let's go! She runs out the door, and the daughter turns to me and says "I'm sorry," and then follows her mom. I hang up the phone before my boss answers and start cleaning the Segways.

SocietalMember

22. Surf’s Up

I'm a surf instructor at a surf school on the beach. It was the end of the day, and I had just finished my final class. I'd done five hour-long classes in a row and I was covered in water and wet sand. Basically, I just wanted to get the thing off me and maybe go for a swim before I left the beach. I was in the surf shack we're based in with three co-workers, who I'll call Sam, Joe, and Mick.

Names changed but Sam in real life has an equally gender-neutral name. I texted my boyfriend, who confirmed he was five minutes away. I'd already finished my part of the closing up process, so while Sam put the closed sign on the door and locked up the filing cabinet and Joe and Mick sorted out the wetsuits and put the boards back in their holders, I left the boys to finish up and went to the changing area to strip off my wetsuit.

I'd gotten down to my tankini when I heard a loud, nasally, American-accented voice. EXCUSE ME? HELLO? SERVICE PLEASE? Seeing the boys were occupied, I pulled on my skirt and went to the door. This woman did not look like a stereotypical Karen. Long hair, tan, wearing a bikini with a big floppy beach hat and a sarong around her waist.

Her daughter was with her, looked around 10-12 years old, and like her mom's Mini-Me, but she didn't speak once during this encounter so I don’t know if she's entitled or not. Me: Hi can I help you? Woman: You could start by putting some clothes on. My tankini is covering about the same amount of skin as a one-piece would, aside from a strip of exposed skin by my waist.

I'll admit that the neckline is kind of low, but this woman is literally wearing a bikini, with way more exposed skin than me. And we’re in a surf shack. Me (customer service mode activated): I am very sorry, miss. Sam? Can you grab me my shirt, please? (he throws my tank top at me and I pull it on) Better? Woman: Not really. Is there anyone else who can take care of us?

Me: Sorry, my co-workers are a little busy right now, we're closing up. Woman: Fine, I want to sign my daughter up for classes tomorrow. I start to talk her through the availability slots, when we can fit her kid in, prices and requirements. While I do this, I'm gesturing with my hands and leaning over the counter to point out some stuff on the sign-up sheet.

Woman (interrupting me): I'm sorry, don't you have a sweatshirt or something? Keep in mind, it's the middle of summer, in a heatwave, on a beach. Me (clinging to my customer service smile because I'm still technically on the clock): I'm sorry, no, I don't. Would you like me to carry on? Woman: Is there no one else I could speak to? You're making my daughter feel self-conscious.

Me (giving up on being polite): You're making me feel self-conscious. It's summer, it's a beach, and it’s a heatwave. I do not have another shirt. Everything that needs to be covered is covered, and with all due respect, you're wearing less than I am. Sam, wearing a t-shirt and denim shorts, hears all this and recognizes my tone as my "I'm about to snap" tone, so he looks at me, I nod at him, and he jumps in.

Sam: I'd be happy to help you, miss. My name is Sam. Why don't you go— Woman: Sam is a guy? Sam: Last I checked. Woman: I thought you were a girl. Sam: Sorry to disappoint. Woman (to me): Do you think it's appropriate to wander around like that when there's a young man nearby? (to Sam) You should report her to HR. Sam: It's a beach. People walk round in less all the time.

Woman (repeating): It's inappropriate. Sam: You're wearing a bikini. Woman: I'm not working, she is. Me: You do know this is a surf school? Meanwhile, Mick and Joe hear the noise. She hasn't raised her voice or yelled or anything, but they can hear the tone of the conversation and decide they should step in just in case. Mick and Joe are both wearing board shorts and flip flops, and no shirts.

Mick (coming up behind me): Is there a problem here? Joe (at Mick's side): Anything we can help with? Her eyes go wide. She looks between me and the three boys in shock and horror. Woman (recovering herself): I was just saying tha— Me: She was just telling me to put some clothes on. Mick: You know this is a beach, right? If anything, she's overdressed.

The woman can see she's not going to persuade me to magically summon more clothing to wear, and you can tell from her eyes she knows the boys won't agree with her. Then a thought hits her like a brick to her hollow head. Woman: Just WHAT were you four doing back there? Joe: Closing up. Woman: I'm not stupid (I beg to differ).

Woman: You're telling me she answered the door practically undressed and y'all are wearing barely anything, but nothing's going on here. Mick (jokingly to me): Now, we've told you not to answer the door without clothes. I laugh. Woman: Don't you laugh at me, you little chit! I know what's going on here you...perverts! Sam, who is gay, is in all-out, doubled over, peals of laughter.

The woman’s daughter looks really embarrassed and is now bright red with her face in her hands. Sam: You—You think that (trails off mid-sentence in favor of more laughing) Woman: Oh, sure, everyone protects the office skank! (Joe literally falls to the floor clutching his stomach laughing) Mick: Yeah, now if you don't mind we're in the middle of it, so get in or get out.

It's just then that my boyfriend shows up. Boyfriend (sees me, Joe, Sam, and Mick beside ourselves laughing, the woman looking homicidal and the daughter bright red with her face in her hands): Everything okay here? My boyfriend comes over and gives me a hug, and I get the frankly genius idea to pull him in for a kiss in full view of the woman.

She screeches, some demonic noise that only dogs can hear, and stomps off, her poor daughter in tow, and that's the last we ever heard from her.

Permalink

23. A Blessing And A Curse

I’m a 19-year-old girl, and I’m my parents’ second child. I have three brothers who are 21, 13, and 7, plus a sister, who is 16. We grew up poor and our parents were often dependent on financial help from relatives, friends, etc. for raising us. This is because even though my dad has a mediocre job and my mom doesn't work, they just kept on popping out one kid after another.

My parents are very religious and believe that children are a gift from God. Personally, I think that's total garbage. My parents' reproductive choices wouldn't bother me…if it hadn't caused mine and my siblings' lives to turn into a nightmare. While growing up, we never had new clothes or toys, we had to accept handouts from family members who were better off.

We never went out or did anything fun. To top it off, we were well aware that the rest of the family looked down on us for constantly asking for handouts. Now, my older brother and I have managed to get into good colleges and are looking forward to a future that would be better than our parents' lives. He and I were staying at our parents' place for a while.

One morning, my parents called all five of us into the living room. Mom said she had great news. The smile that was forming on my face instantly fell when she said, "We're pregnant!" I lost my temper. I asked them how they could be so stupid and irresponsible. Do they not have enough financial troubles already that they have to bring in another mouth to feed?

My older brother tried to calm me down, but I was livid. After a lifetime of scarcity because of my parents' stupidity, they still hadn't learned their lesson. I asked them how they planned to provide for the kid. My dad told me I would have to give up the money our great uncle had left me. He had left all five of us some money which only we could access when we turned 18.

I said “Heck no!" That money would help pay for my college expenses. He called me selfish for not being there for my family. I told them if they couldn't provide for the kid, they should get an abortion. My mom started crying and called me a heartless monster. Dad told me he was disgusted with me. I told them there was no way I was going to pay for their stupidity and the ONLY thing I would be willing to pay for is a termination.

What I was really worried about was my siblings' lives getting even worse. My older brother and I have escaped our parents' clutches but the others, especially my younger sister, WILL be expected to help take care of this baby. No teenager deserves to have their adolescence ruined by diapers and a screaming baby. I know what it's like, as I had to go through that.

It was expected of me to be an unpaid nanny to my younger brothers and sister. My older brother could go out with his friends and have fun, but I had to stay home and help give baths and feed the toddlers. I decided to get some family members involved so they could talk some sense into my parents. I called my mom's maternal cousin, who’s one of my favorite people and who is basically my aunt.

When I told her that mom and dad were having another kid, she reacted with "WHAT? AGAIN??" I told her everything and how they expected me to hand over my inheritance, and she said she was going to speak to my parents and told me not to sign over anything. I promised her I wouldn't (of course I won't). I also called two of my first cousins, one of whom is an accountant, so she could explain to my parents how much of a financial liability this baby is going to be and try to convince them to either abort or give it up for adoption.

I moved out of my parents' home a few days ago. I just can't bear to listen to my mom's nagging about how "this baby is a blessing" and that I "want to kill it". I've moved into a friend's house for minimal rent. My mom's cousin paid them a visit about a week ago and tried to tell them they weren't doing this child any favors by bringing it into a life of poverty.

My mom was very rude to my aunt and told her that "a woman who chose to remain barren will never understand a mother's love". My aunt never wanted kids nor had any, which is one of the reasons she's my favorite. My dad told her to get out. My aunt told me there was nothing she could do, but she did try. I didn't blame her.

The cousin tried to explain the economic impact this kid would have and my mom cried about how "everyone was trying to take away her baby". The "intervention" didn't do anything. So now I've decided to cut contact with my parents, since I just can't watch my family slide further and further into a hole. I'll be maintaining contact with my sister (16) just to make sure my parents can't brainwash her.

My older brother is going to stay in touch with all of them, which is a good thing as he can act as a link between me and the other siblings if my parents ever forbid them from talking to me. Otherwise, I'm done with these people.

DCholic_19

24. Taking Me For A Ride

I'm a single parent, and I have a beautiful girl who is turning five in August. The past year I have been fighting with the ex that tried to keep my kid away from me. Lawyers aren't cheap, and being single doesn't exactly help with my finances. A couple of months ago, I won the lawsuit and I finally got to have my kid at my home again.

For the past few weeks she was saying she wanted a bicycle, but as I was still recovering from the lawsuit bills, I wasn't able to afford it. This past week, I got my summer bonus which finally gave me the financial boost I needed. So yesterday I finally was able to buy my little girl her bike she wanted so badly. I enjoyed my time with her riding our bikes, but then it was getting time for dinner, which I still had to make.

So we head back home and park the bikes in the backyard. We go inside and I start making dinner. After about 10 minutes, I spot movement in the corner of my eye through the kitchen window—and my heart dropped. I see this kid just casually strolling by with the brand new bike I just got today. I ran to the front door, hoping I'd catch him before he rides away.

I was lucky I did. I yanked the bike out of his hands, and freaked out to him, saying it was mine and he had no right to just walk into other people's back yards to take things. I was so mad. I forced him to get off my property, and set the bike inside my front hallway, thinking it's over. Boy, was I wrong. After comforting my little girl, I return to the kitchen to continue making dinner.

15 minutes later, the doorbell rings. It's the kid and his Evil Mother. EM: You give my boy this bike back! He found it! It's his! Me: He "found" it in MY backyard! I got it for my MY kid today! You should try teaching your kid some manners, he shouldn't trespass on other people's property to take their things. EM: Don't tell me how to raise my kid! Give me the bike back or I'm calling the authorities!

Me: (laughs) Call them! And I slam the door in her face. By this point, my kid is crying her eyes out, and I get to comfort her again, as she's thinking she's losing her brand new bike. Her sobbing finally over, I try continuing to make dinner, yet again. Preparation's done, I'm about to put it all on the stove, doorbell. I flip out, storm to the door, violently open it, and get ready to just explode into her face.

Guess what, she actually called the authorities. I instantly calm down when I see it's them and invite one of the two officers inside while the other stays with the evil woman. I explain the situation and show him the box the bike came in, along with the receipt that has my name on it. He shrugs and apologized for the inconvenience, and assured me I won't be bothered again.

I let him out and close the door with a smug smile on my face. I check the front window to see what's happening, and I see her go into a full tantrum. It ends with her in handcuffs and in the backseat of the patrol car. Bye Felicia! Don't know what happened to her, and I don't care. I finally finished dinner, and my kid still has her bike. That's all that matters to me.

PuffMaNOwYeah

25. No Means No

This all happened around 10 years ago and takes place over the course of the absolute worst months of my life. I had just turned 18 at the time, and thanks to my mom's gambling addiction we lost the house that I had lived in my entire life. Almost right after we lost the house, a family friend offered to let us stay at her house with her family, since she and her husband had a few extra rooms.

We move into their very large house, and at first, things were great. The family consisted of the parents and their kid, who was the same age as me. All of them were understanding and nice at first, offering to let me and my mom stay for as long as it would take for us to get back on our feet. The mom even got me my first job working as a volunteer at a bingo hall.

It was all under the table kind of money, but I didn't care since it was money in my pocket that my mom couldn't/wouldn't provide me. The parents had been family friends for a very long time and were absolutely enamored with the idea of me and their son getting together, and have been ever since we were little. They constantly made comments like "look at the beautiful couple," "you two look so great together," or "we'll give you lovebirds some privacy" whenever we were in the same place together.

Despite me stating several times that I didn't like him in that way, they were determined to try to get us to work, like some kind of arranged marriage. I think that really fed into the boy’s ego, because about a month into my stay there is when the first incident happened. We were walking down the hall when he smacks my butt from out of nowhere.

I really freaked out and went off on him, yelling, cursing, and giving him a few shoves. Our parents came upstairs to see what all the yelling was about and we end up getting separated. I tell my mom what happened, and she responds by telling me "it wasn't a big deal" and to "not rock the boat" while we were living there. The boy eventually gives some half-baked apology to me at dinner.

His dad made some joke about how he's relieved that he's finally taking an interest in girls since they were starting to think he was gay. Things escalate from there. Any chance he got, he would make lewd comments or find some way to grope me. Every time I went to his parents it was always hand-waved away as "boys will be boys" or "he probably didn't mean it that way".

They said that he was a really sweet guy deep down and I should get to know him better. On one occasion, the dad told me that I "should be flattered". My mom was content to not do anything, enjoying the freeloading that got to feed her addiction too much, and telling me to "stop playing hard to get". One day, he puts a hand down my shirt as I'm sitting on the couch.

I started yelling at him about how I'm sick of him doing stuff like this and to never do it again. His reaction was chilling. He gave me the most terrifying glare and told me "Shut up! You live in MY house". After that, I was so terrified of being alone with him that I would stay after school for as long as I could until l was asked to leave, and if I ever had to go back to the house for any reason, I would just hide in my room with the door locked and wouldn't come out until I knew other people were around.

I just didn't know if one day he was just going to force himself on me. Fast forward a few months and I'm told, not asked, that I'm going with him as his date to his senior prom, which is in a week. The parents are super excited and tell me that we'll have the whole house to ourselves that night after we come back from the dance. I very quickly shut that down.

I tell them that I'm not going because of how he treats me, and they spend the rest of the day doing everything they can to compel me. First, they try telling me money isn't an issue, how they'll pay for my dress and ticket. When that doesn't work, they try to guilt-trip me, telling me how they ask me for so little, and how this is the least I can do, and how much he would love it.

Finally, my mom eventually hears about it after she comes home from the casino, and she’s angry. She tells me how I need to go, how it's such a big opportunity for the both of us, and how I need to tell them that I changed my mind. I refuse, and the day after the prom is over, the parents sit me and my mom down for a talk. They start implementing new rules.

They are all about how they now expect us to pitch in for all the amenities, how we're expected to buy our own food, and how they're going to start charging us for rent. Before all this, they were very adamant about us not paying for anything, wanting us to save money to get back on our feet. Even without my mom spending half or all of her checks at the casino, there was no way for us to afford what they were asking. It all went downhill from there.

They subsequently gave us a month to find our own place and move out. We ended up moving out to live in a sketchy neighborhood with some guy my mom was dating, who she'd met at the casino. My mom blamed me for the entire thing, saying I "blew a golden opportunity for both of us". How I basically threw away a great future that was all laid out for me because I "wouldn't dance and put out".

That cut me pretty deeply, and I still get angry thinking about it to this day. A few months later I graduated, but my mom didn't show up to the ceremony. I come back to the house and I make a horrifying discovery. All my stuff is sitting on the curb next to the trash and had been thoroughly picked through. I found out my key doesn't work anymore, and nobody is picking up their phone.

I end up waiting till about 3 in the morning for them to come back from the casino, and my mom tells me in so many words that I'm on my own now. Nothing I say changes her mind, and I eventually pack what little of my stuff is left into my car. I spent the next month or two couch-surfing or sleeping in my car, while trying to pick up as many days as I could at work.

Eventually, I managed to save up enough to move into my first apartment with a roommate. I haven't spoken to my mom or those parents since then, but recently my mom left me a voicemail asking if we could talk, since she didn't like the way we left things. Since then, she's been blowing up my phone every day. I don't plan on ever taking her call.

MsKadamIfYoureNasty

26. Here’s To You

Now, for a bit of context, last weekend was liberation day in Holland, and many cities were having festivals to celebrate. Most of these festivals have free entrance, so they tend to crack down on people bringing their own food and drinks, to increase profits from beverage sales. A friend of mine lives within the area where the festival is taking place though, so usually we drop our booze at his place and retrieve it during the festival.

Since it didn't seem like a terrific idea to walk around with a bottle of JD, I mixed it into a 1L Coca Cola Vanilla bottle with just enough coke that it looked like coke, and went onto the festival grounds. While walking around with the bottle of “coke,” I feel a tap on my shoulder. Festival etiquette is to move over to the side to let somebody pass, after which I move along.

I suddenly feel a hand grabbing my shoulder and trying to pull me back, so I turn around, and I'm faced with a typical Karen. Her: Where'd you get that? pointing at the bottle Me: Brought it from home. Her: Can my kid have some? Me, not wanting everybody to know I had booze on me: They sell coke over there, you can buy your kid a fresh, cold one. Her: They don't sell vanilla coke there, and he doesn't like the regular one. He wants yours. holds out hand

Me: If he doesn't like the regular one, I'm pretty sure he won't like this any better... Meanwhile, the kid has started squealing about how he's thirsty and “wants THAT one,” and the mother starts giving me a demanding stare. Me: ...Okay lady, I'm going to be honest with you. Half of this bottle is Jack Daniels, and I don't think it's a good idea to give it to the kid. Her response made me want to scream.

Her: You're lying! You just made that up so you wouldn't have to share with my baby! Now give it to me! While I turn away in an attempt to disappear into the crowd, the kid grabs the bottle with both hands, wrenches it from my hand, and makes a run for it, his mom in tow. I follow them, and I find them just in time to see the kid take a few massive swigs from the bottle.

After, this he starts violently throwing up almost immediately. Figuring the best move for me would be to not further pursue the now vomit-covered bottle of Jack and coke, I decided to head over to my friend’s and mix a new one. In passing, I throw the mom a “Told you” and make my way into the crowds. Within seconds, she charges me and starts attempting to take a swing at me.

“YOU POISONED MY BABY!!! SECURITY!!!” We're separated by bystanders, and a stallholder gets security, who questions both me and the woman. Her: He gave my baby this bottle of poison and told him it was coke! I want him detained. Guard: Sir, what's in this bottle? Me: A premixed JD and coke, somewhat on the generous side with the JD.

Guard: And why did you give that to a kid? Me: I didn't, sir. I was mostly planning on getting smashed myself, to be fair. They thought it was coke, wouldn't believe me when I told them it was booze and snatched the bottle from me. What you're seeing here is just the result of the kid taking a drink before I was able to stop him.

At this point, a bystander chimed in, confirming that he saw the kid snatch the bottle from my hand, although he hadn't heard the conversation. Security tells the mom to not pull that ridiculous stuff again and to take her still crying kid to the first-aid post. He then instructs me to be more careful with the next batch I'm “inevitably about to make".

UnoriginalUse

27. Falling On Deaf Ears

This is about my adoptive mother. My adoptive parents are British citizens who moved to my country in the EU. They adopted me actually expecting mental disabilities, but I was just profoundly deaf. You would think that would be easier. So I grow up, and I get enrolled in deaf schools where I learn sign language. But my mother decides it's too hard for her to learn sign language…and actually bans me from using it in the house.

I had to mime or point at things until I could start writing, upon which time I carried around a notebook everywhere. If I did try to sign, I was called disrespectful for not including her in the conversation. In a strange way, this made my written language skills very good, as well as my lip-reading skills, which many deaf people have challenges with.

It was very difficult and upsetting living with her. My adoptive father was nice but he just listened to whatever she wanted, so he became a bad parent too. I went to university and limited contacting them. The one time I tried to visit them for the holidays, I got a terrible surprise. When I rang the doorbell, a strange family answered. See, my adoptive parents had moved back to Britain without telling me. Who does that?

findipil

28. Adulting 101

Last week, I was traveling for work. It had been a long two days of meetings, and I was exhausted. I had just arrived at the airport for my evening cross-country flight home when I got the dreaded text from the airline saying my flight was delayed two hours due to mechanical problems. I decided to pass the time by getting something to eat.

I found one of those airport restaurants and sat down to order at it. I ordered my food and pulled my phone out of my bag to catch up on e-mails and browse the web while waiting for my food to arrive. While I was waiting, a family with a mom, dad, little girl about five years old, and a middle-school-aged boy sat at a table near me.

I didn't pay them much attention as I was looking at e-mail on my phone, but then I hear the little girl exclaim in a rather loud voice, "Look mom, that lady is on her phone at the table!" I then hear the mother reply, "Yes, she shouldn't be doing that. It is rude to have a phone at the table". I glance over and the mother says to me, "We have a rule that no phones are allowed at the table".

My first reaction was to say something snarky, as exhaustion was definitely getting the better of me, but then I thought again and decided to be polite. I looked at the little girl and said, "We have the same rule in my family, but since I'm here alone I'm not being rude to anyone by looking at my phone now". At this point, the son looks like he wants to crawl under the table from embarrassment and the dad is trying to hand the mom a menu.

He says, "It's okay, let's just order". I think that will be the end of it, but no. The mom says, "Obviously you have a family, so you know how important it is to follow rules. I would appreciate it if you would put away your phone". This is in a tone that a parent would use on a petulant teen. The little girl chimes in and says, "Yeah, you have to put your phone away. My brother can't have his phone at the table, so you can't either".

I look at the little girl and say in as sweet a tone as I can muster, "Well, the great thing about being a grown-up is that I can do whatever I want, so now I'm going to keep looking at my phone" and turn back to my e-mail. The mother sighs loudly, the teen looks even more embarrassed, and the dad again tries to get the mom to just order and leave me alone.

The mom calls the waiter over and asks to be re-seated. He grudgingly moves them to a different table. My food arrives, and I eat in peace, enjoying browsing the Internet.

Takenbyme12

29. The Writing’s On The Wall

When I was a preteen, my mom gifted me a diary with a tiny lock and keys. I hid the keys (taped them in hidden places) and began using it almost immediately. I was a bookworm and loved reading and writing. I was also quite neglected as a child, so my diary was the only place I could express myself and feel heard. I'd read my last entries and that allowed me to reflect on my own thoughts and actions, and learn from past situations.

It was honestly really great for my mental health. For a time, my mood and mental health improved. Time passed. I couldn't tell you how long. Probably a few months. Shortly after I wrote an entry talking about my first wet dream, my mom got furious at me and confronted me, full-on screaming. She sat me in the living room, as she towered over me, screaming at my face.

She started asking me if I thought this was normal, that I was having depraved thoughts no child my age should have (for a preteen??? Really??? It was actually perfectly normal!), that I had promised no intimacy before marriage when I was five years old and that this was clearly going against my word. I tried to defend myself at first and protest, not understanding how she even knew about it.

Then she took out the unlocked diary as "proof" of my depravity, and my attempts at defending myself (it was just a dream) just fueled her anger more. I sat there silently crying, answering quietly whatever she wanted me to say to whatever she asked because nothing else would stop her escalation of screaming. I felt betrayed. My locked diary was my only safe place in that home.

I was careful with what I wrote in my diary after that incident and set a few tests to check if I was still having my locked diary read without my knowledge or consent. I did this by writing about innocuous incidents in a way that could've sounded like it was more than it was, knowing it would prompt questions out of curiosity. Every time.

It didn't take more than two days for the questions to come. Turns out, she'd hunt for my diary's keys and read it regularly. Needless to say, I stopped using my diary. My only breathing space had been turned against me. I significantly closed myself off from everyone. I felt if even my diary could "betray" me, then people could even more.

It was hard not writing. I no longer had an outlet for emotional or psychological relief, but I really couldn't trust anything anymore. After a week or two without any new entries, Mom asked why I had stopped using my diary. If I had dared, I'd have rolled my eyes and asked, "Why do you think???" But I knew better than to attract attention to myself and simply said I had lost interest in such a thing.

I really should mention that this was like 20 years ago, and I'm in a really good place now.

ya_tu_sabes

30. A Dressing Down

I've been student teaching this spring in a sixth-grade class. It's been a stressful semester, but a good one. Since day one, I have been treated 100% like a colleague and equal by my teacher and her grade level partners. I'm very baby-faced and don't always look like I'm in my 20s, but I know these kids very well, as I subbed for them a lot last year and in this past fall.

So they already have respect for me and we have a decent relationship. This week we're on a camping trip with four total classes. I finished student teaching, but my teacher invited me on as a teacher to get the experience. We mostly hang in the medical lodge and make sure kids take their meds each day. Easy gig after months of teaching.

The kids are happy to see me, too. Anyways. We arrived at camp. I rode on the bus with my teacher. Two of the other teachers drove their cars with student luggage, and so did some parents. I got off the bus and started to head down to the lodge with the other teachers for our meeting with the camp director and the counselors. I stopped off to fill my water bottle before heading down.

As I finished up, a mom came up to me. I smiled and was about to greet her— "You can't wear that". "Excuse me?" "Young lady, that is so inappropriate for a school setting. You're going to distract my son and all the other boys. I'm going to have to ask you to change as soon as we get to our cabins". For reference: I was wearing jeans, a black undershirt, and a tank top with thick straps that covered my bra.

You literally only saw my black undershirt that kept my bra from being seen through my shirt. Oh, and it was 100 degrees (Fahrenheit). I let out a small chuckle. I thought it was a silly mix up we could laugh about later. Nope, that set her off. "Don't you dare laugh! I'm serious. Who is your teacher? You are so disrespectful. No wonder you're dressed like that, trying to get the boys' attention I bet".

I put on my best "polite teacher dealing with parents" smile. "Whose parent are you?" She told me. Her kid was a troublemaker from another class. "Well,” I said, “I don't know if you're aware of this, but I'm not a student. I'm a teacher. And the camp's dress code allows my students to wear tank tops, so do not ask them to change".

"Now you're lying to me?! Where is your teacher? I'm getting you sent home!" One of my teacher's partners, Mrs. A, overheard the yelling and came over—also in a tank top. "Is there something you need, Ms.?" She asked me. I shook my head. "No, I was just introducing myself to this mother. She didn't know Mrs. T had a student teacher this year".

Mrs. A nodded earnestly. "Yes, she has been such an asset to all of us this semester. Your son actually got a few science lessons from her this year! She's going to be a great teacher". The mother was absolutely red in the face. Later that afternoon, we brought all the parents down to our air-conditioned lodge to talk them through the week ahead.

Mrs. T, who is kind of our grade's team captain, introduced me to the parents. Everyone except the one woman was happy to meet me, and a few even said their kids loved having me as one of their teachers. The best part of the week so far was when her son ran up to me at dinner and asked in front of his mom, "Miss, can you teach seventh grade next year so you can be one of my teachers? I'm gonna miss you!"

queensnow

31. Not MY Baby

In healthcare, one of the most difficult things to deal with are the family members of patients. They are understandably angry, upset, grieving, devastated, and often feel helpless. Most of the time I try to understand this and not get too annoyed when family cause problems. But these parents were on another level. One of my patients was an 18-year-old woman who had a pelvic infection.

She got very sick and required a moderate stay in hospital. She was a dream patient—open, honest, and generally a lovely person. Her parents were...none of these things. Every day they would come in and start demanding this that or the other thing from the nurses on the wards. They wanted an extra bed in the room so the mother could stay overnight.

They were rude to the student nurse who was doing their daughter’s check-ups, to the point that the charge nurse moved the student nurse to a different set of patients to get her away from them. But when the doctors were around, they were the sweetest people you ever met, right up until we were out of sight or we said no to one of their "requests".

They were disruptive, loud, and just generally obnoxious people. Thankfully, their daughter was aware of their behavior and had informed us that she didn't want them to be told anything about her condition unless she approved it. She was an adult, so she was entitled to her privacy. This wasn't a huge issue to begin with, as she shared most of the details with them.

But then her mother googled pelvic infections and discovered that *gasp* sometimes they can be caused by TRANSMITTED INFECTIONS *dramatic music intensifies.* As far as she was then concerned, we had screwed up and gotten the diagnosis wrong because there was no way there was any possibility that her angel had even thought of getting it on with a boy. They demanded to see their daughter’s medical records so they could prove that we were lying about the infection.

Politely telling them to screw off was the highlight of my week. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it. They came in the next day with legal papers trying to demand we hand over the medical records. Turns out, they'd lied to the lawyer because the papers were for a minor still under the guardianship of the parents, not a grown woman.

They then threatened to sue each of us individually. This isn't America, you can't just sue doctors randomly. They then tried to get some crackpot alternative doctor in to check her hymen. Thankfully, the daughter screamed bloody murder when the guy tried to examine her, which resulted in me getting to watch security escort and trespass the lot of them off the premises.

I honestly hope she presses charges for that.

TerrificMoose

32. The Forgiveness Gift

This story is more about the kid than the parent, but the parent was supporting the behavior sooo...One summer day last year, when I had just turned 14, I was playing some basketball with these two kids from my neighborhood in their driveway. Their family is pretty rich, so they have a fully paved driveway big enough to be a sizable court.

It's just them and me for about half an hour, until Satan's son himself came over from down the street. This kid is the really stereotypical little jerk who made the select soccer team three years ago and still thinks that he runs the place. So we let him join the game and everything is fine for a bit. I'm a little bit on the ahem "bigger side" but I'm really strong.

So I play really well as a center, posting up and that. And the kid is guarding me and he's getting worked. He's shorter and not as strong so he's getting dominated. Here's the major incident. I've just grabbed a loose ball and I'm running back towards the basket. The other kid gets back before me and stops my drive, so I start to back him down again.

He must have just been really frustrated by him not getting a chance on defense, so he thinks up a plan. At this point, I was wearing a hoodie and the jerk grabs my hood from behind and pulls as hard as he can. I, not expecting my airflow to be cut off, especially while I'm breathing hard, start to panic. I can't shake him off of my back.

I don't know how long he's hanging on, but it felt like a whole 45 seconds. That may not seem like that long, but I'm freaking the heck out, so it feels like forever. An eternity later, his grip loosens and I finally get him off. I'm fired up at this point, so I punch him right in the nose. Definitely not as hard as I could, but it certainly would have hurt a lot.

This guy, however, drops like he's out cold. Meanwhile, I'm on my knees trying to get my breath back. He's bawling his eyes out, he's rolling and screaming and all that, being the melodramatic jerk that he is. Suddenly his mom is running over, and it was that moment where I knew I was screwed. Sometime between when he started and when I socked him, his mother came out.

She's the typical "I want to speak to the manager" white, upper-middle class mom who volunteers to be the head of the PTA every year and goes to Starbucks 20 times a day, and the kid is very much his mother’s son. Mom: OH MY GOD ARE YOU OK? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM Me: He just nearly choked me out, so I punched him. Mom: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, YOU'RE SO MUCH BIGGER THAN HIM!!!!

Me: But he was choking me out! This whole thing goes on for a while until the neighbors step in to try to protect me, but to no avail. This just goes around for another five minutes before the kid finally gets up and LIMPS, yes, LIMPS back to his house I go home because I'm sick of this and I'm tired. The next day, I try go back over, but the kid is there already.

Neither of his parents’ cars is there so I assume that he's staying at the neighbor kids' house until they come back. I decide to go back inside because I don't want to interact with him. A couple of hours later, the kid shows up at our door with his mom standing at the gate of our fence. Kid: Um, hi, I was just coming over to say sorry for choking you yesterday, I won't ever do it again.

Me: Uhhh, ok. Thanks, I'm sorry that I punched you. At this point, my mom comes to see who I'm talking to and she asks what's going on. The mother pipes up and says the most ridiculous thing. Her: We are here for your forgiveness gift. Me: My what? Her: Your forgiveness gift, it's a tradition in our family that the person who apologizes last has to give the other person something to make up for it.

My mom: Excuse me? What's going on? I explain what happened and as I explain what happened, and she seems to get more and more disgusted by the situation By the way, the kid had tried to "correct" my story while I was explaining it to my mom, saying things like, "He punched me twice in the face, and then kicked me in the nuts while I was crying on the ground". I can see from my mom’s face that she knows it’s all lies.

I finish explaining and turn back to the kid. My mom: I'm sorry but we don't do forgiveness gifts in this family. Woman: We do in this one. Kid, pick something out. He looked around and saw my PS4, and he points at it. Kid: Mommy, I want that. Keep in mind that this kid is just about a year younger than I am, too old for mommy, too old for this whole situation in my opinion.

The mom walks up to our door and sees it's my PS4: Great, We'll take that as our gift, My mom, with steam billowing out of her ears, slams the door in their faces and quickly locks it. They start pounding on the door so hard that it sounds like they are trying to break it down. We leave the door, but they stay there pounding on it for at least another five minutes before finally leaving.

I still leave my neighbor's house any time I see him walking down the block.

User__69

33. Just A Tip

After never dealing with an entitled parent in my life, I've now had two in the span of a few months. So I am a delivery driver for a major food delivery company in a major college town in Texas where everyone loves maroon. Normally, it's not bad, pays pretty well, and customers are generally fine, though you'll always have idiots in every service job.

This, however, surpassed anything I'd ever experienced before. I get an order alert on my phone, a relatively simple but expensive order (we drivers love expensive orders) from a restaurant nearby. In the portion for delivery instructions, the customer explains that I need to call her once I arrive, as ringing the doorbell (as I normally do) would disturb her autistic son.

Okay, no problem at all. I received therapy for sensory issues when I was a kid, so I'm going to be even more sympathetic to that than the average person. I receive the order, and drive over to the house (nice part of town), and give the customer a call. Younger woman answers and tells me to come up to the door. I do so. Enter the entitled mother.

Strangely, she was fairly attractive and did not have the typical Karen haircut. Me: Here's your order ma'am, is there anything else I can help you with today? Her: Yes. My son is autistic, and people like you don't understand how difficult it is to raise him. I shouldn't have to pay this much for food. Can you give me a discount? Me, baffled: I'm sorry ma'am, but the app calculates your order total, not me. It's already been paid for.

She did not like that answer. Her face changed from a smug smirk into a snarl. I suppose I didn't realize how ridiculous the idea that people pay for their own food is. Her: Well, why don't you pay for it then? I'm not sure if you heard, but my son is autistic, and it's your fault that he's still hungry! Me: I'm sorry ma'am, but that goes against our policy. If I paid for your order, I'd probably be fired.

Her: Good! You're a useless driver anyway, you're disgusting! My son is starving! Since I've had to go through so much trouble with you, you should tip ME! So, my app has a setting that while you're in the process of taking an order to a customer, they'll assign you another one at the same time if there's activity. Thankfully, this saved me here.

Me: Can't do that ma'am. Here's your order. I dropped the food gently on the ground between us and jogged back to my car. She was shouting something unintelligible (so much for not disturbing her autistic son), but I couldn't make out what she was saying. Unsurprisingly, she gave me a one-star review (you tip online, so I got a small tip). I contacted support about it the next day.

Me: Yeah, I had a crazy lady yesterday, started demanding that I pay for her order, and even that I tip her. Really rude, not sure what the deal was. Them: Hmm, which order was it? Me: It was (order number) at (address). Them: Yikes, you're the third person to complain about her. One or two, we take with a grain of salt, but three, you're probably out. I'll try to get her deactivated. If so, her review will be off your record.

Me: Thanks! Appreciate it! I feel like the entire world is better off now that she won't get deliveries from us anymore, but was the cost worth it? That remains to be seen...

Permalink

34. Girls Will Be Girls

This happened when I was 15. A boy in my neighborhood would often cat-call me and try to grab me. He was around my age. I had told him to leave me alone, I had complained to his parents, but to no avail. When I told my parents about it, they just told me to ignore him. One day when I was walking home from school, he caught up with me.

As usual, he made some filthy comments about my body, things he would do to me, etc. I walked faster in an attempt to lose him. I just wanted to get home, but he grabbed my arm and lifted up my skirt, exposing my underwear. I freaking lost it. I began punching and kicking with all my strength and with all the rage that had been building up inside me.

I didn't stop until someone pulled me off of him. It was his mother. She screamed at me for hurting her "little boy" and told me she would be speaking to my parents. I said "fine" and walked home. I knew it would get ugly that evening, but his blood on my knuckles made me feel a little better. That evening when my parents got home, Karen was already waiting beside our front door.

Apparently, she had been messaging my parents all day, telling them about the beating. She berated them again in person. The "boys will be boys" defense was used. Here's the fun part. My parents actually apologized to her and promised her they would discipline me. When she left, I told them my side of the story but my dad just repeated what he had said earlier: that I should have ignored him.

And, the icing on the cake, he told me if I didn't want to draw the attention of boys, I should lengthen my skirts. Never mind the fact that I had pretty much been a victim. My mom told me to grow up and be more "ladylike" instead of getting into fights with boys. My two brothers who are younger than me were much more sympathetic.

My 13-year-old brother said he'd get his friends to gang up on him if he ever came near me. Thankfully, it never came to that. The coward never harassed me again. I guess getting beaten up by a girl can really hurt a misogynist's confidence.

Catwomanlover34

35. Mom’s The Word

I’m nonverbal due to an injury and communicate exclusively via writing and sign language, unless I want to feel like I’m pouring half-molten nails down my throat. Also, I love eating at restaurants. Denny’s, Applebee’s, little family-owned Mexican and Chinese places, etc. My husband typically orders for me to avoid me playing a game of charades with the waiter/waitress.

We were eating out one day, and apparently, this was wrong. So we were getting our food and this little kid near us, maybe eight or nine, was watching us since the restaurant was fairly empty. Right after the server leaves, the kid can audibly be heard speaking with his mother, a woman probably in her mid to late 40s. Kid: Mommy! What about her?

Mom: (She wasn’t paying attention, I’d assume) Hmm? What was that? Kid: He ordered for both of them! Mom: He what? Kid: The girl didn’t talk to him. Mom: That’s not right, let’s go see if there’s a reason. At this point, she takes a few steps over towards us, her kid in tow. Mom: Hi you two. Husband: Hello? Mom: Who is this? (She motions towards me) Your girlfriend?

Husband: Close enough, do you need something? Mom: Do you do that often? Husband: Do what often? Mom: Order for her? Husband: All the time. Mom: Could you please stop that? Husband: I’d rather not. Mom: I’m asking nicely. Kid: Can she not talk? Husband: Basica— Mother cuts him off: Just don’t do it again, I don’t want my kid to grow up to be some barbarian.

Husband: No. Feel free to leave us alone. She leaves with a huff and that seemed to be it for the night at first, as we got our food we started talking (signing), both clearly a little confused about what this strange woman’s issue was. Now, when I’m saying crazy in sign language I use the ever-known finger-pointing-to-head crazy, which I happened to start using right as she re approached us.

Mom: What are you two doing? Husband: Please go away, ma’am. Mom: I’m not going to let you teach my kid gang signs. So stop it. Husband: We’re not teaching anything, it’s si— Mom: I don’t care what it is, stop it. Just “talk” like normal people. She physically put air quotes on the word “talk,” classy. She soon walked away, and we continued our conversation with her angrily staring at us and trying to “shield” her kid from the terrible gang signs up until they left.

ItsAHabitOfMine

36. Just Desserts

I always thought these crazy people who don't mind their own business must be a rare breed and that I would never encounter one of them, but somehow I did. So a little bit of background before I start. I was born in Pakistan but came to Canada when I was three. By that time, I could already speak in Urdu, Punjabi, and Hindi (the languages are fairly similar in many regards), and then I came to Canada and English was my fourth language.

As I grew up, I also learned Arabic, French, and Japanese to varying competencies, but all within the realm of conversational. Having grown up in Canada, I have no "accent" when I speak in English, so you wouldn't be able to tell me apart from a Caucasian person if you spoke with me over the phone. But also having learned so many languages, I'm able to pronounce a lot of sounds fairly accurately, so I sound authentic in all languages that I speak in, to all but native speakers.

Most of the languages that I know sound different enough from each other that someone that doesn't know them can still tell that the language is different. I've traveled back home to Pakistan a few times, and I would always encounter those beggars who come with elaborate stories. Like, my wife is sick and she needs surgery, and I managed to get money for that, but I need money for the flight to reach her, etc.

I came up with a fun counter to that, which was that I would act like I didn't understand them at all and would start speaking in a different language that they wouldn't know. Japanese was my go-to language while in Pakistan. The reaction those people would have was quite hilarious. So my wife and I were at an Indian restaurant in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, enjoying our dinner and having a conversation.

We speak in a mix of Urdu and English, just mixing with whatever feels easy. To someone listening in, they would be able to understand enough to figure out what we are talking about in most cases. We were sitting in a booth table so it was only open from one side. Karen and her family—a husband, Jimmy, and two daughters—were sitting at an open table with an empty table between us.

My wife is Pakistani like me, and what some Pakistanis like to do is eat rice with their hands. I prefer a spoon myself, but at this time my wife was eating with her hands. Apparently, this Karen got offended at seeing my wife eat with her hands. When she came over, I started speaking in different languages, acting like I didn't understand what she was saying in English.

I'll translate what I said and put in parentheses which language I said it in. Here's how it went: Karen walks over to our table with a sour expression on her face. Jimmy calls to her, telling her to sit back down and leave us alone, but she ignored him. She addresses my wife directly. Karen: What's wrong with you? Can't you eat your food in a civilized manner like the rest of us?

Me: (Urdu) Huh? What do you want? Can't you see we're eating? Karen looks at me with surprise. Karen: What did you just say? Me: (Urdu) [To wife] Don't talk to her in English, just do what I'm doing. Me: (Urdu) [To Karen] You're just a crazy woman, go sit back down. Karen: Why aren't you speaking in English? My wife starts smiling and I try hard to keep a straight face.

Wife: (Urdu) We are just enjoying our meal, why don't you go and sit down? Karen: I just heard you speaking in English, I KNOW you can talk in English! Me: (Urdu) Yeah, I can but I choose to not do so. Wife: (Urdu) [To me] I think she's getting upset. Me (Urdu) [To Wife] I know, that's what makes this so much fun. Karen: Stop it! Talk in English like I heard you before!

Me: (Japanese) So you were listening in on our conversation? Don't you have any manners? Karen: Wait, that's some other language now. What the heck is this?? Jimmy: Leave them alone Karen, they don't speak English. Karen: I KNOW THEY DO! They're just pretending not to. Jimmy: It doesn't matter, just sit down. I start waving toward her table.

Me: (Japanese) That's right, go back to your table, you loud cow. Jimmy: Karen, they aren't doing anything wrong. Leave them alone. Karen: She's eating with her hands! I can't let the girls learn her uncivilized ways! Me: (Hindi) [To Wife] Start licking your fingers. My wife starts licking the rice on her right hand off the top parts of her fingers and that makes Karen rage even more.

Karen: OH MY GOD! Look at how gross she is being! Jimmy: Stop looking at her if you don't like it then! Me: (Arabic) Hey you dumb witch, do you behave this way everywhere you go? Karen: He changed languages again! I know he did! His accent changed! Me: (Japanese) Yep, and I can keep changing. Karen: SPEAK IN ENGLISH! Jimmy: You must have heard them wrong. They don't know English. Leave them alone. I couldn’t believe how much more horrible she got after that.

Karen: Then why are they living here? They don't deserve to live here if they don't know English. At this point, I was having a hard time keeping a straight face, so I disguised it by raising my voice and appearing angry. I gestured towards her and then pointed at her table. Me: (Arabic) Are you so dumb you can't even listen to your husband? Go sit down and stop embarrassing yourself!

Karen: YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE HERE! GET OUT! At this point, the restaurant's manager Singh shows up to see what all the commotion was about. He's an Indian guy with a pretty heavy accent when he spoke in English, so I knew he'd speak either Hindi or Punjabi. Singh: Excuse me, can you please keep your voice down? What is going on here?

Karen: This woman is eating with her hands and it's disgusting! She's corrupting my children with her barbaric ways. Singh: Ma'am, there are no rules that forbid her from eating with her hands. Please leave them alone or I'll have to ask you to leave. Now Jimmy gets up and comes over to where Karen is. Jimmy: Sit down Karen, you've embarrassed yourself enough! THIS is why I can't take you anywhere!

Me: (Punjabi) Ignore this dumb cow, her brain is smaller than a "ladoo" (an Indian sweet). The manager starts laughing at my comment and Karen gets even redder in the face, since she probably thinks we're making fun of her. Which, to be fair, we are. Karen: ALL OF YOU SHOULD GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY! Jimmy just takes her arm and leads her back to their table and sits her down, telling her to shut up.

Her daughters look like they want to sink into the floor from embarrassment. I ramble a few more sentences in varying languages as a kind of venting before my wife tells me to just leave it alone. We finish our dinner about 10 minutes later, with Karen glaring at us the whole time. I go pay the bill and as we are walking out of the restaurant, we pass near Karen's table. I knew exactly what to do.

I call out to Jimmy in perfect English (with no accent) while smiling and I give him a wave. Me: Hey buddy, I hope you enjoy your dinner! Have a good night! Karen's eyes bulge as she screams. Karen: I KNEW IT! SEE! THEY KNOW ENGLISH! She tried to stand up suddenly, but instead ended up falling over backward in her seat. My wife and I left the restaurant laughing before she could do anything else.

ZarafFaraz

37. Bread And Circus

This happened almost 40 years ago. My immediate family was, for the most part, perfectly normal and boring. We were not prone to outbursts and tantrums. It was very calm and quiet. Everyone got along and we were pretty happy with our boredom. I tell you that so you understand that I had absolutely no experience at all with people prone to screaming fits.

You should also know that I suffer from a case of terminal morbid curiosity. I also don't care about pleasing other people. Never did. Never saw the fun in it. This happened when we were visiting for my great auntie’s funeral. I was 12. My one aunt insisted that we all go out to dinner at her favorite Italian restaurant. It was just the best, she said so and she was never wrong.

The gimmick here was a little flag of Italy on the table. When you wanted more dinner rolls, you raised the flag. This is important. Flag up, you get rolls. Flag down, no rolls. Remember that. The six of us are seated, they take our drink order and bring the breadbasket. With us is my poor long-suffering uncle who will one day be made a saint for being married to this woman for over 20 years.

It started with the drink order. Aunt: We will have five sweet teas. Dad: I'll have a Coke. Mom: I'll have a Coke. Me: Tea, no sugar (This is a mortal sin in the south). Aunt: Don't be silly, you can't have sweet tea without sugar! Me: I don't like sugar. Aunt: That's stupid. Bring her sweet tea. Waitress (who winked at me): Yes, Ma'am. Uncle: I think I'd like a Coke as well.

Emily, their daughter: I'd like a Coke. Aunt: We drink Pepsi, not Coke. We are having sweet tea. The waitress brought us our requested drinks. My aunt was growing agitated. See, likes to control everything and everyone. So she told us what to order for dinner. I'm not going to get into an ethical debate here, but I refuse to eat veal.

She demanded we all have the veal. I refused. I knew this would set her off but, oh well. I'm not eating veal. My parents, after I had explained to them years earlier why I would not eat veal, refused to eat it as well. Did I mention I get my "I don’t care about pleasing you” quality from my parents? Well, they didn't care either. They were perfectly capable of ordering whatever they wanted.

So they did. I had lasagna. It was good. My mother's was better. Once we ordered what we wanted, it emboldened my uncle and he stepped out of line and ordered something else as well. My aunt was NOT. HAVING. IT. Aunt: You are getting the veal. Uncle: No, I feel like something else tonight. Aunt: The veal is the best. Uncle: I still want something else.

Aunt: You won't like it. Uncle: I'm sure I will. Aunt: You don't know what you are talking about. Uncle: I know what I like. Aunt: Well you can't have it. Uncle: Yes, I can! Aunt: I said no! Uncle: Well, I'm ordering it! Aunt: You always get the veal! Uncle: Because it's your favorite and you make me. I don't even like Italian food!

Aunt: Yes you do, it's your favorite. Uncle: I want the lasagna. Aunt: Order what I tell you to order. Uncle: No. Lasagna. Emily: I'll have the lasagna, too. Aunt: You can't have that, you are allergic. Emily: No, I'm not. Aunt: I'm your mother, I know what you can and can't eat. Aunt: (to the waitress): Bring her the veal, right now!

The whole time this is going on, I am looking from one to the other like watching a tennis match. Back and forth, with the pitch of her voice getting more and more shrill with each sentence. I was fairly certain that when we left bats would have been summoned. I'm just watching them and eating a dinner roll...The food arrives and everyone got what they wanted, even Emily, much to the fury of my aunt. Then it happens.

My uncle raises the flag. My aunt puts it down. He puts it back up. She takes it back down. Up and down, up and down. I see the bread guy hovering at the edge of the table.....waiting. The flag goes up and he rushes in to drop off the new basket before it can go back down. My aunt grabs the basket and throws it at the kid that delivered it.

To save time and typing, every time my aunt speaks, the flag goes down. The rest of the time it goes up. Aunt: You don't need any more bread! Uncle: But I want more. Aunt: I said no. Uncle: I'm an adult, I can have more bread if I want. Aunt: No you can't. Uncle: Why, just tell me why I can't have more bread. Aunt: Because I said so. You aren't listening to me.

Uncle: I'm hungry and want more bread. Aunt: You wouldn't be if you had ordered the veal! Aunt: Yes I would. I always am but you never let me have more bread. Tonight I get more! Me: I want some more bread, too. Aunt: No, you have had enough. Me: No, I really think I want more. Aunt: Well, you are wrong. Me: You seem upset.

Aunt: That's because you people aren't listening to me. Me: Yes we are. We just don't care. We want more bread. Dad (to me while trying not to laugh at how absurd this is): You aren't helping. Me: I think you want more bread too. At this point the whole darn place is watching our table and the battle over the flag. I'm fairly sure there were people taking bets to see who would win.

In the middle of the confusion, a nice lady sitting at another table nearest Emily tapped her and slipped their fresh bread basket to her. Emily took a roll and slipped it to me. I took one and slipped it to my father, then it went to my mother who, after taking a roll for herself, slipped one onto my uncle’s plate. If you can believe it, it got even more ridiculous from there. My aunt saw it and grabbed for it.

My uncle was faster. He shoved the whole thing into his mouth at once. It was a big roll. The waitress approached the table to check to see if we needed anything (Xanax was unfortunately not on the menu) and my aunt demanded she bring the check. Me: I want dessert. Chocolate cake. Uncle: Sounds great! I'll have some. Emily: Me too. Dad: I'll have apple pie.

Mom: I'll have cheesecake. Bring cheesecake for [aunt]. She loves cheesecake. Aunt: NO! We are not having dessert. We are getting the check and leaving. NOW! Dad: No, we aren't. Aunt: Well, I'm leaving. You can all walk home. Dad: I drove. It's our car. Aunt: I know, give me the keys. Dad. Nope. Aunt: You have to give me the keys. I live here. You are just visiting.

Dad: Yes, I'm just visiting. With my family. In our car. Aunt: It's MY state! Dad: I don't care. It's my car and you can't have it. You're a terrible driver anyway. Aunt: No I'm not! Dad: You drive the wrong way on the freeway. Aunt: No I don't. It's the other cars going the wrong way! Dad: You get lost in your own neighborhood. Aunt: Not always.

Dad: You are not driving my car. Aunt: Yes I am! Dad: No you aren't. That ladies and gentlemen, continued while we ate dessert and paid the check (my father was buying). As we walked to the car, and for the entire trip back to their house, my father drove. We dropped them off and went back to our hotel room. Dad to my mom: Has your sister always been this crazy?

Mom: No, it started when she was about three. Dad: What happened? Mom: She started speaking in complete sentences. Dad: Ah......

ACCER1

38. From Quirky To Concerning

A little over a year ago when my neighbor moved into the townhouse next to us, things seemed great! Their kids were nice, and overall seemed like they were part of a loving, normal home. They were quirky, but nice people who were always willing to help, from installing a screen door, to enjoying a drink and a decent conversation about home improvement.

One day, red flags started popping up. Halloween came up a few months after they moved in and we could hear all kinds of banging and pounding coming from the side of the house they are attached to. We thought it was just the kids playing and having fun until the father called me crying on the phone about how he was so angry they didn't get invited to a big party at the next house over.

The owner of that house has a policy with all the neighbors: “If my garage door is open, feel free to stop in and join us, you are always invited". It was weird for them to get offended over that, but I brushed it off. A few weeks later, their kids got the idea that our dog should have sleepovers with them and they started asking to walk him sometimes. Which at first we thought was cute, and it was! Until one day, it went too far.

The kids were asking about having a doggy sleepover once in a while, and their mother pulled me away from my wife. She said that it was really unfair that we get to have our dog all week long and that they have to build their schedule to see him around our lives and when we were home. I really had no clue what to say, but then she doubled down, insisting that their family should have him on weekends because I work shift work and get to see him all week long as much as I want.

Our relationship with them ended entirely after we caught one of their kids scratching our cars accidentally and they told us to call the authorities when we tried letting them know what happened. We didn't want money or for it to be fixed, we just wanted their kids to be more careful...

PracticalBrad

39. Every Dog Gets Her Day

Many years ago, I was living in a beautiful sunny southern state. I had a cute little house that was completely fenced in: 5’ fence in front, 8’ fence on the sides, and a 10’ chain link fence in the back. I'm fortunate enough to work from home. My “office” was my patio unless it was raining. My dog, Sarie, a German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix, kept me company.

At a year old, she was a big girl at 120lbs. She was generally very sweet and kind but protective. She was well trained but also had a knack for disappearing to play with her animal friends, so I kept her on a chain too if we were outside. High school kids in the area had the tendency to use the alleyway behind my house to get to and from school.

Most would stop and say hi to Sarie and give her attention. She loved it. I honestly didn't mind. One day, I noticed that any time Sarie was alone outside, some kids would rattle the back fence, throw things at it, then scream and yell at Sarie. The kids would run off before I could see who they were. In case things got worse, I bought some security cameras and brought Sarie with me anytime I went inside when the kids would be around.

One day, I had to grab some work in the house and left Sarie outside, just for a moment. From inside, I heard the fence rattle, and then Sarie yelp in pain. I rushed outside just in time to see a kid try to throw a rock at Sarie, along with some other kids. I was furious—but I knew just what to do. As I rushed over to Sarie, I calmly asked them: “Did it ever occur to you to wonder why I keep my dog chained in a fenced yard?”

Then I unhooked her. Sarie ran at my back fence and climbed over it. The kids started running down the alley with Sarie right behind them, barking away. I let her go about half a block, then whistled for her. She came trotting back all happy as can be. I checked her over and gave her a treat, and she was fine. A couple of hours later, one of the kids came back with his mother…an entitled mother.

Her (screaming) “You witch! You had your dog attack my son! He was only having a fun time! He's just a boy! [this kid was at least 16] You scared him! It was just a joke! You had no right to do that! I'm calling the authorities and having that dog shot!” Blah, blah, blah. I literally couldn't get a word in. Then she starts threatening me.

So, I called the authorities. The operator could hear her plain as day even though she was at least 40 feet from me. Officers showed up in about five minutes. two cars. I guess they were in the area. Four officers, all very nice guys. Two officers come to talk to me, the other two talk to the woman and her son. She never stopped screaming and cussing.

I explained what happened and showed the video I had taken to the officers. I also show all of Sarie's vet and training paperwork. I filed a report and asked to press charges. The officers are petting Sarie all the while because she's demanding attention from her new friends. She has her happy face on. Yes, Sarie actually smiles when she likes people.

The three of us and Sarie (on a leash) go outside towards the other group. We're about 10 feet from them when Sarie suddenly cuts in front of me to stop me and starts growling. The skin around her face went tight; making it look like a hair-covered skull. The hair on her back raises up. Sarie is very scary when she's like that.

Mother (screaming): “See! That witch raised that dog to attack people. That dog needs to be put down!” I called back one of the officers that I had been talking to. He didn't want to come too close as Sarie is showing large teeth at this point, so I moved back toward my house. As quietly as I could, I told the officer that either the mom or the kid was carrying a gun.

That's why Sarie started getting protective. It had happened several times before. I guess to err on the side of caution, or else to shut me up, he decided to search the mom and kid. Yep, the mom had an unregistered piece, while the kid had a dangerous blade. So, in addition to a charge of animal cruelty, they got nailed for carrying a concealed weapon, being in possession of a firearm while on probation, resisting arrest, and a couple of other charges.

This woman never stopped screaming the entire time this happened and while being driven away. I don't think that's how she or the kid expected to end the day, but I enjoyed it. Even better, I never saw her or her kid again and the kids stopped harassing Sarie.

halfwaygonetoo

40. Does Not Compute

Dear Entitled Mother, Thank you so, SO very much for your complete and utter lack of patience when getting on the bus, which resulted in breaking part of my $55,000 wheelchair and me needing to call the authorities for help...So I was on the bus tonight heading to a workshop that I was fairly excited about. Things were great until slightly before my stop when two adults got on.

One was with a toddler and the other was wheeling a stroller. It is strict corporate policy that all strollers must be folded before being brought onto the bus, but not enough drivers actually enforce it, and this was one of those MONSTER Cadillac strollers to boot. The entitled mom brought her unfolded stroller on the bus and, seeing the front entirely occupied by disabled people (including myself) decided to push past toward the back.

Only...her behemoth of a stroller wouldn't fit in the space available, and she started ramming it along my wheelchair to plow it through. Me: Hey! Watch it! Mom: *keeps trying to squeeze through* Me: Careful! I can feel you tugging at stuff! Her: *doesn't stop* Finally, she managed to push through and moved back. I fumed for the next few blocks, pushed the button for my stop, and turned on my wheelchair...

Then I got a "left brake disconnected" error. I tried again. Repeated errors. Me: Ffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuu... The next several minutes were spent with the bus pulled over, passengers getting mad at ME for "causing" a delay, while I panic trying to figure out how to get off the bus. Finally, a guy flipped my electric/freewheel release switch on and off several times and that managed to convince my chair to work enough for me to get off my bus and get about 15 feet away before it suddenly turned itself off.

I turned it back on. It started throwing up a "charger inhibit" error, which basically is the error you get when you try to start moving when you're still plugged into the wall outlet. The next hour was a progression of events that saw me sitting on the ground with the back of my chair opened up as I went through everything, trying to figure out what the ever-loving heck was going on. I even called the authorities because I wasn't sure how I'd be able to get home, since my wheelchair repair company doesn't have after-hours service.

In the end, I discovered that two different things had gotten disconnected, and when I fixed them my chair started up just fine. The lovely officer helped me get the cover back on my chair and, more importantly, helped me get safely back into my chair. I said screw it, skipped the workshop, went home, showered the icky sidewalk off of me, and had a couple of drinks.

None of this would have happened if that Entitled Mother had just taken one second to fold her stroller up. Or, I dunno, STOPPED when I repeatedly asked her to...But no, she was far Too Important to do such basic stuff like that. And yes, my wheelchair is actually $55,000. I know that sounds like a lot, but given that according to the order form I just looked at, the joystick cover alone is $85, it doesn't surprise me at all.

It has three different tilt/adjustment settings that drives the cost up enormously. I love shouting at people who drive too close to me that my wheelchair costs more than their car.

WrathOfCane

41. Back Of The Line

I dearly wish I could claim this was me, or even a relative, so I could claim this degree of clever was in my genes. But it was not. It was a bouncer at a small-town club, and when he made the comment there weren’t even the expected, cinematic ‘OOOOOHHH!” Or ‘WHAAAAT!” reactions one would expect. Just an echoing silence from about 40 onlookers.

So, this mother and daughter pair was trying to get into the club late in the evening. The daughter was clearly young, and actually reasonably attractive in quite a nice, fashionable outfit. The mother was not obese, but certainly overweight, and had shoehorned her corpulence into hot pants and a tank top that would have been trashy on a supermodel, and friends...she was no supermodel.

Badly dyed stringy hair, cheap bulky jewelry, spray-on orange skin, all the trailer-trimmings. I didn’t hear how the exchange started, but clearly these two were trying to cut ahead of the line. The bouncer, this massive, action figure of a Black man with an oddly babyish face and the patience of Job, had denied this effort. Hilarity ensued.

The daughter threw a few verbal jabs but seemed to be just mildly irritated. The sideshow of a mother lost her bloody mind. Shrieking prejudiced epithets that would curl the ear-hair of a bystander, and every horrific name you care (or do not care) to imagine. Interspersed with the expected “Do you know who I am,” and “Get me the owner,” etc.

The bouncer just stood there and didn’t react with anything but polite direction. Downright heroic. After a few minutes of this vile screeching, the daughter is now embarrassed as heck and trying to pull the mother away. People are gathering to watch and the whole thing has become a spectator sport. The bouncer just kept politely saying “You will need to go to the back of the line like anyone else ma’am” or variations on that theme.

By now the woman wasn’t even trying to argue the point, just squealing the revolting, and at this point quite repetitive, insults. Then she screamed that he was an awful bouncer and would get fired that night. Then she tried to slap the bouncer. She missed, quite badly, at which point the bouncer took a single step forward as she fell back with a shriek.

He then said quite loudly: “Ma’am, at any point tonight have I ever told you how to get off flabby obese old men in an alley? Clearly baffled, she said nothing but sputtered... he continued: “No, Ma’am, I have never said anything like that. Not once. I don’t tell you how to do your job, so don’t tell me how to do MINE". Silence. Like, 40 people in the street, not a sound.

She yelled a couple more things, then scuttled away with her daughter dragging her by the arm. It’s been over a decade, but I still want to go find that bouncer and buy him a drink.

Nordenfeldt

42. Time’s A-Wasting

I was outed as gender-fluid, aromantic l by my brother about four months ago. My parents didn't take it well, and they liked to pretend that nothing happened. Well, yesterday, my parents came to me and said, "It's time to cure your sin". I started to panic inside, but only replied, "Okay, which sin are you talking about?" They said, "Your gayness".

Yes, being aro/ace isn't technically that, but they don't care to learn the difference. They led me to the computer and sat me down, then they pulled up an online preacher and said "You'll listen until you no longer feel gay". So I sat there. I listened to this guy's talk; it was about 25 minutes long. At the end, my parents came up to me and asked if I "still felt gay".

I responded that I can't really change how I feel. They put on another one. This went on for four hours until they finally gave up. I hope they never try again.

Thedepressionoftrees

43. I Know Something You Don’t Know

I took my seven-year-old daughter to an animal sanctuary, and they announced that they would be feeding a baby sloth at a certain time, so my kiddo and I head over to wait. My kid was right at the front, close enough to look the sloth in the eye. Karen was standing to the right of my daughter. Suddenly Karen’s son, who looked to be about 11 years old, comes shooting through the crowd and stands right in front of my kid.

Now, my kid has a list of neurological disorders and can't yet navigate the finer points of social interaction, so she freezes and starts to tear up. The following exchange occurs: Me: Excuse me, you're standing in front of my daughter. Kid: [dumbfounded look but doesn't move]. Me: Hey bud, could you please move to your right? You're blocking my daughter.

Kid: [decided to give his balls a tug and replied] So? Me: So...don't be rude. Move PLEASE. Mother [in Hindi to her child]: Ignore this stupid witch, son. This was her biggest mistake. Me: [pushes my kid forward in front of the jerk kid, then says quietly to the mother in Hindi] Auntie, this white witch knows Hindi [huge grin] The mother grabs the kid and hot-foots it out of the crowd.

Today's lesson, kids: Don't assume someone doesn't speak a language because they are a different ethnicity.

rattitude23

44. Nowhere Safe

I am currently in custody of my two little sisters. Amy is 17 years old and Liza is eight, while I am a 29-year-old male and we live in Australia. This is the story of how my family felt they were entitled to both of my sisters’ bodies and I wouldn't stand for that. The main part of the story takes place about a year ago. I'd moved out six years ago at the time and moved to another state for work and study.

I was honestly really slack with keeping in contact with my family, which is probably why this went on so long. When I do think back to the time before I moved out, I didn't treat Amy the best and if I hadn't moved out and had so little contact with my family, I may have turned out just as entitled as the rest of my family and just as much of a horrible person.

I came back to visit for a grandparent’s birthday. After spending so long away I spent the morning catching up with aunts, uncles, cousins, my parents of course, and Liza. Now, this was actually the first time I’d really realized the oddities of my family. Perhaps it was the change in environment, but it was the first time I’d noticed how quiet the little girls of my family were.

I guess I’d always just thought of Amy as shy and quiet, but my little cousins were so much the same—polite, shy, quiet, and obedient, though at the time I brushed this off. After a few hours, I realized that Amy was nowhere to be seen all day. The party was at my parents’ house so this confused me, and I slipped inside to see if she was cooped up in her room like a lot of 16-year-olds would be, talking to friends or doing homework. What I found is a memory that will haunt me forever.

My oldest uncle on my father’s side, laying over my sister who was quite clearly in a lot of pain and struggling not to cry as he pinned her beneath him. I completely lost it as any brother would, shouting at him to get off her and out of her room. I scared the heck out of both of them but in that moment, I was honestly ready to completely ruin my uncle.

Amy was pretty messed up in the head when I tried consoling her. She was covered in scars, had a rash that I later found out was an allergic reaction, she didn't speak and looked at me as if she expected me to hurt her too. Her room was dimly lit, the blinds taped closed to her wall, all the things she’d had when I left were gone, leaving her bedroom feeling cold and empty.

To add insult to injury, she was a month pregnant. When I demanded an explanation from my parents, I wanted to vomit when I heard their answer. They said that it was my uncle’s right. I stormed off back to Amy's room, quietly packed her a bag of necessities, and managed to sneak her out of the house and into my car before doing the same with Liza.

Part of me wanted to get all my cousins out too, but my main focus was on Amy right now, who sat trembling in the back of my car. I drove them both to the closest station to report what was happening. I'll skip most the details of the court battle that ensued, but my family did not take kindly to being outed for what they were doing.

Apparently, it was a tradition that spanned generations, and “there shouldn’t be anything wrong with tradition". Amy and Liza were put into temporary foster care, and Amy was wreck. To her, everyone could and would hurt her, and I got reports every few hours that she was having a panic attack. Three of my uncles went behind bars for a very long time.

I got a fair bit of money out of a range of family members, full custody of both Amy and Liza (no enforced visitation to their parents), and my parents had to pay for any therapy costs, medication, and medical needs for both of them. My family was torn in two by this, with many of my aunts leaving their husbands with their children after finally having the courage to follow me.

Uncles who had married into the family took their wives and cut off ties. I still keep in contact with these members of my family and I’m grateful for their support and glad that my cousins are safer now. Even some of the older guys who had been brought up thinking it was okay to treat women that way took themselves into counseling once they realized just how messed up it was.

Now I do believe some part of the ruling protected the younger men of the family provided they seek some form of mental health help, as they grew up thinking that this was all normal. No one is sure who fathered Amy’s child, but she had her pregnancy terminated as we were told her physical and mental health would not cope with carrying a baby she ultimately would unlikely care for.

She did consent at the time and it was brought up by her psychologist once she was doing better and she confirmed that it was what she wanted. Liza, for the most part, was okay, but Amy had completely shut down. It took two months before I could even get her to speak. She trusts me now and we often sit down, and I let her talk and open up about whatever she feels comfortable about.

I did get Amy a service dog a few months ago, tailored towards the emotional support she needs on a regular basis. Lickity Split honestly is the goodest of good doggos. She knows exactly when she's needed and is a massive help when it comes to calming Amy's anxiety, especially in public. We've had more than one encounter with unrelated entitled parents thinking they or their kid deserves her dog more than her.

But anyone who does think that can honestly fight me, no one deserves her dog more than her. On one occasion, one of my aunts tried taking Lickity Split because “their money paid for her". I told her if she ever comes near my property again, I would call the authorities as there was a restraining order against her towards both my sisters.

Later she came back and tried to poison Lickity Split with tainted meat, but one of my lovely neighbors caught her and chased her off. Officers were called, and she is now behind bars too after having to pay a fine and some money to me because at this point, I’m pretty well acquainted in the court system and sued her. My family still tried to get my sisters out of my care, too.

They would report me for everything from animal mistreatment to trafficking. I’ve actually become pretty chummy with the local officers who have to inspect their claims, but they know I’d never do anything to endanger my custody over the girls, they mean the world to me. But recently, everything came to a terrible head once more.

A few weeks ago, my mother contacted me saying she wanted to talk. I was hesitant, but agreed and we met up in the next town over. My mother explained how she was in the process of divorcing my father and she wanted to have a relationship with me and my sisters, with emphasis on mending her bond with Amy who had not called her mom in years.

She explained how she was pressured into the marriage after she had gotten pregnant with me and never wanted that life for her daughters. I flat out told her no, as she could have done literally anything to support Amy emotionally while it was happening—done anything to make her feel better or more secure, but instead she was shunned and isolated except for when she was needed to cook, clean, or provide some sort of service to the family.

Amy was well past her breaking point when I took her. People I’ve talked to have convinced me that when Amy is in a better place mentally and Liza is older, I bring it up with them about their mom, and leave the decision in their hands. This story doesn’t have a slam dunk ending. I have my sisters and they’re in a safe environment where they’ll get to grow up as kids. Amy is getting the help she needs and is slowly making her way out of the tower she built to protect herself in the only way she could, but she knows there isn’t a rush to come out.

I’ll work with her at the pace she sets. She’s still discovering her own interests but quite likes just reading a book with a form of fruity tea. She also has a small collection of stuffed animals (mostly build-a-bear) that she adores and takes one with her everywhere—she's sensitive to texture so the feeling is a comfort for her—and once a week we sit down to try to find older bears she likes.

Honestly, I’ve loved helping Amy discover herself. Watching her find her favorite book genre or her favorite types of music is a great feeling, knowing how far she’s come.

Iron-potato-man

45. A Hairy Situation

My parents had a strict clean-shave policy when I was growing up, but now I am an adult and live on my own. I had grown a kind of long beard and was visiting my family. My parents are intense Islamophobes and they were horrified seeing my “Muslim” beard. They asked me to shave it because people might think I have converted to Islam and it’s going to tarnish my family's reputation.

I basically told them to screw off and mind about their own hair rather than my beard. I thought it was over—I was so wrong. Today I was sleeping on the couch and my mom cut my beard off. Now it's an ugly mess and I have no option but to shave it off.

chacko96

46. Same Difference

This happened a couple of weeks ago. It was the day of my grandmother's funeral. She passed in a hospital, and I was outside talking to the owner of the funeral home. This dude was also my godfather, and I had a very good relationship with him. It might sound weird that my godfather is the owner of a funeral home, but to me, it's not.

He's known me since I was a baby and he treated me like I was his son. Also, to me, his job is just like any other job, and it even has its benefits. Anyway, we were just outside the hospital, talking to each other. Parked in front of us were all the company vehicles, including the one you are all thinking about: The hearse. All of a sudden, this Entitled Mother approached us.

EM: Hello. Me: Uh....hello. She had her kid just next to her and he was holding a drink. EM: I was wondering if my son could take a ride on the limousine. She then pointed her finger to the hearse. It took me a while to respond for two reasons. The first one was because that day, I had so many thoughts going through my head, and a stranger coming to me out of nowhere caught me by surprise.

I am a very introverted person, and I find it difficult to talk to people I don't know. The second reason was because I was holding in my laugh. She legitimately thought that the hearse was a limousine. Me: I'm sorry to say this, but that's not— EM: Are you going to say no to a little child? At this point, I don't know what to say. Me: Miss, believe me. You don't want your son to go in that thing.

EM: Ugh...Why are you so stingy? Even if he spills his drink in the limousine, it won't be a problem. You have enough money to buy a limousine, so you'll surely have enough to clean it. This is when my godfather comes in. GF: Excuse me, miss. What do you want to do? EM: I want my son to ride the limousine! My godfather then said the most epic thing I have ever heard.

GF: thinks for a bit Well, sure he can ride the limousine. But only if he has a coffin to be in. The mom is a bit confused about this response. Then she takes a good second look at the "limousine," and realized her mistake. I have no idea how she confused a hearse for a limousine, perhaps the company logo was out of her view or something.

However, when it dawned on her, her skin got pale and she just walked away as fast as she could with her kid. My godfather and me just look at each other and start laughing.

manuelgennaromusic

47. An Unwelcome Visitor

Buckle up everyone for this bumpy ride. Okay, so I was chilling in my living room around 3 am playing some video games. My parents are out of town visiting some friends and I decided to stay home, house to myself and all. So here I am, in nothing but a bra and panties, when there's a knock on the door. "What the heck?” I think to myself.

I scramble to get my clothes on and I answer the door. It was a family acquaintance with her already whiny little brat. She's also visibly pregnant, and we'll get to why that part is important later. Me: Hey, what's going on? Her: My car broke down and the tow company can't come to get it until tomorrow, think me and my kid can crash here tonight?

Me: Sure, you guys can sleep in the living room. Once I let them in, I asked if she wanted anything and went to get the coffee she asked for. As I go get it, I see the little brat picking up my controller. Me: Hey little guy, please put that down. Her: Oh, can't he play a game? Me: Sorry, no. I'm in the middle of something, plus he wouldn't know how to play the type of game.

Her: But he reeealllly wants to, don't you? Him: I WANT TO PLAY!!!! Me: No, you can't play. Him: I WANT TO PLAY I WANT TO PLAY I WANT TO PLAAAAAAAAAAAAAY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. He then throws the controller at the TV, shattering the screen. Me: WHAT THE HECK? I rush over to the TV. Her: Hey! Don't you yell at my child! Me: YOU JUST LET HIM DESTROY MY TV LIKE THIS. Her: You're the one who didn't let him play the video game.

Me: I said no, and you have to teach your brat that he isn't owed ANYTHING. Her: How dare you! Just wait until I tell your mother about how you treated him, you'll make a terrible mom. Me: I'm not having kids, but if I did I wouldn't let them be spoiled little brats! Her: YOU are being the brat right now! Just get a new TV and quit whining.

Me: Yeah, I'll get a new TV with the money you pay me for the broken one. Her: WHAT?! But YOU are the one who instigated it. Me: You know what? Just get out of my house. You and your brat are no longer welcome. Her: What is wrong with you? I'm preeeegnant and have a toddler and have nowhere to go, you can't just kick out a stranded pregnant mother and her toddler at 3 am in the cold.

Me: OH YES I CAN, YOU INSUFFERABLE WITCH. Get OUT of my house before I call the authorities. Her, picking her brat up and heading towards the door: Just wait until I tell your mother about this! Me: Yeah, I'll gladly tell her about what the little brat to the TV and that you refused to pay for it! Her: You'll regret this! Thankfully, though, she left.

The next morning I called my parents and explained what happened. They were very understanding because I was never raised to be a spoiled little jerk and the mom got an earful from my mom that if she didn't pay them back we would take her to small claims. She tried to play the “Woe is me” card but it didn't work and she forked over the $500 for the new TV. Then we cut contact with her.

ATEEZ_Rookie_King

48. Giving New Meaning To “Food Fight”

I can finally air my uncensored frustration about the night my engagement was single-handedly corrupted by my entitled mother-in-law. Let’s call her “Ellen". Ok, so my girlfriend and I were really engaged to be engaged. We’d both agreed we wanted to get married, but I hadn’t done the formal proposal yet because we wanted to meet each other’s families first, since neither lived nearby.

I always thought the old trope about meeting the in-laws being a big fiasco was a myth, both because I was younger and more naive then, and because I’m lucky to have easy parents. My girlfriend met my parents for a few hours. Once we were alone just me and them, I told them my intentions and my mom asked, “Does she have any kids already?”

My dad asked, “Does she have a good solid job?” And they both asked, “You really love her?” And that was that, I had their full support for the marriage. I thought meeting her parents would be the same. Some grilling was to be expected, but as long as I was honest and respectful, it would all be fine. I have never been more wrong in my entire life.

Relevant fact, my girlfriend’s parents had her when they were teenagers, by surprise, so they later had a “do-over daughter” (their words, not mine!!) who was just six years old. My girlfriend and I made the trip up to their city and I met them for the first time over dinner at a steak house. It was pretty upscale, and we’d scheduled the dinner for 8:00 pm, so I was surprised to see they’d brought the kid along with them.

I met everyone at once and the initial awkwardness settled once we’d sat down. We were making great small talk when the six-year-old said she was thirsty. No big deal right? Well, all of a sudden, my girlfriend’s mother Ellen starts screaming. “Water? Water! WATER?!” A waiter came rushing over to see what the commotion was and, without even making eye contact with the poor guy, Ellen went, “We’ve been here forever and no one’s even gotten us any water. My daughter’s been asking".

We had been sitting for about 15 or 20 minutes without service, it was true, but they were visibly behind, and there were no circumstances that would’ve warranted that shouting. I should’ve realized from how unfazed everyone else at the table was that I should be bracing myself for a long night, but I couldn’t imagine what was to come at that point.

The waiter rushed over with water and apologized for the delay, explaining a few very large parties had arrived all at once. The guy was seemed sincere, and quite affable, so I thought the water would just be an anomaly in an otherwise pleasant night. Then Ellen kicked into full gear. “We’ll need a kid’s menu". She informed the waiter.

He said that they didn’t have a kid’s menu, but that the chef could simplify most dishes. “What do you mean you don’t have a kid’s menu?” Ellen replied in total disbelief, as though he’d said they didn’t have a fire exit. He explained they didn’t get too many child visitors and that there were enough plain foods on the menu that no separate menu had ever been necessary.

Ellen sighed dramatically and waved him away. Literally, without saying a word, waved him off from the table. I tried to give him an apologetic glance but, understandably, he didn’t look back our way. I was so glad the poor guy left and didn’t have to be subjected to her anymore. Meanwhile, she turned her attention on me, and I almost wished he’d come back.

At least he was getting paid to be here. She was like, “So you’re a screenwriter?” And I explained, “Well, yes and no. I want to be, but it’s hard to get a job in that field that you can support yourself on, so I’m working at a non-profit right now. There’s a screenwriting component to the job though, so I’m really happy there".

Ellen turned to her six-year-old and went “Hear that? You want to be sure to snag a man who works for profit. Learn from this. It’s not too late for you". I couldn’t tell if she was trying to be funny or not. So, I just let it pass, looking over to my girlfriend to see if she was even considering speaking up on my behalf. Nope. The waiter came back, visibly nervous.

That hurt, because he was so relaxed and personable at the start of the meal. He asked if we’d like to hear the specials before we ordered and Ellen said sure. Here’s how that went. Waiter: First we have a lightly seared strip stea— Ellen: Next! Waiter: Oh... uh, ok. Then we have a broiled leg of grass fed— Ellen: Next! Waiter: Uh, we, uh, we have a pasta primavera mixed with—

Ellen: NEEEEXXXXTTTTTTUHHH And on and on until he’d gone through all seven or 10 specials, even though she ultimately ordered off the menu, a plain rib eye, well done. She tried to order her daughter the same, but the kid said she just wanted plain mashed potatoes, so Ellen let her get mashed potatoes alone for dinner. Then...she sent the waiter away! The rest of us hadn’t even ordered yet!

And everyone else just sat there like it was entirely normal! I waited for someone to say something, thinking it was more her older daughter (my girlfriend’s) place or her husband’s, but when no one did I couldn’t help myself. “I, uh, was the one steak and potatoes going to be for all of us, or?” My girlfriend explained, in the tone you’d use for a tourist violating a sacred local taboo, “My mom always has the waiter put the kid’s food in first, so it can get started right away. We’ll order once the kitchen has hers".

I thought she was joking, since Ellen didn’t just order her kid’s food, she also ordered her own dinner, too. So I laughed. “Something funny?” Ellen asked. Then I realized she was serious, and I shut up. Thankfully, her dad at least recognized that what was normal for them might not be as regular to me, and tried to lighten the mood with a change of topic.

But not even 10 minutes after she and her daughter had ordered, Ellen started in again. Another table, that had been there long before we were, got a side order of mashed potatoes with their meal. Ellen threw a total conniption. She was sputtering so inaudibly that none of us could figure out what was wrong at first. Finally, she managed to flag down some busboy who barely spoke English and began laying into him like he’d just side-swiped her on the freeway.

He kept trying to explain he wasn’t a server and he could go get one, but she wouldn’t stop to breathe long enough for him to find someone who could actually help. All the while, I kept looking at my girlfriend for signs of embarrassment, or at the very least irritation, but you wouldn’t have known if she was even hearing any of this.

Our waiter came over, somehow still feigning a smile despite knowing what he was walking into, and Ellen actually goes, “Why did that table get mashed potatoes and ours haven’t come yet?” The waiter kindly but concisely explained, “Well Ma’am, those people ordered potatoes before your party had placed their order". Ellen looks this man in the eye (finally) and says, “Well it doesn’t matter when they ordered it. My daughter is the youngest one here! Her food should come out first".

You could tell the waiter was working hard to restrain himself at this point. He explained it was a first come, first served, policy and age didn’t help one way or the other. He offered to go check on the potatoes, Ellen agreed, or more specifically she said, “Yah, you better!” but I was clocking him and he went right back to his server station…because we had only just ordered a few minutes ago.

Three or five more minutes passed, during which we could have no other discussion at the table except how awful this restaurant was, how hungry the poor baby was (who hadn’t said a word about being hungry this whole time and was contently playing her loud iPad game, without headphones, disturbing all the other diners around us), and how America has lost all respect for motherhood because it’s just a “me, me, me” culture now.

I chimed in, “I’m with you on that last part". And to my utter shock, instead of laughing at my joke, my girlfriend seemed annoyed with me! So after a few minutes, the waiter comes back and says the potatoes will be out very soon. Ellen then goes and does something that, again, I thought was just a myth. She took three singles and a five out of her wallet and put them on the table in full view of the waiter.

Then she took one single away and said “Every table I see getting potatoes before us is a bill gone". I was absolutely mortified. The waiter, to his unending credit, just took a deep breath and said, “I don’t have control over the order in which the kitchen fires tickets, but what I can tell you is it should be out any minute". And he left without saying anything disparaging.

I had been holding my tongue all night as well, in the name of my relationship, but once the tip hit the table (the $8 tip for a $100+ bill, on top of everything else) I figured if my girlfriend was half the woman I thought she was, then she wouldn’t mind my speaking up at this point. If anything, she’d be supportive, right? So I scooted my chair back a bit.

Then I said, “Listen I know what you’re doing with the cash on the table, but that kind of thing makes me really uncomfortable, and it’s just not called for. Please put the money away or we can just continue this some other time". My girlfriend’s dad spits back, “What? How cheap do you have to be to not believe in tipping service workers?”

Before I could process whether he was serious or yanking my chain, Ellen shocked me with, “No, you know what, you’re right, this isn’t necessary". I should’ve known better than to be relieved. I still can’t believe what she did next. She folded the bills back into her wallet, patiently waited for the next plate of mashed potatoes to be carried out, and when it wasn’t delivered to us, (it was a very common side dish at this place, a steak house) she went right up to a stranger’s table and picked it up off their table.

She half explained something about her daughter “starving” as she was walking away with the stranger’s food, but unsurprisingly, that wasn’t convincing enough for them. The old lady she took it from followed her right over to our table and tried to take it back. I was already searching for my coat tag in preparation to go, but a shoving match was beginning to unfold between Ellen and an elderly woman with a tennis ball walker, and far be it from me to sit through all that had happened only to leave just as the night was getting interesting.

The elderly woman was like, “Give me back my potatoes!! Who are you??” And the poor little girl was like, “Mommy, it’s ok, don’t take someone else’s potatoes...” But it all fell on deaf ears. Ellen yelled at the old lady, “How could you sit there and eat these when my daughter hasn’t even been served yet? She’s sitting here hungry, just a little girl, and you’re over there stuffing your face? Come on, other potatoes will be out any minute".

And the old lady, got to love her, was like, “Great, if they’ll be out any minute, then what’s the [bleeping] problem?!” To which Ellen still found holier than thou ground, gasping, “Language, please!” Finally the waiter, and this time someone higher up as well, I think the manager, thank God, came over to separate them, as they had begun to raise their voices and cause a disturbance.

Now, staff had already asked Ellen to turn down her daughter’s iPad multiple times without heed, and I’m guessing the waiter informed management about the “tip on the table,” stunt she pulled, because this was their final straw. They told us we were going to have to leave the restaurant. “But we don’t even have our food yet!” Ellen complained at the guy.

This was clearly not the manager’s first rodeo. “You can take the food that’s already been served free of charge, everything else will be canceled. Please leave immediately". The old lady didn’t miss her chance to knock the potatoes right onto the floor so we couldn’t try to take them with us. Nothing else had been served yet, so we had to leave without any food. But the worst was yet to come.

When my girlfriend and I were finally alone in our car she said, “Can you believe that?” And I said, “Not at all. And I really can’t believe you didn’t warn me!” And she went, “How could I have known about any of that?” Confused, I asked, “Is she not usually like that?” Even more confused than me, my girlfriend asked, “Who?” “Your mom!” “What’s my mom got to do with the terrible service at that place?”

That was the beginning of the end of our relationship. The fact that she didn’t see anything wrong with her mom’s behavior, and that I’d be marrying into that situation, shook me too deep. We both dodged a bullet in more ways than one. In hindsight, we weren’t right for each other, regardless of who her family was. Her mom saved us both a lot of time and heartache, helping me realize in one night what would’ve probably taken us years otherwise.

Within a month we’d moved into separate apartments and gone on a “break” that ended up lasting forever. I’m not sorry I won’t see you again, Ellen. I am sorry any wait staff ever will, though.

StaringAtTheSunftSZA

49. Bounce On Out Of Here

I'm at a city park with my kids, and we've been to this park a bunch. There is this one spot where there is a rocky hill, all tree-covered. Nice and shady on a hot day. There is a playground and a pavilion at the top of the hill. We get up there and I immediately notice loud noises and I'm having to step over cables and extension cords.

You see, someone rented the pavilion and set up not one, but three, bounce houses around it. Great. So I have to give the disappointing news to my kids that even though they are surrounded by bounce houses, they cannot play in them since this is a private party, but they are free to go hit the playground. Everyone is cool. I sit on a bench as my kids go to town on the fake pirate ship when I hear "Hey!"

That's when this father, doing his best to imitate The Situation from Jersey Shore, walks up to me and informs me that the entire playground is closed for a "private party". I look at him and inform him that the public park does not close for "private parties" and it sounds like he rented the pavilion nearby which is fine, but doesn't give him exclusive use of the neighboring playground.

He storms off and returns with a rental agreement and shoves it in my face. telling me to get my kids and leave. Right, so the rental agreement is very clearly for the pavilion. All for the grand sum of $35 for four hours. How could any sensible adult think that $35 granted you exclusive use of a public playground? Moreover, why is it so important for you to HAVE exclusive use of a public playground?

I, again, point out to him that he rented the pavilion, not the park, and my kids won't go on his bounce houses and we won't go into his pavilion, but the playground is fair game for everyone. He begins hurling threats and I'm weighing just taking my kids and leaving to avoid this jerk. Then I decide I need to take a stand on principle. So I tell him to screw off and proceed to use my phone to find the phone number for the park office.

Our county staffs our parks. During the summer months, they employ park rangers who have peace officer authority. I call the park ranger and tell him that there is trouble up at this shady playground and they need to come right away. Sure enough, as I'm getting off of the phone, Dolph returns with two of his meathead friends to tell me that they are ejecting me from the park.

No, you're not. And if you touch me, I'm calling the authorities and pressing charges. No anger, no rage. With this promise of action, however, one of them kind of widens his eyes and steps back, saying to his friend, "Just leave them alone, man". This guy, for some reason, does NOT want the authorities coming down on him and it is very obvious.

The ringleader won't back down, however, and tries his best to get in my face, scream and yell. He grabs my arm, I remove his hand. All of this happens just as I see the ranger pull up, and he yells for everyone to step back from one another and come over. This smug dingus shoves the rental contract into the chest of the ranger.

He starts telling him that I'm "trespassing" and he rented this space for the day for his kid's party. Now, normally I don't like posturing by law enforcement, but here it was pretty amusing. Ranger: "Touch me again and I'm detaining you". -reads contract- "This is for renting the pavilion, you have use of the pavilion but the playground is open for public use". -hands it back- "Also, your permit doesn't allow you to set up bounce houses. Where did you plug these in?"

Ranger follows the extension cords and sees that they ran them to the nearby public bathrooms. There was an outdoor outlet. It was locked. This dude cut the lock off so he could plug in his stuff. Ranger comes back with the broken lock. "Did you cut this lock?" "Uhhh...it was like that when I found it". "Really? Because it was intact this morning. So some random person cut this lock and you just happened upon it within the last two hours?"

"Uhhh....I guess..." Long story short, he let them stay and let them keep the bounce castles because he didn't want to ruin a kid's party. He wrote the guy a citation for the broken lock and the unauthorized power use and banned him from the park for the remainder of the season (after the party). Amazingly, this entire event was lost on my children who barely noticed anything was going on, likely because of the compressor noise.

TheFire_Eagle

50. (Don’t) Just Keep Swimming

So let me tell y’all about how this mother tried to have me be her free babysitter/lifeguard. We just got one of those above ground pools you set up yourself that is 4 feet deep and 14 feet round. We spent the majority of two days prepping and filling it and letting it warm. Finally yesterday it was ready, and my daughter asked if she could invite a little girl she is semi-friendly with from down the street to come swim with her.

Since they are eight and they are tall enough to stand with heads above water, I said ok. Well, her little friend brought her toddler sister, who is probably on the younger side of two. definitely too small to stand with her head above the water. I tell the friend that her little sister can’t get in the water unless her mom is here to watch her, and send her home with the message. They both come back and she says, “Mom said she’s fine in her float and I can watch her".

And I said “No it’s not fine, I don’t think an eight-year-old is responsible enough to watch a toddler in a pool, and I am not going to be the one watching her either. You need to tell your mom either she comes to watch your little sister or she is not getting in the pool". They both go home and then BOTH COME BACK!! At this point I am livid.

I walk back to their house with them and pound on the door. No answer. I keep knocking, and then the garage door starts to open with this woman backing her car out!! I quickly went and stood at the end of the driveway with all the kids in tow, both of hers and both of mine. She gets out of her car all angry and asks me what my problem is?!

I tell her my problem is that I’m not her babysitter, and that I am definitely not going to be responsible for keeping her baby from drowning in MY swimming pool on MY property! Her reaction was chilling. She then proceeds to start baby-talking her own kids, saying, “I’m so sorry babies the mean lady isn’t going to let you swim, I’m so sorry princesses” and on and on. Of course, the toddler bursts into tears, and then the mother screams at me.

“Look what you’ve done!! You’ve made her cry and ruined her day! Hope you are proud of yourself!! She then snatches up the little sister, who is screaming, tosses her in the car, and screams at the friend to get in too. The friend is red in the face, and you can tell she is so embarrassed. She just mumbles sorry while climbing in the car. The mother then proceeds to peel out of her own driveway and we walk back home. Witch.

For what it’s worth, I was NOT planning on leaving the kids wholly unattended. I was right beside the pool doing yard work and planned on continuing once all the kids were in the pool. I just did not want to watch a small toddler in the pool, as she would require extreme supervision. Like sitting and staring directly at her kind of supervision.

nikknox

1. The Student Becomes The Teacher—Literally

This happened a few days ago. I work as a substitute teacher at various local high schools. I am 24 but I guess I look younger! I was walking through the hall at a school when this angry teacher approached me. He yelled: "Why aren't you in uniform? And no phones during school!" I thought he was talking to a student, so I ignored him.

Then he goes, "Excuse me, don't ignore me." I couldn’t believe what happened next. He snatched my phone out of my hand! I said, “What the heck! Give that back, I’m not a student.” He tells me: "That’s detention for swearing at a teacher. You will get your phone back at the end of the day, but for now you will have to come down to the office and tell the principal about how disrespectful you are being."

I knew exactly what to do. I just thought it would be way funnier to let him complain to the principal, who I play netball with, and watch his reaction. This teacher was raging. Saying I deserved to be suspended and that students always had their phones out, yadda yadda yadda. The principal and I were just trying not to laugh—before she told him I was a teacher too.

Then I got to say: "Now give me my phone back. Don't you have a class to teach? Because I do." I have never seen anyone go so red.

ngamako

2. Lost And Found

So I work late and just about every night for the last few weeks at least, I stop by Walmart to get something for dinner. I usually get off around midnight and stop by on my way home. Every time I'm at Walmart, barely anyone is there except for the night crew. Stocking up the store and doing their own thing. Now from what I have noticed, they don't have much of a uniform.

Many of them are in hoodies or jackets of different colors. Just to add some context. I showed up last night and I'm wearing a hoodie. I begin to walk up and down the aisles trying to figure out what I want for dinner. I'm thinking pasta and walk past a few guys who are loading the shelves. All of a sudden, I start hearing this guy yelling.

This voice gets louder. "HEY! HEYYYY! Are you listening?" I turn to look to see what is going on and this guy approaches me. "You're late again. Don't think I haven't noticed you walking in the door after 12." I begin to laugh, thinking this guy is joking around. Before I can even say anything he jumps on me. "You think this is funny? Your job must not be important to you. I want you to follow me to the office."

Now, I'm completely confused and start looking around like I'm on some hidden camera show. He starts to walk off and I turn around and go back to shopping for my meal. He comes back a minute later and starts to yell. "You want to be fired? Because if you don't come with me now, I will fire you!" I knew exactly what to say.

I start to laugh even harder, then ask him, "What's my name?" He gives me this puzzled look, so I asked him again, "What's my name? Do you even know who I am?" He looks at the other guys in the aisle, who have stopped stocking the shelves at this point to watch this event unfold. He then looks back at me, trying to figure out what exactly to say back to me before his head explodes.

"Good luck filing the paperwork to fire me, when you don't even know my name!" I continue to laugh at this whole stupid charade. I pick up some ingredients for spaghetti, trying to give this guy a clue. He storms off and I look at the other guys in the aisle. "I'm sure he will figure out eventually. I don't work here."

They start laughing and I go on. I can't believe I lost the job I just found out I had in the same night!

ItsABurnerSN

3. A Bad Apple Spoils The Bunch

So I went to Aldi today on my lunch break from work. I was shopping for ingredients to make hard apple cider. I found the only apple juice Aldi sold without preservatives and loaded up my cart with a dozen half-gallon bottles and kept them in their cardboard boxes so they would be easier to transport. There were a few other items I needed to pick up so I pushed my cart through the store shopping for them.

A woman noticed the boxes of apple juice in my cart and asked where I had found them. I had nothing better to do, so I walked her over to the apple juice display where she thanked me. Another woman immediately came up to me and asked, "You used to have these candy apples in the store but I can't find them. Where are they?"

I had no idea where they were so I said, "I'm sorry, I don't know—I don't work here." Her eyes narrowed and she responded, "What do you mean you don't work here? I just saw you help that other person." Now, I am in a t-shirt and corduroy pants and don't look at all as if I would be working at this store. I could tell that this was not going to go well no matter what I said, but I attempted to be polite.

I said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. She asked me where I had found this apple juice so I showed her. I don't actually work here." Once again, she replied, "What do you mean you don't work here?!" I repeated, "I don't work here. I am a customer, like you." She said, "Just tell me where the candy apples are!" At this point, it was getting weird. "I really don't know where the candy apples are. I don't work here."

"You don't know where anything is in this store?!" I said, "I know where the apple juice is." She yells, "WHERE ARE THE CANDY APPLES?!" I repeat, "Ma'am, I'm sorry I can't help you. I really don't work here." She keeps yelling, "WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!" I’m really losing it but I say, "It means that I don't work at this store. I don't know where the candy apples are. I am a customer like you."

"THEN WHY ARE YOU STOCKING THE SHELVES?!" She indicated the boxes in my cart filled with apple juice. I say, "I am shopping, I am going to buy what is in my cart..." Nope. She yells, "NOBODY NEEDS THAT MUCH JUICE! YOU WORK HERE AND YOU NEED TO TELL ME WHERE THE CANDY APPLES ARE!" At this point everyone around us had stopped and were staring.

An Aldi shelf stocker came over and said, "Ma'am, the candy apples were a seasonal item and I'm afraid we are sold out." For a moment, I just stood there in fear. The woman glared at the Aldi employee, and then me and said, indicating me, "WHY DIDN'T HE TELL ME THAT?!" He says, "He doesn't work here, Ma'am." The woman then roared in exasperation, pushed her cart into an aisle display of canned food, knocking it over and screamed, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!!! I AM NEVER COMING BACK!"

She stormed out of the store, fuming. The employee gave me wide-eyed look, which I returned, then I proceeded to checkout. I loaded the juice into the trunk of my car and hopped in the driver seat. I checked my mirrors before backing out. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I noticed that the candy apple lady was in the SUV to my left, sitting in her driver seat, sobbing.

I rolled down my window and waved to get her attention. She noticed me, waited about 15 seconds, then rolled down her window. "Are you OK, ma'am?" I asked. Through sobs and tears she told me, "I said I would bring candy apples to my grandson's party." I asked her when the party was supposed to take place and she told me that night. I told her that I had seen kits to make candy apples over at Safeway, and that if she made them now they should be ready by the time of the party.

Her eyes lit up and she looked at me and said, "Thank you." I said, "You're welcome." Then, I went back to work.

seanbeedelicious

4. You Have The Right To Remain Confused

So I work as an armed guard for armed truck service. For those of you who don’t know, we are responsible for picking up money and checks from other businesses. (i.e. banks, stores, restaurants, etc.) As part of my job is handling large amounts of cash I carry a sidearm in order to protect myself and the money. Where I live, you have to have what’s called a concealed carry permit to carry around such a firearm outside of work hours, which I have.

So I am on my way home and have to stop at the store to pick up dinner for myself. The store I go to has employees that wear a blue polo and tan pants. My uniform is black pants and a red polo with the company’s name on it. And as I had just gotten off work, I still have my name badge on and side arm in its holster on my hip.

Cue crazy lady. I’m browsing the freezer aisle and she stops me and starts to ask where such-and-such product is. She stops in her tracks as she sees my sidearm in it holster. Just stops talking and fast walks out of the aisle. I just assume she realized I don’t work there and left to find someone who does. I go about my business and proceed up to the cashier line.

As I’m waiting to get up to check out, in comes a swarm of about eight law enforcement officers. They come straight to me with crazy lady behind shouting, “That’s him, that’s the guy with the gun.” They point theirs at me and order my hands up. I drop what I have and comply. I state that I work for such-and-such company and that I have a permit for my sidearm.

They lower and holster their own after the commotion and apologize for the confusion but said they got a call about a guy walking around the store waving a piece around. I say I’m sorry but since I have been here my sidearm has been holstered. Never left the holster. They turn to the lady and ask if it’s true that I never took it out of the holster.

She yells that I’m lying and that I can’t have it in the store anyway. They of course go and check the security footage and see that I did nothing wrong and let me go on about my business and apologize again for the misunderstanding. But it’s what happened next that made the story truly unforgettable. They then turn around and handcuff the lady who called and told her she is being detained for misusing the 9-1-1 system and inciting panic.

armed4life

5. Come On And Take A Free Ride

This took place way back in 2007, when I was in my early twenties, working full time at an auto parts store. I drove a white 1982 Nissan Pulsar. It was ancient but no complaints. Relevant, I promise. It's 7 am, I'm driving to work one morning and pull up at a crosswalk to allow a dog walker to pass me. Without warning, my passenger door opens and a gentleman hops in next to me, nods, says a friendly hello and buckles his seatbelt.

He was a sweet-faced, white-haired senior wearing a sweater and brown pants. Definitely in his 80s. I stared in shock and stumbled my words, totally bewildered by what was happening. He saw my expression and said "Oh! I'm sorry! The train station, please!" That's when I saw the taxi stand near the crosswalk. Taxis here are white but definitely not hatchbacks, like my car was.

He had a big cheery smile and, still puzzled, I realized that the local train station was two streets away from where I worked. I was heading past there anyway. And he didn't seem like an axe murderer so, why not? I relaxed a little, shrugged and said "Uh, sure thing." We drove off together and he peered out the window, smiling.

He said "You taxis are much quicker these days! Ah it's a beautiful day for a train ride, don't you think?" He looked at me, still with this big smile and said: "I'm Jerry, lovely to meet you. I'm meeting my friend for breakfast today! I'm so excited. I haven't been on the train in years. All my friends have passed on and I don't really need to go out of town. Well, not until I made a new friend recently. It's funny how life goes isn't it? An old codger like me with a breakfast date! Can you imagine."

I said, "Oh well that sounds lovely, Jerry. Where are you off to?" He cheerily described the town he was visiting (an hour away by train) and described the store he wanted to visit while he was there. We chatted the whole way and I was so taken by how upbeat and cheerful he was. We pulled into the offloading zone outside the train station and he pulled out his wallet.

I jumped in, saying "Oh, no charge mate, I don't have my meter working yet." Telling a lie was better than deflating his happy spirit with an embarrassing situation. He was chuffed. It was a chilly morning. I walked him to the ticket office, where there was a heated waiting room he could sit in until his train arrived. He thanked me, smiled, and said "It's a beautiful day for a train ride. You take care now." "Take care, Jerry." It's been 11 years and I often find myself smiling when I remember him.

somethingwithatwo2

6. Revenge Of The Hut

It used to be that we had a phone number that was very similar to a Pizza Hut, their number was (555)455-5575 and ours was (555)455-5515. Now, these two numbers are commonly mixed up for obvious reasons. This was back before the days of cellphones and everyone having their own personal number, and we actually had to get a caller ID because of this.

For years we had this Pizza Hut’s client base call our house and order pizzas. The thing is. people WILL NOT LISTEN when you tell them "Sorry wrong number," we would have belligerent people call back 4-5 times and then begin screaming into the phone "I KNOW THIS IS A PIZZA HUT YOU JERK!" or "GIVE ME THE NUMBER OR I'LL COME OVER THERE."

This was pretty normal, and the Pizza Hut was even aware of this and profusely apologized when we would call them. It wasn’t so bad—but then our worst nightmare came true. Pizza Hut Corporate then pays for an advertisement on paper, billboards, and in the phone book. And guess what? They botched the number. They put OUR number on the things as one of the locations in our town for Pizza Hut.

The phone blows up. It goes from like 3-5 phone calls a day to like 100-200. Initially, we were directing people with a message that simply said "THIS IS NOT PIZZA HUT! THEIR NUMBER IS XXXXXXXX" But it didn't end. We would get calls with people screaming into the voice recording with all kinds of profanity. I cannot tell you how many times I've been told to off myself for trying to direct someone to the correct place, and for some reason no one EVER listens.

So, my dad calls into the Pizza Hut and says "Look, all we want is to not have to change our number. If you guys will PLEASE change yours, or pay for ours to be changed, we will stop getting your stupid phone calls." The manager swore at my Dad, who had him on speaker phone, calling him a ton of names and for "getting him bad reviews," as well as losing customers to his branch, which is locally owned.

What a joke. It’s costing their business a solid 10 grand EASY over a phone number—why not JUST CHANGE IT? My Dad looks at the phone, hangs up, and says "Ok, you want to be like that about it?" That’s when our whole lives turned into one gigantic revenge plot. My dad instructs my 17-year-old self and my sister to take all calls from now on.

If it rings, pick it up, take the order, and say "Okay your pizza should be there in (1.5 hours)" Then, when they call back, tell them, "Sorry, the driver just left." If they call back a third time, say, "Well I can get you on the phone with my manager but he’s probably going to beat you up if you keep complaining." Then, switch the phone with someone else and have them say "Listen here loser, you aren't getting your pizza and we are keeping your money, get over it."

Two weeks pass, and my Dad tries to get said Pizza Hut to change our number for free. Never pointing out that they messed up their ad, as apparently they were completely oblivious to this fact. Again, the manager screams at my dad, saying, "I don't have the money to change your number!" We even tried calling OTHER Pizza Huts to get the issue resolved, and their corporate with no real luck.

Fair enough, its game time now. Why? For two reasons 1. My dad got a phone with a transfer button and 2. Because summer was rolling around, and me and my sister loved messing with people over this. It was a really bad influence on us, actually. We fielded phone calls every day all day long, we had friends come over and they loved partaking in the same thing.

We had a general plan. Every other call would get a pizza "delivery," like we’d already done. On the other calls, we would get them really agitated by talking smack to them and saying, "Okay, do you want to speak with my manager now?" Then, we’d just cold transfer them to the Pizza Hut. Finally, we got some results. It took six weeks of us doing this and wham! The Pizza Hut closed.

A few weeks before they closed, we got a phone call from corporate, who more or less threatened us with a cease and desist sounded like they didn't really understand what was actually happening, as it accused us of "stealing their phone calls." Hilarious. We called their corporate and explained what was going on, and even played our recordings of talking with them before about the issue and ignoring us.

All they said is "You had better stop! This is AGAINST THE LAW!" over and over. It wasn’t. We didn't stop. They were aware of what was going on and didn't want to do anything about it. A few weeks after the owner lost his job, he called our house and was trying to argue with my Dad about how "bad of a person he was because I lost money, and got my behind beat several times."

Apparently, we had ticked a few people off so bad they actually went in and attacked him. To this day, it cracks me up that a company can be so oblivious. Anyone in this position who has any brains would instantly change the number, but not a corporation who has money to sue, and not a middle manager who has an ego problem.

MundaneSeesaw

7. Harpy 0, Karen 1

I work at a hospital as an ER nurse, which means when I start at 7 am, by 9 am all the patience I possess is gone, and by the end of my 12.5 hour shift I’m pretty much just done with people in general. So after a rather grueling shift, I stopped by the grocery store for dinner. I’m tired, and feeling super lazy at this point so even though I’m only grabbing a couple of things I use a regular cart—coz, you know, I can lean on it.

I do my shopping, pay for my goods and head out to my truck. Just to inform, no khakis were involved here. Store employees wear dark brown slacks, white collared shirts and ties. I was wearing an Incredibles scrub top—yes the animated movie, no you can’t judge me—and bright blue scrub pants. After loading my groceries, I, of course, return my wheeled crutch (ahem, shopping cart) to the corral.

I get back to my truck when a harpy with a resting witch face that would make Lois from Malcolm in the Middle proud screams across the lot. She yells, “Boy! I’m done you can take my cart now!” I’m like, “Huh?” I know I look young but, really? Boy? She continues, “Come over here and take my cart!” I say, “Yeah I don’t work here, sorry.”

She replies, “Just do your freaking job and take my cart!” I shoot back, “That’s gonna be a hard no from me, sorry.” I start (again) back towards my truck. The harpy, at this point, decides to thrust her cart towards me. It rolls (as carts with wheels are wont to do) and to me, it’s like a train wreck. I want to look away but I can’t. I’m mesmerized by the free range movement of this cart as it runs right into a Jaguar...a nice clean one...with dealer plaques still on where the license plates should be.

A woman who totally looks like a Karen (you know the type) is just getting out of it. The Karen obviously starts screaming and hollering, as only a Karen can. Harpy is trying to blame me for not running out to catch the cart. I’m trying very hard not to start laughing. I finally get back to my truck as Harpy is screaming at me to stop, because this is my fault because I should have collected her cart in the first place.

The last thing I heard before closing my door and driving off was the Karen screaming at Harpy about how, “He’s wearing scrubs! How could any idiot think he works here?” I think this was the first time I’ve ever rooted for a Karen.

vita_est

8. The Whole Truth

In college, I lived with a bunch of guys. We rented a beat-up old house in town next to a daycare. The problem was the parents picking up and dropping off always parked in our driveway. We argued with the owner of the daycare every day. She didn’t care. So one day, I began parking behind the parents who were parked in my driveway.

This infuriated the daycare owner. We go back and forth and usually I went out and moved my car so the parents could get their car out. One day, though,I've just had it. I worked most of the night, had early morning classes, and I had 20 minutes to shave, shower, and get ready for my second job. I get home and sure enough, parents are in our driveway...again.

So, I park behind them and go inside. I get in the shower and when I get out, the daycare owner is beating on the door loud enough to shake the wall. I went downstairs wrapped in a towel and opened the door. She burst into the middle of the living room and screamed at me. While she was screaming, I took the towel off and calmly dried my hair.

I am totally undressed. She stops screaming long enough to realize she's standing next to an undressed college student, screams something about calling law enforcement, and bolts for the door. Not so fast. It doesn't open. In her haste to leave, she's locked the door instead of unlocking it. Now she's stuck with me. I tell her I have to have the key (true) to unlock the door and the key is upstairs on my dresser.

I leave her looking like she's about to have a heart attack. I take the longest time to go upstairs and get dressed and get the key. When I come back to the living room she's white as a ghost. I unlock the door and say, "It sucks to be stuck and not able to leave, right?" Fast forward about 20 minutes. When I'm leaving, an officer is parked in front of the house. I chat with them through the car window.

I explain the situation and they chuckle. "Did you invite her in?" No, I tell them, she barged into my house. "Well, it's not against the law to be undressed in your own house. Her problem for violating your privacy." I'd love to say this rectified the situation, but it didn't. We never found a way to stop parents from parking in our driveway. But it was fun for a few minutes to freak out a stuck-up mean middle-aged woman.

permalink

9. The Joke Wrote Itself

I do stand-up comedy sometimes. I was performing at a bar/restaurant deal and was sitting in the back taking care of some emails waiting for my set time. I went to the bar to get a drink, had a chat with the bartender for a few minutes, then got the signal I had five minutes til show, so went back. When I got to the back room I realized I’d left my phone on the bar so ran out again to collect it.

Enter Karen (not her real name, of course). At a table just left of center facing the stage. Right by the back entrance I’d been popping in and out of all night. In a big group of six or seven people but even in my brief forays out, I could hear her shrill voice dominating their conversation. I guess here is as good a place as any to mention I was wearing a yellow sweatshirt and cargo shorts, the servers there wear all black.

She goes, “Sir, Sir, excuse me, sir!” Me: “What’s up?” Karen: “Can you check on our food please? All we ordered were some wings and it’s been like half an hour already.” Me: “Your server can help you with that, I’m not a waiter.” Karen: “What? Oh, dish boy, line cook, whatever. You work here, so just when you go back there ask about my food.”

Me: “Oh, no, you see I’m—" Karen: “No I get it. You aren’t a waiter. But do you work here?” Me: “Kind of. Let me explain.” Someone in her party: “I don’t think he’s a waiter—" Karen: “Shut it, ok, I’ve got this. You work here. You can bring me my food. Just a quick lil...you know...trot trot trot, carry carry...boom. Done.”

Me: “I can’t do that.” Karen, in an ungodly shriek/grunt/shrunt, says: “Whyyyy nootttt?” Others in her party try to get her to quiet down. They tried to wave me away. I was weighing in my mind whether walking away had the higher chance of getting me fired from future gigs there or staying and getting into it with her did. I was just going down the “stay and get into it with her track” when the emcee gets up there and goes “Now, a special treat for our patrons tonight, local comedian....”

I knew just what to do. I stop myself, lock eyes with Karen, walk backward to the stage, unflinching. I grab the microphone, her table is cracking up realizing what’s happened. And I say, “Well I’d hoped to do a show for you tonight folks but looks like that won’t be possible, apparently I’ve been reassigned.” I start riffing about people who think you work there when you don’t and accuse you of lying and how absurd a concept that is.

But then it’s too perfect. The waitress is coming out with wings and headed straight for her table. I know the waitress, I’ve performed here before. So I transition and I’m just like, “You caught me lady. Can’t hide anymore.” And I grab the wings from the waitress and I’m like, “Ooooh, Donna, I see you trying to hone in on my section, can’t you see this is my table?”

And all throughout the rest of the bit I would go over and fill their water glasses, bus their plates. Whenever I hit a dry spot I was like, “Alright hold on, got to check in with my customers. Can I interest you in any dessert? How we doing over here? Speak into the mic please.” Karen hated it, but the others at her table were laughing hysterically and would even sometimes flag me down for water or appetizers.

The set ends and Karen goes to file a complaint, her friends or coworkers whoever, try to stop her from doing so and some leave the venue because of her. A couple stay back to try and defend me and I told them not to worry because the manager and I were cool. But they got to see for themselves. The manager is an old school Armenian guy and he has no tolerance for this garbage. This particular venue was a biker bar before the area got gentrified, so he’s used to dealing with way rowdier customers than Karen.

So she’s going off about mistreatment at the hands of his employee and how I’m probably not licensed to be a food server—haha—and that she wanted something done. The manager plays dumb just to see her get worked up and goes “Who? This guy?” Even though the entire floor saw me give her a hard time. shrunting “YYYEESSSSSSSSSSS” Manager: “He doesn’t work for me.”

Karen: ‘What the heck are you talking about?” Manager: “It’s 11:30PM. He worked for me from 10:00pm until 11:00pm. That’s what I paid him for as a freelancer. That’s over. Now he’s just some guy.” Karen: “Well when he was working for you he was rude and abstinent!” Me: “What? On stage? Of course I was abstinent, it’s not that kind of show.” Karen (grunting): “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. See? He’s making fun of how I talk!”

Manager: “He’s a comedian, that’s what I paid for.” Karen: “I was a customer treated poorly in your establishment! He was acting as a server here when he served me and I want a refund on my meal or at the very least (turning dramatically to me, Gollum voice) an apology.” Me: “Alright, I might have been a little rude towards the end there, but in my defense, she didn’t tip.”

Manager: “Is that true? Did you not tip?” Karen: “Why would I have tipped the comedian?!” The manager’s reply was legendary. He said: “I thought you said he was acting as a server?” Karen was a little tipsy at this point so somehow logic convinced her smashing a glass would get her point across. All it did was get the manager to have her bounced.

throw5432away1

10. That’ll Teach Him A Lesson

My niece is from Bavaria, and I am from Baden-Wurttemberg. Her summer vacation started a whole week earlier than ours, and she came for a visit with my brother and her siblings. It was in the morning and we decided to take the dog for walk and go to the bakery on the other side of the street of a big school complex. I went in, while she stayed outside with dog. When I came out, my blood ran cold.

She was gone. I decided to call her on the cellphone, and she says “Thank god you’re calling.” Some guy in the background is yelling: “How dare you take a phone call while I am talking to you, you are in enough trouble for skipping class.” As I later found out, he ripped the phone out of her hand, and must have hung up.

I realized what must have happened, and went into the school to clear up this misunderstanding. I go right away to the principal’s office hoping my niece would either be there, or soon be brought in by a teacher. Outside, I can already hear him screaming at her. He’s saying: “Stop giving me a fake name and stop lying, you won´t get out of here until I have the truth! I promise you this will be mentioned in your permanent record!”

I did not bother knocking and went right in. He looked at me and yells, “Who are you? How dare you just come in here without knocking!” I say: “I am this girl’s uncle, what do you think you’re doing here? She doesn’t go to your school!” I couldn’t believe his reaction. He says, “Ah, I guess you where the one on the phone. Nice try, but you will not help her trick her way out of this. I will get to the bottom of this, and I will only release her to her parents. Now get out of my office or I will call the authorities and have you detained by the authorities for trespassing in a school!”

I say: “I will stay right here to protect my niece from you. Calling the authorities sounds like a really good idea—after all, you’ve abducted my niece.” So I made the call and told them my niece had been abducted and that a strange man was holding her at the principal’s office of the local school. This idiot still couldn’t wrap his head around the mistake he’d made.

He yells: “Do you really expect me to believe your fake phone call ?” Then he started to shout at my niece again, who at that point was in tears. I told him: “STOP SHOUTING AT MY NIECE, you will not address her till the authorities are here, or I WILL shut you up.” Then he says he’s calling the authorities to have me detained. So he called them, only to find out that my initial call to them was real.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure anymore, and you could tell the cogs in his head where finally start to turn. About five minutes later the authorities finally arrived, and they asked us separately. Here is roughly what my niece told them. She was waiting outside the bakery, when this random guy came at her, screaming like a banshee.

He yelled at her that he is really fed up with people skipping school the last week before vacation starts, and will make an example out of her. Before she could get a word in edgewise, he grabbed her by the arm really hard—hard enough she got a bad bruise for over a week—and that is what started to get him into real trouble.

The officers also took her data, and confirmed she is from Bavaria. They then asked us if we wanted to press charges. I just said throw the book at him. The guy heard the authorities sayíng stuff about pressing charges and suddenly realized he was in it real deep, so he came over. He starts going: “Hey, this is just a misunderstanding, you have to understand I have to be strict with people skipping school.”

I say to him, “If by being strict you mean attacking a 12-year-old so badly she has a handprint from you on her arm that will create a huge bruise, abducting her from my care, and wrongfully imprisoning her in your office while screaming at her and scaring the beejezus out of her, then no, I DO NOT HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THAT!”

He’s saying please, it’s blown out of proportion, he could get suspended or lose his job. I wasn’t having it. I said that anybody who treats a scared 12-year-old girl like that should not get to work with kids. In the end, he really did lose his job, and I am very glad he did. During the investigation, it turned out he was a sorry excuse for a teacher who belittled kids, who always took the teacher’s side no matter how wrong they were, and had even slapped kids on several occasions.

He went to court for assault and attempted abduction plus wrongful imprisonment, plus a few more bodily harms against students. He lost his job and pension, got two years on probation and 500 hours community service with the stipulation that it could be nothing that involved kids. He was also forbidden to ever work with kids again.

hicctl

11. Like Taking Candy From A Baby

For a little backstory, I'm in my junior year (grade 11) and I'm taking an education course, which basically teaches you how to be a teacher. We have to have "field experience" or practical work. We basically get sent to a school and put into a classroom to help the teacher. It’s a great way to see if teaching is right for you. Well, the classroom I’m currently stationed in is a pretty good one.

I know the teacher pretty well because she was my teacher and my brother's teacher when we were younger. This means she trusts me to do a lot more than other teachers probably would. Her class was having a back to school party and the teacher asked if I would mind getting some sodas the night before and she would pay me back for them. Of course, I agree.

I go to our local store and grab three 12 packs of sodas. I decided to also get a few small gifts like candy or small toys, as they were cheap. By the time I finished, my cart was pretty full but I was obviously shopping and not working. As I'm walking to the till, I decide to go ahead and grab some cheap things for me to have for dinner than night as well.

I stop my cart and start reaching up on the shelf to grab things. While I'm turned around a women starts digging around in my cart. I quickly stop her and ask, "What are you doing?" She says, "Well aren't you stocking shelves? I'm just taking some of the candy." Now, to be fair, I was still wearing my school uniform which is pretty similar to the store's. Both are khaki pants and blue polos, but the store's shirts have the store name on the back.

I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and just say, "No, I’m shopping. I need this candy for school, please put it back" She starts getting huffy and says, "You're wearing the uniform. Stop lying or I'll have you fired. My husband is the manager." Now, I know she's lying. I know, because my cousin is the manager. My cousin is married, but definitely not to her.

He's gay. I say, "I know that isn’t true, just give me my candy." I take it back from her and head to the till. As I’m checking out, I see her complaining to none other than my cousin. I pay and decide to let her know that I knew she was full of garbage. I go and give my cousin a hug and ask him how his husband was doing. Her face went red and she hurried off.

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12. Sassing, Harassing, And Trespassing

So basically, I live in a small apartment above a bar that has a really good kitchen. Over time I've become friends with the owners, who are really great people. This past weekend, there was lots of noise coming from the bar at about midnight, so I came to complain. They said they couldn't do much about the noise (it was a crowd watching a game) but if I came in at some point this week, they'd give me dinner for free as an apology.

That brings us to yesterday. I'd gotten off work late and didn't feel like cooking, so decided to cash in that aforementioned free dinner. As I'm eating things start to get really loud and busy again, so I ask for my meal to be put into a to-go container. The owner said I could just take the plate upstairs, as long as I return it later that night or the next day.

As I'm leaving, still shoveling fries into my mouth, I notice a woman trying to flag me down from her table. I assumed she was looking at a server behind me, so I took no notice and walk outside, carrying my dinner. I put down the plate to open my door, and while I'm rooting through my pocket I feel a sharp tap on the shoulder.

Lady: “Don't just ignore me like that! I ordered almost 40 minutes ago and I've not got my food! This is unacceptable!” This can't be true, considering even when it's packed I've never waited longer then 30. Lady: “What do you mean OK?! What are you going to do about it? I want my meal discounted for this!” Me: “Oh! I don't work there, you'll need to speak to someone who does about doing that!”

Lady: “Don't lie to me!” (Looks past me, up the stairs) “I know you guys are just hiding up there instead of working! I'd like to speak to the owner!” Me: “Lady, this is my apartment, please leave me alone.” I’m holding door open while I bend over to pick up my meal. The lady pushes past me and charges up the stairs, screaming as she goes: “YOU GUYS BETTER GET BACK TO WORK - THERE ARE PEOPLE WAITING TO BE SERVED DOWN HERE!”

At this point she's reached the top of the stairs and is now looking around my room, realising the only person she was yelling to was my fish, who I'm sure wasn't in any mood to serve her anything after that. Me: “See!? Get the heck out of my apartment!” I’m angry, tired and fantasizing about the burger on the plate in my hand.

Lady: “Well, it doesn't change the fact that I've been waiting ages for my food and that's unacceptable. Clearly (looks at my plate) you know the owners so I think you should still talk to them for me!” Me: “What the heck? Get out!” I'm out of patience at this point, and begin to walk towards her and try to usher her back down the stairs. Lady: “DONT TOUCH ME! IF YOU DON'T CARE I'LL FIND SOMEONE WHO DOES!”

She ran back down the stairs and slammed the door on the way out, however not before kicking a pair of my shoes into the street, which I then had to go out and collect. I saw the owner today when I gave the plate back, and he said the lady had come back down and caused a scene in the bar. Eventually the bouncer removed her.

I couldn't believe she still tried to act like she was right, even after she realised she was standing in my apartment, not a restaurant.

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13. Don’t Talk To Me Before I’ve Had My Coffee—Or After

I work as a management consultant at a firm where we travel to companies and businesses to improve their organization in certain areas. I have been observing at this company for about a week, meeting with the management team to gather information in order to start analyzing potential risk areas. Note the building that we are in has about a hundred plus employees, all for the same company.

I have just finished an entire morning with my team and some of the company's managers/directors/VPs, so I decided to take a short break to grab a coffee at the cafeteria downstairs. On my way to the elevator, a lady in her mid-40s called in my direction, and it went like this. She says, “Hey, you, come here!” I completely ignored her as I didn’t think she was trying to get my attention, so I kept on walking towards the elevator.

Now in my peripheral vision, I see the lady speed walking towards me and immediately got into my personal space in seconds. “Hey junior, I’m talking to you! How dare you ignore me?!” Note that I am in my late 20s, but thanks to my Asian gene, I look like I’m 18 to 20. Which is probably why bouncers at bars always triple check my ID. My visitor pass is also clipped to my belt.

I’m thinking I misheard that she cussed at me, so I say, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She replies: “Are you as incompetent as you are deaf? Go to IT and let them know my computer is having issues with printing, and while you are at it, grab me some supplies from downstairs.” I say, “Sorry miss, but I don’t work for you, I’m just trying to get a coffee.”

She loses it. She says, “So freaking what?? As an intern, you should be listening orders from all senior level people. Also, you shouldn’t be on coffee break when everybody else are working!! I’m like, “Wait what? No, you don’t understand, I-” but she immediately cuts me off. “Listen kid, you get that stuff done right now or I’m gonna report you to your manager for poor teamwork and ignoring me.”

I say: “First, you need to talk calmly and politely, then you need to understand that I don’t–” but then she cuts me off again. “I’m the MANAGER, you are NOT! Now, I don’t want to hear your lazy excuses, just get it done ASAP, I have an important meeting in the afternoon.” She storms off right after. Guess who that important meeting was with?

I shrugged it off and got my warm caffeinated beverage. Also, I know one issue to bring up as to why the company is losing young talents so quickly. The afternoon meeting starts again, and we are to meet with a new set of managers from other departments. Lo and behold, CL enters the room muttering something with a director or VP I can’t remember.

She looked at me and immediately said, “Yeah, that’s the kid who didn’t get my stuff fixed, so I don’t have all the files ready. Why the heck is he here?” I guess the moment she said that, something clicked in her head and she realized I’m not with the company, but rather the people they pay a hefty bill rate for. She sat through the meeting without really saying a single word unless we asked her questions directly regarding her department.

I am certain that she got in a ton of trouble with HR and her supervisors as I didn’t see her for the remaining three weeks I was there.

Rakenyul

14. Fashion Victim

I made the mistake of wearing khakis and a red shirt into Target once. I got asked SO many questions, but just laughed it off. One lady though...I was looking at makeup and this lady with her small child came running up to me. She asked where the bathrooms were and I told her I had no idea. She went from O to 100 and started screaming her child was about to have an accident, so I better get on my radio and figure it out.

I said, "I don't work here and frankly I don't give a darn about your kid." She went stomping off, so I went to grab groceries. As I'm wheeling up to pay, the lady taps on my shoulder and says gleefully, "Remember me? YOU'RE GETTING FIRED!" I look over to the manager who looks at me and says "I don't recognize you. Do you work here?"

When I said no, he looked really exhausted and said, "I'm sorry ma'am, enjoy your day." The crazy lady was still insisting he "fire" me as I was leaving. Poor guy. I've never made that fashion mistake again.

gfjq23

15. Above The Law

This happened over 18 years ago, but I remember it like yesterday. I had worked for a law firm in a clerical role for about three years. Though not a lawyer, I ended up doing a lot of work that lawyers normally handled, but not for lawyer pay. Anyway, I’d landed my dream job in another field (more interesting, better hours, better benefits, double the pay... I hit the jackpot) and was on my second to last day at the firm.

I had respectfully given and honored my two weeks’ notice. As it happened, I needed to take an extended lunch break one day to handle some business related to my pending new job. I arranged it ahead of time and even came in two hours early to make sure all my work was completed on time. Darn, I was too conscientious.

Anyway, my lunch business took me longer than expected and I returned about an hour later than planned. No big deal, right? I had very little left to do and only two more days at that job anyway. Nope. The HR manager found me as I got to my desk, called me to her office and fired me on the spot. I managed not to smile and thank her, because I was thrilled to have an extra couple of days off before heading to my new position.

I had a little spring in my step as I walked to my desk to pack up my stuff. I can neither confirm nor deny that I was whistling a happy tune. In truth, there was only one thing I still had needed to do on my final two days. Though not a lawyer, I essentially took care of all the estate planning clients (wills, advance medical directives and such.) I’d take all the info from the clients, generate all the forms, check for compliance with all the laws and hand it to the attorney.

He’d skim it, sign it and bill his hourly rate for the hours I worked. It was a cash cow for the firm, because I made next to nothing. Anyway, though I was good at the work, the files were rather a mess. Let’s just say my system worked for me, but it was eclectic. As I was packing my desk, I left them piled in a box on the floor. Moments before I was preparing to walk out of there for the last time, the young attorney (yes, attorney) who had been assigned to take over that part of my work came up to my desk.

He said, “The HR manager told me to come find you and have you show me the estate planning files. She said you’d show me what I need to do.” I had the incredible pleasure of being able to look at him and say, with the most sincere and innocent tone, “I’m sorry. I don’t work here.” Then I pointed at the pile of files and suggested the HR manager would have to help him.

Then I picked up my box of personal effects and walked away. And, just as sweet as could be, poked my head in to the HR Manager’s office on my way out to assure her that there were no hard feeling and to let her know the new guy was probably going to be looking for her.

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16. Virtual Insanity

I was at Walmart the other day looking at Christmas decorations, which are displayed in a main aisle right across from the Electronics department, where I used to work. I haven’t worked there in about three years, but occasionally I’ll get recognized. I’m guessing this is one of those times because I was dressed in all black, nothing even remotely blue.

Anyway, I hear a sharp female voice right behind me. I turn around and there’s Karen, 478 Millionth of Her Name, Seller of LuLaRoe, Self-Styled “Entrepreneur,” and Drinker of Vodka from Water Bottles at Her Darling Jaxtyn’s Soccer Games. Karen says: “Where are the kitchen utensils?” Me: “In the Homelines area. It’s up front by the pharmacy.”

I said this out of pure reflex—I was so used to customers asking me where things were that I think I’ll always respond immediately by telling them exactly where to look. Karen: “I know that. I was just up there and couldn’t find them.” Me: “Well, that’s where they are. Excuse me.” I moved to get past her, which was difficult because she maneuvered her cart so that it was pretty much blocking all foot traffic in the busiest part of the store.

To my surprise, she actually moved. She had a strange look on her face though. Kind of a deer in the headlights, with a lot of rapid blinking. When I walked past, I noticed her taking out her phone and dipping down a side aisle, and Miss Thing was hustling. Oh, Lord. I wasn’t sure what was about to happen but I knew it was going to be loud.

I was walking down another aisle when she bursts out in front of me, slightly out of breath and holding her phone out in front of her, like she was talking on speaker with who I assumed was the Customer Service line. She was like Kyle Fuller with hot flashes and an iPhone. Karen: “- at Walmart. Oh look! Here she is. Come here.” She points and beckons at me.

Me: “No?” I was honestly confused at what was happening. I owed this woman exactly none of my time. She comes up to me instead. Karen: “Say hi to Facebook. What’s your name?” She said this with the slightly manic, slightly smug look of someone who has very clearly just found the hill she is willing to die on. This witch was recording me in a Facebook Live video.

Me: “Hi Facebook. Why are you friends with her?” Karen: “Oooh, she’s got a sense of humor. She won’t tell me her name. This is the [city] Walmart. Today is December 17, 2018 at 10:30 PM.” (I don’t remember the exact day or time but that sounds right.) Then she ended the video. Karen: “I have you on video. I will be sharing this with the [city] Walmart’s Facebook page. Have a good dayyyyy.”

She drew out the last word in a singsongy voice with this creepy smile. It’s now two days later and as far as I know Walmart doesn’t really conduct investigations through Facebook so I think I’m safe, guys.

thisisaflawedprocess

17. Grand Theft Garden

We moved into a new house a few years ago. Two days after we get settled in, it’s a gorgeous day so I’m out tending the garden. If you live in Louisiana you’ll realize that nice days are few and far in between. It’s hot and muggy. About 30 minutes after I start, this woman walks beside the house. She compliments my garden and asks how much my services cost.

So I told her, ma’am, I don’t do any services. About this time my husband walks out and puts something into the car. So all is perfectly fine right? No. This woman decides to call the authorities and tell them we are robbing the place. I don’t know if her watching my husband caused that, thinking he was pulling stuff out of the house and putting it into the vehicle or whatnot.

We were new neighbors, moved in like a few days prior so you’d think she would have seen us moving. Three officers show up a few minutes after she left. We didn’t know she called them. They pull up while both of us are wondering what the heck happened. Maybe someone we knew passed on or our kid got pulled over. Neither.

They said we were called in as an active burglar. We had to prove it was ours. She didn’t even talk to us about it. Although I guess in the moment she just lost it. People are crazy here.

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18. Ceci N’est Pas Mon Job

So me and my girlfriend took a trip to Disneyland Paris a few years ago as our first holiday together. We were having an awesome time in the parks etc., but one day was incredibly busy so we decided instead of queueing hours for rides we would do some souvenir shopping instead for a bit. We are in a store in Disneyland browsing various mugs, fridge magnets, plush toys, you know, the general overpriced stuff.

This is when a very sweet English woman asked me if I could help her across the store as I'm a tall guy. I said, "Yeah, that's fine" I get it at home in the supermarkets all the time so no biggie. It turns out her daughter wanted a specific Winnie the Pooh toy that was at the top of a huge pile of plush toys.

I gladly grabbed it down for her and gave it to the little girl who was over the moon. This is where things got strange. A fairly young French lady moved over to me chatting in French and gesturing at a shelf with some glasses on it. I speak a tiny bit of French, but definitely not enough to know what she wanted, so I politely told her that I speak English and I'm not an employee.

I was wearing jeans and a wine colored hoodie which is not even remotely close to Disney cast members’ uniforms. The French lady stormed off and I thought that was that. I went and found my girlfriend and we were looking at some gift ideas for our families. From right behind me I heard a woman say, "This is him," in English, but with a French accent.

I turned around to see the aforementioned French lady who had dragged an actual employee over to me to give me a scolding. Her accent was very heavy but she said something along the lines of "He helped someone else but not me, workers should be trained better." The actual Disney employee immediately could see I was a guest at the park, apologized and lead the woman away.

All we could hear from the other side of the store was the French lady shouting and getting very irate. I assume she was removed from the store. Anyway me and my girlfriend took a couple of Minnie and Mickey Mouse mugs to the register to pay for, and the employee who sorted the situation was on the next register she said, "Please wait there."

She toddled off and came back a couple minutes later with a stuffed Luke Skywalker Mickey Mouse plush and a Stuffed Princess Leia Minnie Mouse for my girlfriend. "These are for you as way of an apology." I said, "It's not necessary, was just a misunderstanding," but she insisted, so we got some pretty cool free souvenirs. Thanks, angry French lady.

DiamondAquilla

19. The Big Book Of Blockheads

I’m an author on a book tour. I’m in a big chain bookstore, sitting at a table with a stack of my books in front of me and beside a seven foot tall reproduction of my book cover. I’m chatting with someone while signing their book, and there are three people in line behind them—it’s my first book, so three people in line is huge for me, I’m enjoying the heck out of it and I’m working my hardest to make sure everyone is having a great time. And they mostly are. Mostly.

I start to pick up an impatient vibe from the man at the end of the line. He’s kind of huffy, looking around a lot, and keeps trying to make eye contact with me as I’m writing a somewhat lengthy dedication for the person at the front. The front person asks if we can take a photo together, I say OF COURSE because I am so not used to anyone wanting to take a picture with me and I’m totally an attention hog. This really sets Grumpy Man off.

“Really?!” he barks. I’m trying my best to not be mad at Grumpy Man, because he’s in a line to buy my book. Maybe he’s had an awful day. Maybe he’s late for dinner. Maybe his parking meter ran out five minutes ago and he has so many parking tickets that they’ll tow his car. Who knows? So I ask the other people in line if it’s ok for this gentleman to jump ahead since he seems to be pressed for time, and everyone is cool with it.

I motion for him to come on up. He plops a bag down on the signing table, pulls out three copies of Geddy Lee’s Big Book of Bass, and says “I need to return these.” Oh. Oh no. I put on my best apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for the confusion,” I say, gesturing at my stack of books and the giant sign beside me, “I’m the author of this book and I’m here to sign copies of it today.”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE, I NEED TO RETURN THESE,” he shouts. “For sure, I get that,” I say, “I just don’t know how I can help you. I don’t work here, I’m just visiting this store to sign my book.” I point towards the cash desk about 20 feet away and say, “I’m sure that the awesome people who work at this store will be happy to help you.”

“I stood in THIS line. I need YOU to help me,” he snaps. I’m pretty convinced that he’s not listening to me. “I’m so sorry about that confusion. It makes sense, there was a line of people, you figured it was a line for the cash, and you stood in it. But it turns out it was a line to get my autograph. The good news is that there’s no line at the cash.”

I point again towards the actual cash. The other people in line are having a great time watching this show. And a few people have come creeping over from the coffee shop attached to the bookstore to get a better view. “Cut out this AUTHOR GARBAGE,” shouts Grumpy Man, “and get me your manager!” I stand up very slowly. I pick up a copy of my book from the stack and flip to the About The Author page.

I hold it up beside my face and make the same smirking grin that I’m wearing in the headshot printed in the book. This visual aid seems to have worked, because Grumpy Man grabbed his three copies of Geddy Lee’s Big Book of Bass and toddler-stomped his way over to the actual cash.

ImpossiblySalad

20. She Got Lost On Her Way To Smashing The Glass Ceiling

My best friend and roommate works for a small independent print shop as a graphic designer. We live in the burbs and the shop is located downtown about half an hour from our house. Oftentimes I will be downtown for an appointment of some kind, and will ride home with her rather than take the train. Usually by 4PM, the only people left in the shop are her and a specific coworker, so I will just hang out in the front area of the shop with my laptop.

At 5PM they lock the door, and then both of them gather their things up over the next 15-20 minutes before actually leaving. They are often out of sight, packing up in the back. Last Friday was one such day. At around 5:10 a lady came up to the door of the shop—a glass door. She saw me sitting there and started tapping on the door.

I looked up and mouthed, "The shop is closed!" She yelled back, "I have a question!" I pointed at my wrist and said loudly, "I'm sorry, the shop closes at 5 and I don't work here!" She grabbed the handle on the door and started shaking it as if she could magically make the door open, and then started pounding on the door again. So, I set down my laptop and walked over to the door.

She screamed, "I only have one question, can you let me in so I can talk to you?" At this point screaming was really not necessary as we were only separated by a glass door. I said, "Ma'am, I don't work here, and the door is locked from the inside by a key I don't have. I can't let you in!" She screamed, "Why are you being such a jerk? I know you're closed, but it's ONE QUESTION!"

Then, to emphasize her point, she slammed her open palm on the glass door. Which absolutely shattered. Honestly I've never seen anything like it. It's not like it cracked and spider-webbed out, it just went to shards and fell to the ground. Fortunately I had stepped back. The lady blinked in shock and then started to speed-walk away.

Fortunately, we are in a massive metropolitan city, and I was able to follow her only half a block before I saw an officer standing on the street. The officer walked us both back to the shop with the woman ranting about how it wasn't her fault and if I had just let her in, blah blah blah. She called for backup and two more officers arrived, and by this time my friend and her coworker had come up front.

They took another officer back to look at the security footage which is digitally captured, and that was pretty much that. Lady got detained on the spot and I had to give a statement, and I'm told I'll probably have to testify in court on behalf of the shop owner to get a civil penalty added onto the other charges and help them avoid small claims. Which I'll gladly do!

SkippingPebbless

21. Schooled Her

A few years ago, I was a sweet summer child freshly out of college with zero idea what I wanted to do with my life. I became a homeowner after maternal unit moved overseas and gave the house to me, and I decided to work for a house painting company for one summer while I got my metaphorical ducks in a row. The next summer, I was out of the painting business and working as an EMT, which meant sometimes I would have a full day or two off.

I noticed my house was in some need of paint touch ups, so I decided to do them myself. I had brushes, paint, nothing to do, and a sixer, so I went at it one Tuesday afternoon. So I’m working on the frame of the front door, dressed in old painter whites and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and I sit down to let the primer dry and have a cold one.

I’m happily perched on the front step when I notice a can-I-speak-to-your-manager haircut with a face that looks like she just ate 12 lemons staring at me from the sidewalk. My front lawn is decently long and slopes down a hill, but I could see an artery pulsing in her neck from my spot. She had a dog next to her, so I just wave and say, “Cute dog!”

I guess my words broke the floodgates, and she unleashed upon me a verbal attack of which I understood about 30%. The gist: “HOW DARE YOU DRINK ON THE JOB ON THIS NICE PROPERTY. YOU DON’T DESERVE TO SIT THERE AND WASTE THE HARD EARNED MONEY OF THE WELL-EDUCATED PERSON THAT OWNS THIS PLACE.”

While I’m pondering this, she’s still spewing frothing condescension at me, which culminated in: “UNEDUCATED, LAZY, MENIAL, FREELOADING, IMMIGRANT DRINKERS LIKE YOU ARE WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY.” Well, aside from the many problems in that sentence, I’m white. Like, really white. Blond hair, green eyes. Born and raised in the good old US of A. Specifically, in this house.

Perhaps I look like some sort of insidious immigrant from far away, so I stand up and make my way down to her, but not before cracking open another cold one. She’s positively quivering with anger and indignation, her dog is pulling at the leash to say hi to me, and so I bend down to say hello back, when she says “WELL, WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?”

I raise myself to my full 6’2” height, which towers over her little 5’ nothing self. She doesn’t back down, and the following conversation ensues. Me: “Hello ma’am, what seems to be the problem?” Her: scoffs “YOU. Sitting there wasting the homeowner’s money so you can get paid to be a lazy idiot.” Me: “Oh, I’m being paid? Seems odd, I didn’t feel the need to pay myself for this, but I suppose that could be fun to try.”

Her, gears turning: “Pay yourself? Don’t make me laugh, some deadbeat like you couldn’t afford this house. You need an education for a real job.” I’m wondering what her education fixation is all about, but not caring all that much, I just want to entertain her conversation enough to really get her mad. Maybe her head will explode.

Me: “Well, I didn’t buy this house, my mother did, but she left it to me when she moved overseas after I graduated from college.” Her, smirking: “Oh, did you go to local community college, known for not being that great? Only someone working as a painter would go there.” Me: “Actually, if you look at my shirt, you’ll see it says ‘Ivy League School Athletics’, which is where I attended school and played a sport. I am in good shape because of that, so I figured I would keep that up by working on improving my own home while having a few cold boys to cool off in this heat. Did you attend community college? Because if so, I can see how you might not be able to understand that.”

Disclaimer: nothing wrong with that CC. Just wanted to watch her boil, and oh boy, did she. Her eyes widen bigger than I thought possible, and her mouth starts working like elderly folks’ do when they’ve lost a lot of teeth, lots of lip twisting. This culminates in her rearing her ugly head back, and spitting on the front of my shirt. “You probably took that from someone, you ungrateful piece of trash.”

Okay, wow, not sure what I’m ungrateful for, and ew germs, so I tell her that’s it’s been fun but I’m going to continue working and turn to walk back up the lawn. She grabs the back of my shirt and attempts to pull me backward. It doesn’t work, so I spin around and smack her hand off me. She flops like a Premier League soccer player, flinging herself all over my lawn, howling like she’s been shot.

She’s let go of the dog’s leash, so he comes over to me for pets, happy as a clam. Her yodeling has brought some neighbors out of their homes, including my cool next door ones. They come over and I give them the story, and ask for their phone to call law enforcement. Mine was inside charging. They laugh and hand it over. I let the officers know that some maniac is gyrating loudly on my lawn, could they please come remove her.

I return to my work, my cool neighbors probably have started making popcorn. A little while later, I hear the officers arrive. Maniac is still singing her messed-up opera, and starts screaming at the authorities a story of a belligerent squatter (who’s painting said site of squatting??) who chased her with a baseball bat and broke her arm in multiple places.

Her talons point to me, so I come down and tell the boys the whole story. They crack up, apparently they know the nutcase by name, and so they tell her to call her husband to get the dog “again,” and cuff her for trespassing and disorderly conduct. Dog hung out with me until the husband, apologizing profusely, came and got him.

He also informed me that they are in divorce proceedings, so that may have made her “crazier than usual.” Never saw the lady again, thank god, but have developed a neighborly friendship with her ex and the pup. All’s well that ends well.

PumpkinSpiceWhatever

22. Who’s The Turkey Now?

This happened a couple of months ago. Back story, I'm a youth worker and part of my job involves taking clients to a bowling alley. I do this a few times a week, sometimes more than once a day, and usually at odd times, so the place is basically my second office and we have a good relationship with the proprietors. During the quiet hours, they only have two staff working; one in the office/front-desk/cafe and one behind the scenes.

It means that often there's a bit of standing around waiting when the front of house staff member is in a different area. Myself and the other weekday regulars (mostly senior bowlers) are used to it. It actually works well for me because part of what I'm doing there is teaching my clients social skills and coping strategies, so having to occupy yourself and be patient and polite is a good teaching moment.

My client and I have finished bowling, and we're sitting at the cafe eating and talking quietly when a man approaches the unattended cafe and immediately starts huffing and pacing restlessly. I side-eye him, but keep talking to the kid. A minute later he comes and looms over our table and says "EXCUSE ME" in an aggressive tone.

Now I've got my calm neutral face on but inside I've started gibbering because the kids can get pretty protective of us, and they are fighters. "Yes?" I enquired politely, keeping one eye on the kid, one hand on my phone, and a vapid smile on my face. "How 'bout you do your job?" He leaned down over the table. His breath was as unpleasant as the rest of him.

I was surprised, because sitting at a bowling alley eating curly fries with a 15-year-old at 10 am on a Tuesday WAS my job, and I was doing it well, thank you very much! I was also alarmed because said 15-year-old has become very still and very tense. Not good. I moved back in my seat and resumed the vapid smiling. "Oh, sorry, I don't work here. Sometimes you have to wait a minute for someone to see you and come over, but otherwise maybe try the front desk?"

"Well you're dressed like you work 'ere!" He leaned over more and jabbed (JABBED! HE JABBED ME!) my chest. The staff at this bowling alley wear black trousers and violently orange polo shirts, that match the violently orange walls. Awful. I was wearing baggy hippy pants, my purple tee, and a sparkly sequinned backpack. And a lanyard with the word "staff" printed on it.

I held up the company ID card at the end of the lanyard, which identified me as an employee of the non-profit I work for. "No, sorry, I work for [company name]. We're customers here. Now if you don't mind, you're being very rude." [me, trying to role model, terrified] I smiled my best 'everything is fine' smile to the kid eyeing the cutlery bucket.

"Don't talk to me like that you little witch! I want three cold ones and some freaking wings." He actually smacked the table with his hand. I looked over to the main area. Oh goody, he has friends. I leaned back as far as I could (the wall was behind me, tables either side, and him blocking my exit). The kid stood up. Bad. Staff member spotted us and started rushing over. Good.

We had a time for a few rounds of "I want to speak to your manager" "I don't work here though, please let me out" before the actual manager of the bowling alley reached us. He pulled the guy away so I could get up, but dude wants to speak to my manager and won't let up. Manager says "I am the manager here." Dude: "You're her manager?" Manager:"...no, she doesn't work here..."

Dude, to me: "I want to speak to your manager NOW" At this point I figured, why not, handed him one of our company business cards, and said, "Ask for [my manager's name]". He turned away to dial the number and I grabbed the kid and whispered "now watch him make an idiot of himself". Kid laughs and relaxes a bit and the three of us stand in a row and watch this dummy call my actual manager and complain that I wouldn't serve him chicken wings.

My manager actually took the complaint on an official form and made me sign it when I got back to the office as a joke. Meanwhile, dude is banned, the bowling alley gave the kid a huge pile of free arcade tokens in apology, and I was able to get him to give me back the knife he took before I dropped him home. Wins all round.

NeverEverEatPears

23. See Much Evil

I am a 18-year-old male, born completely deaf and mute. Also, I am partially blind in my left eye. I live with my sister, who had been taking care of me since our parents passed on. Recently, she got married and went on her honeymoon. So I was on my own for a few weeks. This happened yesterday. Usually, whenever I go out I am accompanied by my sister due to my disability.

But now, since she is away on her honeymoon, I had to go out alone. There was a new supermarket open in our area, and I needed some items, so decided to go there and grab them. My bad for wearing a red-colored shirt almost similar to the employee uniform. But if you look closely, you could see that it was not the uniform.

I was at the electronics section looking for some batteries, when I see an old man struggling to get some DVDs at the top shelf. Since I am tall, I helped him. He thanked me—I can do lip reading—and went on his way. Then I began looking for the batteries. That's when I felt someone grab my left wrist. I couldn’t believe what happened next. I turned around and a women in her late 40s slapped me.

She was speaking something, but I couldn't follow her lips as she spoke too fast. However, I was able to catch some words like 'you', 'ignore', 'job', etc. So, I signed to her that I am deaf. Apparently, this was a wrong move, because she became more irate toward my signs. Again, she was yelling something but I couldn't catch anything.

So, I took my notebook and started writing that I am deaf and mute. Before I could finish, she grabbed my notebook and pen and threw them away. Then she slapped me again and pushed me to the ground. Luckily, by this time a store employee came to see what the commotion was about. He saw me on the ground and helped me up. Then he asked me what happened.

Before I can sign to him, Karen starts to yell at the employee. I don't know that she said as she was not facing me. After she finished, I sign to employee that I cannot hear or speak. Fortunately, he understood and explained this to the lady. But she is still not convinced. She tries to attack me again, but I moved away.

Then I wrote a note and showed it to the employee. It said to call the authorities on her. The employee nodded and called them. Karen tried to run away, but the security caught her. They arrived in about 10 minutes. They first talked to the employee who explained the situation, about how Karen attacked me because she mistook me for a store employee.

One officer comes and speaks to me. I understood that he wanted my version of events, so I wrote everything down and showed it to the officer. Then they went to check the CCTV footage. Then came back and asked me if I wanted to press charges. I gladly said yes. Karen was then placed in handcuffs and given a free ride at the back of a cruiser.

The manager then explained to me that Karen thought I worked there and she became angry that I ignored her. She had been standing on my left side, so obviously I couldn't see her. The store manager then offered me a 50% discount on the products. That’s not the best part. I texted my sister about the events that happened and she was livid. Oh, did I mention that my sister is a lawyer? She told me that she will be making sure she’s involved in the case and would see to it that Karen would get the maximum time.

PraveenShankar007

24. Clean Up Your Act

I'm a small Chinese woman living in a predominately white neighbourhood. Our house have a large front yard, and we like to do the gardening ourselves. I don't speak with an accent, and I usually use a very English name for easy communication. I called for a free estimate from a local duct-cleaning service, and scheduled it on a Saturday.

My mom and I were in the front yard planting flowers and weeding, chatting family stuff in our own language while enjoying the nice weather outside. We were in full gardening gear complete with straw hats and rain boots with face masks on. A white truck with a trailer drove up and a mid-aged man jumped out. The guy, waving me down, says, “Hey! Where is the owner of the house?”

I say, “Oh, you must be the duct-cleaning service, please come in with me.” The, guy, annoyed, says “No, I need to speak with the landlord.” I say, “I am the landlord. Do you need to come in the house for the esti—.” The guy cuts me off, saying, “No, I need to speak to the person who made the call!” I pull out my phone and say, “Ok, hold on.” I dial the company number, and the guy in front of me pulls out his phone and says: “See? The landlord is calling me.”

Over the phone, I say “Hi, I'm [english name]. I'm standing right in front of you. I don't think I will be needing your services today. Goodbye.” The guy stood there dumbstruck for a moment, then sulkily walked back to his truck and left. My mom looked at me confused and asked in Chinese, "What was that?" I shrugged and answered, "looks like we need to call another duct-cleaning company".

Eudemon

25. Fight Fire With Fire

This happened yesterday, I was in Canadian Tire, for all of you non-Canadians It's like a mix between a Walmart, a home depot, a bass pro shops, and an auto shop. I was wearing jeans and an old red polo shirt. The employees there wear black pants and a red polo with a triangle and maple leaf logo on the chest. I was getting wipers for my car.

They have this touch screen thing there where you select the vehicle and it tells you the specific sizes you need for each wiper and brand. I was fiddling with the screen and going through the different sizes and makes of wipers and reading reviews on each one. I research everything before I buy it, drives my wife crazy. I hear someone behind me say excuse me.

I think she wants to use the screen to figure out what wiper to buy, so I move to the section that has the wiper brand I'm interested in and start looking for the size I need. My assumption was wrong. She followed me to where I was now poking through the very badly stocked wipers. She says, "Why did you walk away from me, that's very rude."

I didn't even know she was talking to me at this point. So I kept looking at wipers. She goes: "This is unbelievable! I'm talking to you." I finally click in that I'm the one she's talking to. So I stupidly turn to face her while gripping a 28-inch wiper like a toddler holds a crayon. I ask her: "You talking to me?" She says: "Yeah you. I need to know what size wiper to get for my Mercedes."

I reply: "That's what the screen is for," as I gesture toward it with the wiper in my hand and go back to searching for the second elusive 28-incher that I need. Then she says: "You are terrible at your job, this isn't proper customer service." She was all huffy. I go: "Umm, I don't work here. I'm gonna go back to this now."

My ordeal wasn’t over yet. She tells me: "I want to speak to your manager right now. This isn't how you treat customers. Ignoring me and refusing to help me, it’s disgraceful." At this point she kind of stomps off, but only a few aisles away, and the aisles in the automotive department aren't full height ones, they are like chest-height so you can see right across the whole department.

She just does a few laps of the aisles around where I am, she's looking all over the place for a manager but not going far, I guess so she doesn't lose sight of me. I say: "Still don't work here. So going to be hard to find that manager...and you're not listening to me...ok... " I trail off as she's obviously not caring at all. I go back to my wipers.

While she's on her walk I find my wiper and start to head towards the check outs. She chases me down and gets in front of me, trying to stop my escape before a manager gets there. She goes: "No! You're not allowed to leave until I speak to your manager about you!" I've had enough of this buffoon. I pull out my phone and do the only thing I can. I call my manager.

I'm self-employed, so I call the one person in my life who could reasonably be called my manager. The wife. I say to the lady: "I'll call her for you, you aren't going to be able to find her here." I put it on speaker phone so the crazy lady can hear. As the phone rings she's giving me this superior smirk like I'm about to get my behind chewed out.

We make small talk. The crazy lady is getting really frustrated at this point, I'm obviously not getting to the me getting fired fast enough for her. My wife asks me why I’m calling when she’s at work and I say: "Got a lady here at Canadian Tire who wants to talk to my manager. I kind of thought you're the closest thing to that. Want to talk to her?"

She’s like, “Am I on speaker phone?” I reply: "Oh yeah, the crazy lady can hear you, how else is she supposed to talk to my manager? Say hi to the crazy lady." The crazy lady is finally starting to realize that I don't have a store logo on my shirt, and that maybe I'm not an employee. My wife says: "You're such a dummy. I'm sorry ma'am, my husband is an idiot. But he doesn't work there."

I start to laugh at this point. "It's cool hon, she seems kind of slow or something. She probably doesn't realize I'm laughing at her," I say through my laughter while the woman makes some kind of appalled noise from the back of her throat and stalks off. I managed to get my wipers and leave the store after that without any further incident.

My wife thinks I was mean to her. I say I was fighting stupidity with more stupidity.

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26. Gladys Chose The Losing Team

Oh boy, I'm tired of being recognized. I live in a relatively small podunk college town, with three grocery stores, a terrible mall, and a slightly decent downtown. Because I work in one of those grocery stores, in the pharmacy, I'm often identified when I'm out and about, and for some reason, I just look like I work there, wherever this mythical there is.

I've just finished watching a movie at our local dying mall, having gone myself since I just wanted to get away for a while. As I'm exiting the theater, I hear that dreaded voice, the entitled call of the snooty customer. "HEY! HEY YOU!" I turn around, and see your average soccer mom, with bleach blond hair and a purse big enough to brain a camel, carrying a large collection of trash.

She's holding the trash with one hand, her struggling child with the other, and stares at me pointedly. I don't want to believe what's about to happen, but I steel myself. "Yes?" "Throw this away." No please, no asking, just a demand. I glance to a trash can that's only five feet from where she's standing. "Why?" Oh, you'd think I'd just offered to split her child in half in front of her with a broadsword.

"You work at (big box store), you're used to this!" Amazing. She knows I don't work there, but she still thinks I'm put on this earth to serve her. I just roll my eyes and turn away, scooting towards the bathroom. "Sorry ma'am, gotta pee." And I do just that, taking a quick leak and a long time washing my hands. By the time I exit, the woman and her kid are gone.

I figure that's all that's going to happen with this, just some entitled person who thinks that I work in retail she can just treat me like an indentured servant. Oh boy, was I wrong. Two days later I'm back at work, just doing my thing slinging pills at the pharmacy, when one of our most hated managers shows up. Let's call her Gladys. Passive-aggressive, snobby, and more than happy to toss her weight around.

"Would you come with me, please?" I am a bit shocked, since I've not been in trouble with this job for over five years, and my mind immediately starts spinning through anything I may have done in the past week or so. Gladys takes me back to the manager office, picks up some papers, and has a seat. "I had a complaint about you the other day from a customer."

I sink down, trying not to shake with panic. What have I done? "She says you were very rude to her at the movie theater the other day, and refused to help her." Silence. I just blink a few times at Gladys. "I'm sorry, what?" Gladys repeats the accusation. "When you work for this company, you represent us, even when you're not on the clock. Now, I'm only going to give you a coaching, but I want you to watch what you do in the future."

I tell her, "no." Gladys looks back at me in shock. Did I just say no to her? "What do you mean, no?" "I said, no. I'm not taking a coaching for something that happened off the clock." I lean forward, folding my hands in my lap and glaring at her. "Why are there no other managers here? Why's my pharmacy manager not here? Shouldn't he be here when I'm being coached by someone that's not even over my department?”

“Speaking of which, where's our department manager? Could you show me where in the code of conduct handbook it says I can't refuse to clean up after someone when I'm not on the clock? Doesn't it say in the training videos we watch when we start NOT to work off the clock?" Gladys is doing her best impression of a gaping fish by this point, eyes wide and staring back at me.

I don't think she was expecting the happy go lucky nerd in the pharmacy to take such a hard line and not just roll over to her casual bullying. I stood up and opened the door. "If you want to take it up with my manager, please do. But do know that if I hear anything about this, I'll take this all the way to the store manager, your boss. Corporate, if I have to."

I left, shaking with anger. I'd heard others in the store complain about this manager before and how she'd try to toss her weight around, but I'd never had it happen to me before. I don't know if the original customer was a friend of Gladys’s and she thought she'd get some revenge, but I never heard anything else on the matter. Two months later, Gladys was let go in a store re-structuring.

Every other manager was shifted or re-assigned, but she was the only one to be shown the door.

wyattkelly

27. Trial By Fire

I am a fire investigator for insurance companies. A few days ago I was at a fire at a super common fast food restaurant helping another investigator process the scene and dig. All the fun parts of my job without any of the responsibility or report writing. I was in black coveralls and my black Carhart with a baseball hat and a regular N95 mask because fires and fast food restaurants are gross, you know?

I looked in no way like a restaurant employee. Even with the black clothes you could tell I was covered in soot and debris—and what restaurant employee wears an N95 that’s been stained black? I was standing outside in the parking lot with another investigator that was there and we were chatting, taking a break from being in the grossness from inside.

The parking lot has been filled with debris. On one end of the parking lot there’s a 9 foot tall pile of random burnt stuff. On the other end of the parking lot in front of the drive thru are all the roof ventilation systems that are half burnt and melted in a big pile along with a whole assortment of burnt stuff. There’s caution tape everywhere.

There is fire debris haphazardly strewn throughout the area. There’s a very visible hole burnt in the top of this building. There’s a fire engine parked at one entrance of the parking lot with their lights on blocking the entrance. There was no way to misunderstand what had happened at this building. Unless you’re the world’s biggest idiot.

A man in an old van drives by with his window down slowly staring at us. He has this inquisitive look on his face. He drives past the first entrance, then attempts to turn into the entrance blocked by the fire engine. He backs out, turns around, then turns back into the other entrance, headed right for us. I say us, but the other investigator wisely caught on to what was about to happen and whispered “good luck” and hauled his behind back inside, leaving me alone with van guy. Jerk.

Anyway, van guy drives around the big pile of ash and stops in front of me. He says, “Hey... what happened here?” I replied for what feels like the millionth time in my career, “There was a fire.” He says “Oh, what started it?” And for the millionth time I replied, "That’s what we’re here to find out.” He says “Oh ok. Well can I have a cheeseburger and a medium fry?”

Trying very hard to not say what I truly wanted to say which was some variation of “Do I look like a fast food worker?” I told him that no, there was a fire, you can’t have a cheeseburger. He then proceeded to ask “Well, can I have a large Coke then?” Again, no there was a fire, you can’t have a Coke. You know how you can see when someone has a moment where they have a moment and it finally clicks?

This guy had that. He looks at me and asks very intently if I work there. I say no, I’m here investigating the fire. He then asks another stupid question, and I’ll never forget it. “So they’re closed. But why?” Feeling like I’ve met the universe’s densest star, I replied because there was a fire. He finally just says, “Oh ok. Well bye.” And just drives away and out of my life. I’m still not sure he truly understood why he couldn’t have his food.

Fireinvestigator113

28. A Losing Bet

So I have a hobby-like job working for a casino party company. They get contracted by companies to come out and set up some casino tables so their employees can “fake” gamble just for fun, during their parties/events. Most of the time employees buy tickets (like 1 ticket for $50 and a ticket is worth $2000 in fake chips) and that’s how they play.

You can then turn in your chips for “Prize tickets” and go through a raffle to win prizes at the end. It’s a lot of fun, and easy money for someone in college, like yours truly. We had a gig last night at a nice hotel ballroom, for a really good company too, I won’t list the name. We’re required to dress in all black, with a button up shirt and slacks.

We look just like the actual staff of the hotel, but with a name tag with our “‘Owner’s’ Casino Parties” text on it. So I can sort of see why I’d be mistaken for the hotel staff. Cue in a really good night, having fun, good people, good table dealing. I swap out with someone to freely take a break, and walk about and grab a drink of water. Now here’s where it goes completely downhill.

A woman comes to me and asks for a refill on her drink. I say, “Sorry! I don’t work here, I’m one of the dealers at the tables. I can grab someone for you though!” There’s a bit of back and forth, she won’t believe me—you know the drill. I say I’ll grab someone who can help her, then she stepped on my foot as I stepped away. I took my foot back and now I was a little angry, because I’m wearing some nice shoes here, that I paid for, and I am proud of that because I’m poor.

That’s it, I’ve had it. I tell her to find someone else and not to step on their shoes. She now grabs the attention of an actual waitstaff member and asks her to grab the manager and she hesitantly does, and I was actually stunned. I say, “You do understand I DONT WORK HERE.” She says, “Keep saying that to me, you’ll regret it.” Then the manager comes.

She tells him I’m refusing to serve her. He looks at me and asked my name, and I pointed at my name tag and told him, and he immediately knew I didn’t work here. Manager says, “I’m sorry but he doesn’t work here, can I get your drink?” She FREAKS OUT at this. Like full blown SCREECHES. “This is stupid! I’m not an idiot!” She proceeds to GRAB my water and flings it at me and it gets all over me!!

The manager tells her to leave. She starts throwing what I can only say is a tantrum, and then gets escorted out by the security they had on site. The table she was at had 10 of her tickets. TEN. She also had redeemed some earlier too. That’s over $500 she spent. With no prizes. She waited until after the party was over to speak to MY manager (So about 2 hours, when we were breaking down the set up) and demanded a refund.

He denied her and said she can go on her merry way, and told her the exact reason she couldn’t was because she dumped water on his employee and he won’t stand for that. She stormed out after bickering for what seemed forever.

RisenRain

29. Two Can Play At This Game

Yesterday at about 2:30 I was shopping at my local smiley face box store. As I usually do, I stop and check their app to figure out what aisle stuff is on since they did a reset a few months ago, and I haven’t yet become accustomed to the layout. While standing in the aisle searching the app, I hear a very loud throat clearing sound. It was at that point I knew I had my opportunity to try a new tactic.

This lady didn’t look like the stereotype Karen, she had red highlights and curly hair. She goes: “Ahem! Excuse me! Hey!” Her hand was on her hip, and her head was tilted in that I’m about to go off on you way that Karens get before threatening a manager. I reply: “Yes?” She says: “I’ve been waiting over here for 10 minutes.” I cut her off mid-sentence. I felt a bit cheeky.

I say: “Oh my goodness. I’m sorry you had to wait. Why didn’t you get my attention sooner. Since you're here now, can you check the back for this Homedic foot spa? The app said you have one in stock, but the slot is empty.” Confused, she says: “I…uh…you’re supposed to be helping me.” Me: “I am? Well I guess I can go back with you to check. I’m not exactly sure how that would work, but I’m game.”

She says, “Excuse me? You’re the one who works here.” I reply: “Pretty sure I don’t. However, judging by your blue shirt, you’re the employee I requested 15 minutes ago. Do you have any idea what it’s like to wait that long for an employee? Then have them lie and say they don’t work here?” She still doesn’t get it. She says: “I don’t work here. What are you even talking about?”

Me: “Well then why would you come up to a customer who is obviously waiting for somebody and then tell them you had been waiting for their attention for 10 minutes?” She says: “I didn’t.” I reply: “Yes, you did. Now don’t lie to me twice. Do we need to get your manager up here?” At this point she lets out the loudest “hmmph” type of sound and walks out mouthing something under her breath.

I continued my shopping and ultimately checked out. Probably the most fun I’ve ever had diffusing a situation without the use of profanity, and without an actual employee getting involved.

Spydyr2018

30. Grand Theft Golf Cart

I work golf maintenance at a very fancy golf course during the summers while in college and I did it in high school too. I was working the driving range one day and getting stuff ready and this lady is hitting golf balls and decides to come over to me, red in the face, and say “Excuse me young man, you aren’t allowed to use that cart, didn’t your grandparents tell you?”

I say to her, “Ma’am, I work here, I’m most definitely allowed to use the cart.” She then looks like she is sucking a lemon and says, “Don’t lie to me, I know you’re staying with your grandparents for 4th of July and you took a cart from one of those Mexicans who actually work here trying to be cute.” I was floored. I had no idea what to say because I couldn’t believe she felt the need to not only be prejudiced towards my coworkers/friends but also condescending towards me.

I just go, “Alright ma’am, I need to get back to work.” She grabs my arm and says “No, you’re coming with me, I know the general manager and he will throw you out personally.” I grin and say, “Alright fine then I’ll come with you. We take her cart back to the clubhouse and go in to the general manager’s office. She goes through the whole rant saying how I took a cart and pretended to be an employee and got very loud.

Then, after she finished, she says, “What do you have to say for yourself?” I turn to the GM and say, “Well Dad, you see the thing is...” and she interjects “Wait, this is your son?? You let your son go and steal carts from the help?” My father just says, “Ma’am he works here, there is no problem.” She got extremely embarrassed and just left.

Gojiraandrugby

31. Me Tarzan, You Karen

So in the 90s, I rented a large workshop with two friends. I was a woodworker and the other two were metal workers. As a result, none of our work resembled the previous business, which had installed skylights, in any way. Well, in walks a customer of the previous business. I have condensed this, as the verbatim conversation went on for a very long time.

She arrives at my door and without saying hello she says: "I need repairs done to the skylights you installed." I reply: "Sorry, that business has moved and I don't know where they are now." She says: "No, I need you to send someone over NOW. The skylights are leaking." I reply, "As I said, that business has gone. We are a different company."

She’s not listening. She yells: "No, RIGHT NOW!" Repeat the above a half dozen times. At this point, I am realizing I am dealing with either a genuine looney or someone too entitled to listen to plain common sense. I try another tact—caveman speech. Who knows, it might get through. So I grunt: "Skylight business gone. New business come. You talking to new business now. Unnerstand?”

She’s stammering, so I yell: "Nooooo skylight here!!! Try look in the friggin’ phone book! You bugger off now!" She then leaves in a big huff. It's all about communication folks.

permalink

32. Hush, Little Baby(s)

My husband is a peaceful giant. He is 6’5” tall and can look quite imposing even though he really is a teddy bear. Never stressed or aggressive, never overreacting or raising his voice, just a peaceful giant. So here we are, at the grocery shop, with our six-month-old baby shopping for food and whatnot. It is winter in Canada (so, you know, cold) and we are both wearing our coats.

The kid is fussy and nothing really calms him except when we carry him in our arms. It is my turn and my husband is going back and forth gathering what we need and bringing the items to our cart. Suddenly this banshee of a woman got in his face—a figure of speech, because she was like 5’2”—and started yelling at him. She says: “ARE YOU DONE? You've been helping her FOREVER and I NEED HELP! NOW!”

My husband, with his smooth everything-is-good kind of tone, says, “I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid I do not work here...” She yells: “LIAR! I just saw you help HER shopping. NOW, you help ME! AND YOU DO NOT TALK BACK TO ME!” He tried to interrupt her but she yells: “STOP! Don't talk to me unless it is to thank me. Are we clear?”

My husband sees me boiling and about to interfere but makes a sign that's says he is going to deal with it. He then calmly look at her with a smile. She says, “GOOD! Now, help me grab the last (item I don't remember, probably some king of condiment) on this high shelf. WHY do you people always put the stuff I need so high?! Now, chop-chop!” My husband grabs the item, but instead of giving it to her, he keeps it just a tiny bit out of her reach. He was about to teach her a lesson.

He looks at it and then at me. He grins and says, “Honey, do we need (condiment)?” I catch on and say, “Well, as a matter of fact, yes! We do!” The lady yells, “WHAT?! HOW DARE YOU GIVE HER MY STUFF! IT'S MY STUFF! GIVE IT TO ME!!!” Super slowly, my husband gets closer to the lady. He is so imposing that she calms down immediately.

With the biggest of smile and the most polite voice ever, he says to her: “Again, I do not work here...but thank you for showing me (condiment). We were about to forget it.” And with that, he puts the item in our cart, grabs the baby and together, we left. In the background, the lady howling some profanities. All three of us smiling. I love my husband.

poweredbyweirdhumor

33. A Particular Set Of Skills

In the UK there is a system for preserving ancient and important buildings. If a building has historical importance it is known as a "Listed building" and the rules about how it's developed/maintained/improved are VERY strict. I need to be vague about the work involved otherwise it's too easy to identify the parties involved.

My friend David is skilled in a very niche area of construction. He repairs and renovates buildings using a very old construction method that hasn't been common for several centuries. All his work is on conservation projects and "listed buildings." Work was required on a Grade 1 listed property. The overall building work was being done by the main contractor, ACC Ltd.

One part of the work is VERY specialized. The contractor’s managers didn't know anyone who did it so the architect gave them a list of qualified people. The contractors chose my friend because he had the earliest availability. Five days into the work, the owner of ACC Ltd., the main contractor company, arrived on site. This is when things started to go downhill very fast.

He was throwing his weight around and being a "noisy idiot" (David's words). David was just doing his job and ignored him. Noisy idiot told one of his carpenters to get him a coffee. The carpenter disappeared. Noisy idiot continued wandering and "gobbing off" about delays "costing him a fortune." 15 minutes after the carpenter had disappeared, the Noisy Idiot asked my friend a question.

Noisy Idiot : "Where is that bloody carpenter with my coffee?" David: "Don't know." Noisy Idiot: "Go and find out." David: "I'm only here for this job (pointing to the walls), I don't work for ACC Ltd." Noisy Idiot: "I don't care if you're an employee or a subcontractor, you still work for me. Now go and find my bloody coffee."

David: "Firstly, I don't appreciate being talked to like that and secondly, my contract with you is to do these walls, nothing more. I'm definitely not a gopher." Noisy Idiot: "Oh, you don't appreciate being talked to like that, do you? Which subcontractor do you work for?" David: "None. I'm self-employed. It's just me."

Noisy Idiot : "A bloody day laborer? And you've got the nerve to talk to like that? Do you know who I am?" David: "Yep." Noisy Idiot: "Well you're bloody fired. Get off the bloody site NOW!" David: "Okay, put it in writing." Noisy Idiot : "Oh please. Just get off the bloody site." David pulled his phone out and started recording.

David: "Okay, I'll go. I just want proof you told me to go." Noisy Idiot grabbed David's hand holding the phone and screamed into the phone. Noisy Idiot: "GET OFF THE SITE YOU BLOODY IDIOT. YOU'RE FIRED. IF YOU'RE STILL HERE IN 10 MINUTES I'LL HAVE YOU THROWN OUT." David: "Cool, no problem." He picked up all his kit and walked away.

As he was leaving, the site manager passed him (ironically, with a coffee for the boss) and with a smile said. Site Manager: "You leaving early Dave? Bloody part-timers (he was joking)." David: "No, your boss just fired me. Our contract is ended. Sorry mate." Site Manager: "Noooo. Noo, no. Let me sort this out. Wait, please. Please, wait." David left.

The Site Manager was losing his mind because he knew something that Noisy Idiot didn't. Only seven people in the UK are qualified to do the work. They all have a waiting list and David had been the only one available. By the time he was home he had 12 missed calls. That was Thursday. Two working days missed so far. He said he'll go back but only if he gets paid for the extra days and has a genuine apology in person from the boss.

I met my friend when he was getting a call from the Site Manager saying the boss apologizes but is "out of the country" so can't apologize face to face. The idiot boss really got what he deserved. David also told me he phoned the other specialists to warn them but they'd all been phoned on Friday begging them to do the job. Nobody took the work. They're all booked solid.

MostlyGruntled

34. No Way Out

This happened about four years ago when I was looking for work. I got a second interview for a “marketing” position at a new firm. The interview went well and I was offered a trial shift the following Monday. On turning up, it became clear that this wasn't a marketing job, but a door-to-door sales job for what was basically a huge MLM.

The “service” was to sign people up for charities on monthly donations. To make matters worse, we were told to lie to consumers about our pay status. We weren't supposed to tell people that and had to tell them we were salaried. We weren't—I only found out during the trial that it was commission only. So far, not so good.

When they “offer” me the “job” I let them know I have another interview lined up the following day and tell them I'll let them know by the end of the week. The interview goes well, it's a real (albeit temporary role) and I'm offered the job. I inform the MLM of my decision. This is somehow a 30-minute call where he's still trying to convince me to work for him, with me saying I'm not interested at all.

Fast forward to the next Monday and I'm rudely awakened at 9:15 with a phone call. I answer because I hadn't saved this number. It’s a guy from the MLM yelling: “Where the heck are you?!?!?” I’m like, “Sorry? wh-“ MLM guy cuts me off, saying “You were meant to be here at 8:30. This isn't a good start to your first day, is it? Why are you so late?”

I’m still half-asleep so I ask: “Sorry but who is this?” MLM guy identifies himself—it’s not the guy I interviewed with. He says: “You know the company who YOU work for, it's too late now your team has left, you better be on time tomorrow.” I say, “Sorry there must've been a misunderstanding, I got offered a job elsewhere and accepted that role, sorry for this.”

He yells, “Well, you should have told us this, it's not professional to just not turn up and we would've hired someone else, now your team is short staffed...” I’m like “Not my problem, check with my interviewer, anyway I need to go, bye.” Hoping this is resolved, I get up and go about my day. Tuesday morning, I am again awakened to the same guy demanding reasons for me not turning up to work.

Apparently, not working for them isn't a valid excuse. This amazing sequence of calls continued until the following Monday, where I was “let go” for “unauthorized” absences. When I asked if this means he'll stop phoning me, he told me to grow up and be professional about it. Think I dodged a bullet there...

GingrPenguin

35. Brings A New Meaning To Customer “Service”

I used to be a service consultant at a Mercedes-Benz dealership. A guy in his 20s just bought an older car & comes in for the first time so I help him out. I get all his info & create a new customer profile in our database; this takes about five-ten minutes so I usually casually talk to the customer during the process. I notice he looks tired so I ask him if he worked third shift or something, since it was about 8:00 AM.

He mentions he’s been up all night as a “bodyguard” for his wife—then he hands me a camouflage business card with her cam girl name & web address all over it. He casually mentions, “If you ever get feeling a little lonely, give her a look online.” I put the card on my desk, he signs the repair order, I verify the phone number I’ll need to call later that day to get approval for repairs.

A few hours later after the technician has diagnosed the car’s problem, I call the number and a woman answers. I say, “Hey there, I’m calling from Mercedes.” The woman, in a quiet, bedroomy voice asks: “Did you send the picture?” Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.” She says: “You’re supposed to send me a picture of yourself before we start playing, then maybe we’ll meet up.”

I say: “I apologize again but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I started to wonder if I dialed the wrong number. Right here I realize this is the wife and she thinks I’m trying to party. So I say: “This is the Mercedes-Benz dealership. I’m calling about your Mercedes-Benz. Your car needs to be serviced, not me.” Her voice changes instantly and she starts talking normally. “Oh, so what’s going on with the car?”

After the call, I took the business card and ran back to the shop to tell all the techs what happened.

mozilathelaptopkilla

36. Let Me Upgrade You

I was in a dollar store trying to check out but delayed because Karen was busy complaining to the cashier about the quality of the products in the dollar store. To which I said, "Karen, if you don't like the quality here, then go somewhere more upscale like Walmart...or if you got the budget...Target." I was just trying to help, of course. She then asked for a manager, cause that's what Karens do.

The manager came and for the next solid two minutes she was complaining to the manager about how her staff was very rude and suggested she should shop at Walmart or Target how insane it is to hire staff that promotes the competition. The cashier is smirking, I'm smiling from ear to ear. Karen finishes off with, "If I was you, I'd fire such an employee!" to which the manager said "Which employee said that?"

Karen and the cashier all pointed at me, there standing with a my Coke and a bag of chips. To which the manager goes "Ma’am, he's not an employee." Karen goes, "Then why is he here?" Manager looks at me and looks at her and goes "…buying stuff?"

PJExpat

37. Mother Doesn’t Know Best

I had a rather terrible Memorial Day weekend, long and rather boring story short I had a seizure and face-planted my bedroom door. After a fun ride to the hospital on back board and neck brace a whole bunch of tests followed and I was admitted because as it turns out my auto-immune condition is quite being managed as well as I thought it was.

After the first couple days sleeping off the concussion and medication side effects I make it to the third day and feel well enough to walk around and even make a trip to the cafeteria downstairs to get something better than the standard hospital food. Now I didn’t really have much in the way of clothing—my wife brought my favorite hoodie and clean underthings, but forgot pants of all things—so a really nice nurse scrounged up a pair of the hospital’s blue scrub pants for me.

So, I was happily free of the IV cart for the next few hours and decided to get some chocolate milk and maybe a tasty snack to treat myself and lift my spirits a bit. But it ended up being a rather sad, frustrating affair before I could even make it onto the elevator. I’m pretty slow walking but I’m just content to not be confined to bed or tangled in tubes so I enjoy the sunlight and make friendly conversation with the day shift nurses as I pass by. Sometimes it’s the small things that make me happy. But all that happiness goes away in an instant.

I make it to the waiting area and elevator lobby when a 60-year-old woman with the sourest expression on her face steps off the elevator—like sucked on a whole barrel of lemons type of sour, lips puckered up tighter than a cat’s you-know-what sour. So I try to give her a wide berth but Pucker Face isn’t having it, she marches straight up to me and gets well into my personal space and starts demanding that I take her to her son’s room and give her an immediate run down of his medical ailments.

This is just how she started the conversation. She yells, “Finally, one of you lazy jerks is going to take me to my son’s hospital room and explain to me my baby boy’s condition. I’m his mother after all and that wife of his just hasn’t been taking care of him like she should be.” I basically was like…what? She started berating me and calling me names.

When I tell her I don’t work there, she points out my scrubs. I explain the situation, nope. I show her my patient bracelet with my allergies listed. Nope, she still doesn’t believe me. She tells me she’s going to get me fired. I point down the hall to the head nurse, and suggest that acting like a jerk to people, especially nurses, is a great way to get thrown out of the hospital.

By this time a couple nurses come over—all of them have clear name badges and credentials on display as well as these little communication devices that are like Star Trek Communicators but look and perform a lot less cool. The head nurse, who was so sweet just like all the ones I had during my stay, had taken on the scary resting face that would make me think twice, but it didn’t even scare crazy Pucker Face.

She barges right up to the nurse and demands to be taken to her son, spouting off his name and date of birth to basically everyone on the floor and then demands that I be fired. The head nurse deadpans with a chill game I’m rather envious of, saying, “She doesn’t work here and I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from yelling and harassing people. This is a hospital and people are trying to heal and rest.”

The woman says, “I understand, but this woman isn’t letting me see my son and he needs his mommy right now. She needs to be dealt with for being such a terrible, irresponsible nurse.” The head nurse explains I don’t work there. She still won’t believe it. She’s basically a broken record calling for me to get fired like she’s forgotten why she’s here in the first place.

Head Nurse is calm and has explained it as many different ways as she possibly can and is starting to rub her temples with what must be a nasty headache—finally after a couple seconds of silence, she turns to me. She says, “Hey, you’re fired okay?” Me: “…okay?...” The nurse says, “Go on now, get on your way.” I get on the elevator and head downstairs, incredibly grateful to be away from that monstrous woman and go to collect my well-deserved prize and text my wife about the whole thing—she’ll find it hilarious. What happened next was the perfect revenge.

It turns out when they look up information for her son—who happens to be two rooms down from mine—he specifically said his mother is on the list of people who absolutely under no circumstances could be allowed to visit. So, I watched her get dragged kicking, screaming, and biting through the hospital’s main lobby when I was returning from the cafeteria.

The chocolate milk and cookies were twice as tasty after that. The son turned up that evening to apologize for his mother since news of the crazy lady spread across the floor like wild fire. He and his family were really cool. Looks like we’re going to be physical therapy buddies now and we can swap crazy mom stories together.

calypso_cane

38. I’m Only Human After All

I worked in Data Support (as fun as it sounds) for a company that was situated in the business district of my city. In that job it was extremely important to leave the building on your lunch, not doing so meant others assumed you were having a working lunch. On lunch, I would go into the shopping areas of the city and just look around, grab something to eat and ensure I was back in work at exactly the time I needed to be and no earlier.

This day I decided to go into Primark, which is a clothing store in the UK. I was casually browsing the shirts and completely in a world of my own. I must have been looking around the same area for a few minutes when I felt a presence to the right of me. Now, this isn't unusual, busy store, middle of lunch time and a fairly tight space between the clothes rails.

I get fed up of looking at the shirts, and turn to walk away, only to get the scare of a lifetime. This man yells "OH JESUS CHRIST!" right next to me. I turn to see the man with a look of sheer terror in his eyes, staring at me for a moment in disbelief. This confused me, a lot. I was about to ask if everything was okay and this guy’s terror turns to a relieved laugh.

Covering his face and turning quite red at the scene he'd just made in a busy store, he said: "I thought you were a mannequin."

glewis93

39. Familiarity Breeds Contempt

My family moved to the south after I graduated high school, so my brother had two years left and they do block scheduling for classes. All that means is some days he'd get out of school earlier than when we normally had at our old HS. I go to pick him up from school—it’s a three hour bus ride or 15 minute drive if I pick him up—one day about 1 pm, and I'm waiting out in my car in the pickup area kinda near the doors.

Here comes the truancy officer. He says: “Excuse me, miss, but school isn't out yet, you should be in class.” I reply, “I graduated high school already. I'm here picking up my younger brother, he gets out around 1:15-1:30 pm...” He says: “I've seen you here before, you need to be in class. What's your name?” I show him my out of state ID.

He goes, “I know that last name, you DO go here! Come inside to the office.” I say, “Well obviously my brother and I would have the same last name, we're siblings...” I go in because 1) I don't want to keep having this issue every time I pick him up, 2) I do need to collect my brother, as we both have to go to work. We make our way to the office, where the truancy officer tells them to look up my name.

The office lady says: “We don't have a student by that name, we do have another student with same last name.” The officer replies, “That's her then, she just gave me the wrong name on purpose.” The office lady tells him, “The other student is male, sir. She doesn't go here.” I chime in: “That would be my brother, could you page him for me?”

The truancy officer argues, “No, I've seen her here before, she goes to school here.” The office lady says: “Sir, she doesn't go here; we have no record of any student with her name. Leave her be.” My brother arrives to the office, looking confused. He says: “Hey sis, you ready to go?” The truancy officer still doesn’t get it. He says: “See? She does go here! Why would she know students if she doesn't?”

My brother replies: “My sister is here to pick me up from school, she isn't in the system because She. Is. Not. A. Student.” Truancy officer: “But I see her every day outsi-“ My brother turns to the office lady and asks if we are okay to dip out; she says yes, so we skedaddle. As we're leaving we can hear the office lady trying to explain to the truancy officer that all current students are in the system and that if he brings in one more random person that he "sees outside everyday" claiming they're a student, she's gonna file a complaint on him.

My brother tells me, “I've only been going here for a month and I already know that guy is a moron.”

GasStationrRaptor83

40. The Ice Breaker

My fiancé and I met at university, many many miles away from his home city. We were in some of the same classes, and romance blossomed. We’d been a couple for a few months when he said that his parents were coming to see him and wanted to meet me as well. The plan was for us to all go out for dinner together the evening they arrived, however my boyfriend had an unmissable meeting scheduled just before we were meant to be leaving.

We decided that I’d go ahead and meet them alone (and be interrogated…) and my boyfriend would try to hurry up the meeting and go straight to the restaurant from there. I caught the bus into town, however it was just my luck that it broke down halfway through the journey, meaning that I was about 15 minutes behind schedule.

I caught my boyfriend just before his meeting to tell him, and he passed on the message to his parents, who replied almost instantly saying that they were already in the restaurant, and gave the location of their table so I could just join them when I got there. This restaurant was fancy-ish—you’d definitely wear smart-casual clothing to dine there, and staff were all in similar dress of white shirt/blouse, pressed trousers and smart shoes.

I was wearing the smartest dress I had that which was a dark red, definitely not uniform. I get there 10ish-minutes late and a little bit sweaty and out of breath, and spotted my boyfriend’s parents (I’d seen pictures of them so I knew what they looked like) sitting on a table. I put on a “don’t let them know you’re nervous” smile and walked over there.

I say, “Hi there, sorry I’m late, it’s lovely to meet you.” My mother-in-law goes: “Oh, someone’s already taken our drinks order, we’ll be ready to order food when the rest of our party gets here.” I reply, “I’m not your waitress, I’m [my name], [fiancé’s name]’s girlfriend. Sorry for being late.” My poor future mother-in-law turned the colour of my red dress.

She apologized for a good two minutes while my future father in law had a fit of the giggles.

jamaicanmescream

41. Blinded By The White

So me and my girlfriend were hanging out in this store that had a bit of everything, when she decides to look for some covers for her phone, I stayed in a corridor nearby looking at the tech stuff when suddenly, a lady comes up to me. I was wearing jeans and a red polo, I guess she mistook me for an employee even if they had a blue uniform.

Lady: “Hey you, can you tell me where I can get [item]?” I look around for a second before looking back at her and saying, “I don't know, I don't w-” She interrupted me before I could say the magic word "I don't work here." I couldn’t believe what came out of her mouth. She told me: “You brown people are all the same don't know how to treat customers, disgusting!”

I'm about to go to my girlfriend and tell her the story about this crazy lady, but before I could reach her, this lady comes back. I kid you not, she starts spraying those house deodorant sprays in my face, blinding me. Lady: “Serves you right for being lazy and [insert super inappropriate slur].” Me: “HELP!” My girlfriend heard me yelling and came.

Before I could say anything, I could hear my girlfriend calling the authorities. I guess staff didn't let her leave, because when I could see again after washing my eyes, she was crying and getting detained. Officers asked If I'd like to press charges. I said yes. Even if I was an employee there, that’s no way to treat people.

permalink

42. Ma’am This Is (Not) A Wendy’s

I’m at Walmart and a lady asks for help with a heavy item. I talked to her for a while then continued to do my shopping. I went through checkout and the lady was talking to the manager by the registers. She pointed at me and the manager smiled. I walked up to them as the manager explained that I actually work at Wendy’s.

The lady was slightly embarrassed but we walked out together. I loaded the stuff into the back seat and talked to her husband that was waiting for her. She kept saying “you know” just like my great-grandmother. The next day, my manager asked if I was the one that helped the lady at Walmart. So, I do a little nice thing and this lady goes out of her way to tell my manager about it—and I remember it for the rest of my life!

ABearSniffedMyHead

43. Eyewitness Account

This story is kinda different. So, I did work there, but I saw it happen to someone who didn’t. I was working in lawn and garden section, I see this autistic young man. I guessed he was autistic, as he seemed predominantly focused on his action and kinda had the actions of an autistic individual. This young man is sorting and moving potted flowers around putting them in a very specific order, matching colors, size of pots, and height of the flowers themselves—doing an amazing job at it too I may add.

He is bothering no one and most folks are just noticing him doing a bang-up job, But this one old crone of a woman sees him "working." She stands behind this young man arms folded and tapping her foot. At first, I was thinking maybe it was her son or someone she was shopping with, but the next thing she did told me that assumption was wrong.

She clears her throat in that dreaded fashion we all know, "Ahem...excuuuuuuuse me, you need to help me." The young man pays her no mind, continuing with his task. She doesn't like this, so she clears her voice and replies louder,” YOU ARE NOT LISTENING TO ME, YOU ARE GOING TO HELP ME NOW!!!” Before I can walk to her and ask her what she needs, she reaches out and grabs this young man by the right arm just above his elbow.

I guess the sudden action of this and the young man's condition caused him to spin around and jerk his arm away from this lady. The sudden movement startled the old woman causing her to step backward and lose her balance, causing her to sit down on her behind. It was like in slow motion watching her go from standing to sitting on the ground.

By the time I reached the young man to see if he was okay, his mother had shown up and was asking what had happened, before I could say anything the woman who had caused this was up and berating this young man. Saying he attacked her and she will have him fired and detained by the authorities, meanwhile this young man was almost crying and his mother was shocked.

I told the mom to take her son and calm him down, that he has done nothing wrong and just to make sure he is okay. The crazy old women didn't like that I took his side, she began to lie and tell me she was the victim and she didn't do anything, that the employee (young man) attacked her. Well, I wasn’t about to let her do any more damage than she already had.

I told her not so kindly that a. she was a liar and I had witnessed the whole incident and b. the young man she had forcibly grabbed does not work here and that she had attacked him. By then, a crowd had gathered, and the crazy woman had noticed that no one is believing her side of the story. She just puts her head down and walks quickly out the store.

When I turn to check on the young man and his mother, she was smiling at me and was thanking me for my help. She shops there regularly and the young man liked to arrange the flowers, it's calming to him. I express my regrets about the whole incident, and the young man walked over to me and patted my shoulder once and went back to the flowers.

The mom informed me that was basically the equivalent of a high five from him!

Rudedoggg

44. New Year, Old Job

Last holiday season I worked seasonally for Target. It was a disaster from the start. The managers had absolutely no organization whatsoever. I should have known when they scheduled me for my second interview and the manager didn’t even show up I was screwed. Towards the end of the holiday season after Christmas and before New Years, they offered me a non-seasonal part-time position.

I was going to accept but they wanted me to work a TON for part-time and being a college student, they were not willing to be flexible at all. So I said, “Nope, I am done after my last day on January 6.” Everything was good after I was done with that trainwreck and I was starting off my second semester. I had basically forgotten about my disastrous time there—until the phone rang.

It was January 20 at 5:00 PM, two weeks exactly since the last time I’d been there. The manager says: “Hey this is so-and-so, are you running a little late? You were supposed to work at 4:30.” I reply: “Ummm no. I quit over three weeks ago” The manager says: “Uhhh, well we are really short-staffed. Can you come in anyway?”

I tell him: “No. I do not work there anymore, I told you that, and I’m at school.” They won’t give up. He says: “Are you sure you can’t come in anyway?” Thank goodness I’m done with that disaster!

allysundaylee

45. Thanks For The Shirt

My boss went to an outlet mall for Black Friday shopping, and told me this one today. Some random woman asks her: “Excuse me, do you have more of these?” My boss ignores her, continuing to look through the rack. The lady literally throws this sweater across the rack and into my boss’s face, yelling: “I asked you a question and you can answer me right now!” My boss’s reply was legendary.

She says “Thanks!” and decides to buy this sweater just to irritate this lady, and leave the store. After checking out, the crazy lady is screaming over the crowd, “Stop! Where the heck are you think you’re going with MY sweater!” She runs after my boss and grabs her bag, screaming like a madwoman. She’s slapping at my boss, calling her all sorts of things—and insisting she gets fired!

My boss just kept saying, “I don’t work here!” “GET AWAY!” etc. Security shows up to pull the lady away, and she SCRATCHED at their faces!! She gets restrained, falls to the floor and tries to fake a seizure saying, “You’re making me have a seizure,” ‘cause that’s how seizures work. She also yells, “Call 9-1-1!” Well, officers show up, and the madwoman is loaded into the back of the car, AND SHE SPITS ON THE WINDOW! My boss made her statement, and wore the sweater to work today. It’s her new favorite.

Bangbangsmashsmash

46. Jamie Lee Curtis, Eat Your Heart Out

One day, I was shopping at the local Walmart and had my headphones in. These headphones are incredibly nice and a gift from my parents. I had just gotten off work and was in business casual, khakis and a plain grey polo. No logo. Nothing to indicate that I worked at Walmart. I was looking in the freezer section for some ice cream for dessert that night when someone yanks my headphones off my head and they fall on the ground.

Cue Karen starting to yell at me. "I have been trying to get your attention for five minutes! You shouldn't be listening to music while you work! How can you help customers if you can't even hear them!?" She screeched at me. Now I am seeing red. If she damaged my headphones there was going to be a big problem. I lean down to pick up my headphones.

Then, I say to this crazy lady, "Don't you ever touch me you crazy witch. I don't work here you stupid idiot. Touch me again and I will scream so loud the whole store will hear." "Don't you talk to me like that! I am a customer!" She said as she grabbed my bicep to haul me to a manager like a child to be punished. So I let her have it.

I screamed the loudest scream I could possibly imagine. I actually lost my voice for the next day because of it. It startled her so bad that she let me go and dropped her purse. Not even 20 seconds later a manager comes running with the security guy. The manager demanded to be told what was going on. I told him this crazy witch attacked me.

She tore my headphones off my head and grabbed me. I feared for my life (a complete embellishment) so I screamed. By now we have an audience, and the manager takes us both and separates us. Luckily for me, a very nice woman was a little farther down the aisle and saw the whole thing and told the security guy what happened and backed up my story.

She got what was coming—and so did I. The manager asked if I wanted to press charges and I told him no. I just want my ice cream and to go home. He told me to take it. It was on him. As I was leaving I saw the crazy witch getting thrown out of Walmart by the security guy and being told to never set foot in the store again.

SeratoninSerenade

47. Some Assembly Required

This happened several years ago. I was the nighttime charge nurse over the ICU. I’d just finished a 12-hour shift at my hospital that had turned into a 14-hour shift. I was exhausted and had to return for a fourth shift in nine hours. All I wanted were some items to drop in the slow cooker so I’d have something to eat when I got up later that night.

I stopped at a well-known big box store that sells groceries, clothes, electronics.. the works. I’m wearing royal blue scrubs, a name badge with a big RN under it and forgot to take my stethoscope off so it’s hanging around my neck. The employees here...well...don’t wear that. As I’m walking towards the store I see an elderly couple struggling to load a large box in their SUV parked at the front of the store.

And I mean old. 90+ Shaky hands. Teetering around with limited mobility. No way would his hips take the weight without snapping...and I’ve worked enough tonight. I approach quickly and address the female half of the couple offering help. It was gladly accepted and I got their TV loaded with very little difficulty. It was more cumbersome than heavy.

I’m chatting with the woman who is explaining it’s a gift for their son and her husband hadn’t wanted to wait for help. I’d wondered why an employee wasn’t helping. That’s when it happened. This woman yells, “Hey! Hey!” at me. Startled, me and the nice lady stop our conversation and look over. It’s a lady in her 50s dressed in a cheap-looking beige pantsuit with a “get your manager” hairstyle standing about 15 feet away with a hand on her overly broad hip.

She says, “IF you are ABOUT done. I need help over here.” She then points to her cart with two boxes of bookshelves…some assembly required. I realize she thinks I work here. I start to say, “Oh sorry. I don’t work...” and she cuts me off, yelling: “You are already making me late! Just get it done! ...and DON’T scratch my paint up.”

The elderly lady and I exchange looks of disbelief and I try again. “I don’t work he—” but once again, she cuts me off and says, “Just get it done!” She then steps away from her cart to grab her purse grumbling about “stupid idiots” and is digging for her keys when disaster strikes. The cart rolls further away and one wheel goes off the curb.

The entire uneven load causes the cart to topple over. I instinctively jump forward to try to prevent everything from falling...I was unsuccessful. This awful woman, who has now turned to see her particle board bookshelves spilled out on the cement. Corners of the boxes crushed and one has torn open with a few pieces and packaging now exposed.

The awful woman completely loses her mind and begins raging. She’s swearing at me and yelling: “You moron! Pick them up! ARGH. I’m going to have you fired! You owe me new bookshelves! And I’m late!” At this point, I’m done. I yell: “Pick them up yourself! I DON’T WORK HERE!” I then turn to go inside when I feel her grab my sleeve and try to yank me around.

I jerk my sleeve out of out of grip and turn to face her now violently red face. She opens her mouth to start screaming again but I put my finger in her face and say: “No! Don’t touch me! Shut your mouth! I do not work here, and even if I did. I’d quit before I help you clean up your pile of garbage!” She stands there speechless.

Like a bottom-feeding fish, her mouth opening and closing. She is absolutely sputtering in shock that I’ve dared raise MY voice at HER. That’s when the manager and an employee come out. As this awful woman sees the manager and finds her voice. I couldn’t believe what she did next. She says: “Are you the manager? This man damaged my bookshelves and is refusing to pay for them.”

I just stare in shock. Seriously?! She’s finally realized that a man in bright blue scrubs with a stethoscope and a big RN badge really doesn’t work here. But instead of apologizing, she chooses to double down on the craziness and now accuses me of breaking her stuff. Before I can voice my denial, the elderly gentleman I’d helped earlier steps in and explains the situation to the manager.

The awful woman is still voicing complaints but the manager realizes the real situation and apologizes to me and the couple. I’m still standing by watching angrily as the manager deals with the woman and inspects the bookshelves. They are not damaged. He offers her two new boxes but she is now done with the whole situation. She says no.

She’s already too late because of me. Just glares over at me and says to the manager, “Just load them. I’m already late enough because of this!” The manager and employee then lift the boxes up and get them wedged into the woman’s car. As I shake my head and go to enter the store I’m stopped by the elderly lady I’d helped earlier.

She says: “Sir. Thank you so much for helping us with the TV. I’m so sorry some people are so rude.” She then reaches for my hand to shake. As she folds both her fragile hands around mine, I can feel something in her palm she’s giving me. She whispers: “Don’t look yet. Wait till she leaves.” I slide the package into my scrub pocket and the nice lady walks away.

The terrible woman then gets in her car and, without apologizing or thanking anyone, peels out and drives away. I finally enter the store to grab my food items. When I reached into my pocket and pulled out what she’d given me, I was utterly astonished. It was a plastic bag with a bunch of screws and hardware. I realize immediately that the sweet little old lady took advantage of the commotion to take the hardware out of the terrible woman’s ripped box.

I couldn’t believe it. I had the biggest grin on my face as I did my shopping. And I have a new petty revenge hero to idolize.

BookwyrmsRN

48. Every Office Needs An Otis

A while back I was working in an office that allowed dogs. It was an open floor plan and since customers never came into the office, we kept the dog food and water bowls right by the front door, just because it was the most convenient space and no one else would see them but us who worked there. Of the six of us who worked in the main office area, I was the only one who didn’t have a dog and I always felt horribly left out.

To make matters worse, across the way was a doggie daycare. One day, a very frantic woman came in and she had an absolutely massive Basset Hound with her. Usually, the only people who came into the office were associates who had appointments with someone working there, but it was rare they brought their dogs. She ran up to me and said, “Do you work here?”

I said, “Yes, how can I help you?” And she said, “I wasn’t sure if you took walk ins but I read online I could just drop him off? I tried to call but no answer.” I didn’t know what she was talking about at that point and I said, “Come again? Who did you call exactly?” Thinking if I could just saddle her off to whoever she came to see, I wouldn’t have to decipher her problem.

She said, “Well it doesn’t matter now. Look, something urgent has come up and I really need to leave him here. Here’s his food he likes and I’ll be back in a few hours and—" At this point I wasn’t thinking of the doggie daycare. I thought maybe she was a friend of someone here. I said, “Well alright, can I get your name please?” And she said her name and then asked if I needed her to sign anything.

I was so confused at this point I just said, “Why would I need you to sign something?” And she left almost immediately. So I took Otis (the dog) to the back and showed him to my coworkers and no one knew the woman or dog. I was worried she wouldn’t come back, but at the same time, my wish for an office dog had been granted! And Otis was supremely chill.

All he did all day was lie around and drool onto his own ears. I just freshened him up every now and then, took him out every couple hours, and he was happy as a clam on a big cushy dog bed we thankfully had an extra of. He just loved attention from anywhere he could get it. At the end of the day the woman, thank God, came back. She said, “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver. How was he?”

I said, “He was a champ.” And was about to say “But why is he here” when she said, “That’s a relief. Most kennels say he gets anxious around other dogs. I heard you operated at a much higher capacity, I was thrilled to see you had so few clients in the room at one time. So, how much do I owe?” It honestly took me this long to realize what had happened.

She thought we were the dog daycare. Now, I probably should’ve corrected her. But I loved my day with the office dog and I did want to get paid for supervising this strange dog all day. I just threw out the number that sounded fair and appropriate “That’ll be $20.” I said. She replied “Reaalllly?!” In this very high tone, and I couldn’t tell if I’d overshot or undershot.

But she paid me and left. My coworkers were laughing hysterically when they realized what had happened and we thought it would just be a good story for the future. Wrong. The next week...she came back! She said we were so much more affordable and less overcrowded than her other place, and that she was happy to use us. I was glad for the company so just took him.

I didn’t think there was any way she couldn’t have at least some idea we weren’t a dog daycare. The whole ordeal was so strange I just figured, “don’t question a good thing.” I was much younger and dumber then. Not long after, Otis started getting dropped off two, sometimes even three or four days a week. I was in heaven. He was such a love. And he made fast friends with the delivery guys and visitors.

One day, we took our office Christmas card photo and Otis was over that day, so we included him. In a Santa hat. It was pretty great. But it turns out Otis’ owner was friends with one of our clients who I guess happened to have the card out on her table or was kind enough to display it alongside her other holiday cards. Because one day, Otis’ owner came in holding the card and walked up to me and said, “I can’t even believe I’m asking this but... is that my dog in this photo? This isn’t a dog daycare at all. This is just an office, isn’t it.” I froze in my tracks.

She said it with a note of surprise, as though she was looking around and putting it all together for the first time. No coincidence that this was the first time she wasn’t in some crazy rush either. She was like, “Then who are all these other dogs?!” And I explained. I was terrified she was going to demand her money back, or worse, take some sort of action against us for misrepresenting ourselves as a dog care business, or complain to corporate.

Instead, she basically said, “Why didn’t you ever say anything!” And I explained we just really liked having Otis around. She stopped for a minute and seemed to be thinking and said, “Is that right?” And I said yes and told the story of how I was the only one in the office without a dog so loved the company. She seemed a little flummoxed or hesitant, understandably, because the whole thing was so weird.

She turned to my coworker and asked if I was telling the whole truth. I don’t know why she thought my coworker, also a stranger to her, was any more trustworthy than me, but hey. Strange times. Coworker backed me up. So she said, “Well, I wish you’d said something sooner. Could’ve saved me a lot of embarrassment with my friend back there. Alright, I have to get going. See you at 4:00.” And she left Otis!

I couldn’t believe it! I said, “So he can stay?!” And she replied, “Where else could I find someone to watch him one on one all day for $20?” And off she went. Otis stayed my office dog until his family moved away, luckily right around the same time I took a new job.

SwarmTendon

49. Missed The Target

I worked at Target and there was a Hobby Lobby across the street. I ran over to Hobby Lobby after a shift to grab something and I was still wearing my red shirt with the Target symbols all over it. A 20-something girl comes up to me and says "Do you know where I can find a glue stick?" I paused and just kind of looked at my shirt and I said, "...you mean at this store? Or...like...at Target?"

Her reaction was unforgettable. She just stared at my name tag for a long time, sighed a heavy sigh, and quietly said: "Sorry, I don't know where I am."

ibridgham

50. She’s Got The Look

I have experiences like this constantly. I think it might be due to having spent 17 years in the service industry. I just have that look. So, this time, my buddy was taking me out to a fancy French restaurant as a treat and I was pretty gussied up. I really enjoy getting dolled up and wearing a beautiful dress to enjoy a wonderful meal.

However, the city I live in (Portland, Oregon) has a reputation for diners dressing down, even in fine dining restaurants. I only mention this because the staff tends to be better dressed than the clientele. I was wearing all black with my hair in an elaborate up-do and chandelier earrings. I think the all black is what started everything.

This particular restaurant has a well-known (and frankly down-right foxy) chef who typically works at a station showing off and plating where everybody can see him. It’s also near the door to the only washroom and the server station. It’s a huge restaurant and with only the one washroom, there was a bit of a line. I waited and waited and at one point I think the chef and I exchanged a few pleasantries.

When I was next in line, a middle-aged man in a Portland-issue plaid button up and jeans got in line behind me. He had cranky energy and was shifting from foot-to-foot. It didn’t seem like he had to go badly, just that he was impatient. I had been waiting much, much longer than him and found his constant sighing and scoffing irritating. Well, it was downright pleasant compared to what happened next.

When it was my turn I reached for the door only to have this awful man push in front of me and nearly knock me over shoving himself into the open door. I was so taken aback I just sort of froze and said, “Excuse me, I was next.” Which is when he wheeled around started YELLING about how he wasn’t about to wait while, “some waitress changed her tampon.”

Then he yelled at the chef that he should have a staff bathroom, because it’s “disgusting” that the staff use the same bathroom as guests and implied he might not pay for his meal because of it. I stood there in absolute shock (and a full bladder) while this man took care of his business. Clearly taking his sweet time out of spite. Maybe. Something about his personality made me think he hadn’t taken a normal poop in years.

The chef apologized to me and a waiter who had been at the server station commiserated. I decided screw it. I DON’T work here, but even if I did there is no reason to be treated like I’m not a human. Seriously, dude. You’re wearing muddy Teva sandals and suddenly acting like we’re in Downton Abbey. When he came out I used my entire body to block his path out of the bathroom and gave him a stern, but quiet lecture.

I told him how a) I actually wasn’t an employee and b) there is nothing wrong with sharing the bathroom with the staff and told him that he had ruined what should have been a special night out. Again, this all happened in full view of the entire kitchen staff and several members of the wait staff. I hadn’t realized it at time, but this jerk was actually seated directly next to my friend on the banquet.

His female dining companion had been sitting next to me. I had been gone easily 20 minutes and my friend was confused and annoyed. I figured at that point I had nothing to lose, so I loudly explained what happened while gesturing to the awful man and making pointed eye contact with the woman. The man looked furious and the woman just silently glared at him. But that wasn’t the best part.

After a few minutes, the waiter wordlessly dropped their check. They were mid-meal and hadn’t been offered dessert. It was clearly a very pointed, but polite, “screw you, get out” from the staff after his rant. They paid without incident and as they got up to leave he tried to put his hand on her shoulder only to have her jerk away and say, “don’t touch me.”

My friend and I got a cheese plate and glasses of sparkling rose as a gift from the restaurant. Cheers!

pdxcranberry