Not Always Right on Facebook Not Always Right on Twitter Not Always Right Unfiltered on Tumblr
Featured Story:
  • Using The Lord’s Name Doesn’t Deliver
    (1,591 thumbs up)
  • July Theme Of The Month: Animal Madness!
    Submit your story today!

    Category: Bad Behavior

    Grabbed The Wrong Baker’s Buns

    | USA | Bad Behavior, Love/Romance

    (I am visiting with two of my best friends at their little bakery. They are married, and have been best friends since the day I introduced them. The wife and I are doing some shopping for ingredients while business is slow. As we return to the bakery, a man stops and holds the door open for us. I go in first and the wife follows after me; we both thank him.)

    Wife: *suddenly yelps*

    Me: “What? What happened?”

    Wife: “He slapped my a**!”

    Man: “Don’t you know a true gentleman opens the door for a lady, and then slaps her a**? It’s a compliment, you stupid b****!”

    Wife: “Excuse me?!”

    (The wife is about five seconds from kicking the living crap out of this guy, when her husband walks over and calmly steps in front of her. He himself is wearing a suit and tie still, because he has not changed into his work clothes yet.)

    Husband: “Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

    Man: “Why?! I didn’t do anything!”

    Husband: “A true gentleman opens the door for a lady, which is true. However, a true gentleman NEVER touches a lady without her consent. Ever.”

    Man: “Man, why the h*** do you care so much?!”

    (The husband simply smiles and then looms in close to the man’s face. The man is nearly 5’7″ while my friend is 6’2″. The man’s face goes sheet white.)

    Husband: “For your information, that little lady is my wife. I own this bakery, and unless you would like me to show you how long it will take me to beat you to bloody pulp, I suggest you leave.”

    (The man scurries off and is later charged for assault. As for my two friends, let’s just say the husband got an extra treat that night.)

    Sins Of The Father, Part 3

    | OR, USA | Bad Behavior, Family & Kids, Wild & Unruly

    (I am the customer in this scenario. I have decided to have lunch at a local muffin/sandwich shop. I finish my order, and a couple comes in behind me with two children. The mother leaves to go to another store, and the children begin to run the length of the store without any input from their father. I finally get my food tray, and am stepping away from the counter, when the older of the two, the son runs into me from behind, full tilt. Barely keeping my balance, I cry out.)

    Me: “Hey! Watch where you’re going, buddy!”

    Father: “Don’t you f****** talk to my kid like that!”

    Son: “Yeah!”

    (The son aims a punch at my more tender areas. I thankfully turn to the side quickly enough to avoid the hit in the crotch, but the son ends up smacking the hard back of the cell phone in my pocket. He falls to the floor, holding his hand and wailing.)

    Father: “You son of a b****! You hit my son!”

    Me: “No… he just—”

    Father: “Someone call the police! That man hit my son!”

    Me: “Look—”

    Father: “I saw you! You hit my son! I’m gonna—” *starts advancing on me with fists clenched*

    (The owner suddenly comes over.)

    Owner: “[Father's Name], that’s it! I’ve had it! I’ve told you not to let your kids run around here, and now you’re threatening my customers. I don’t care if you’re related to me; I want you and your kids out of my store, now!”

    Father: “But he—”

    Owner: “Remember, [Father's Name], you installed the video cameras for me last week. I watched your son run into and try to hit this guy. GET OUT!”

    (I didn’t lose my meal, but I was able to eat it in relative peace after the father and the owner finished a protracted screaming match with the father losing and leaving.)

    Related:
    Sins Of The Father, Part 2
    Sins Of The Father

    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 12

    | Natchitoches, LA, USA | Bad Behavior

    (I’m browsing the yarn section of a well-known big box retailer. There is another customer, a middle-aged man, slowly making his way down the aisle.)

    Customer: *stands next to me and clears his throat*

    Me: *takes two steps to the right* “Sorry I’m in the way, hon. I don’t know what colors I want.”

    Customer: “Hmph! Well, that’s not my problem, is it? Where are the iron-on patches?”

    Me: *gestures* “On the other aisle over there with the sewing notions.”

    Customer: “Hmph! I meant for you to show me exactly where to find them!”

    (At this point, I remember I’m wearing the jacket for my job, which is the same color as the shirts and jackets this store’s employees wear.)

    Me: “Oh!” *I point at my store’s logo on the front of my jacket* “I don’t work here! I work at [Convenience Store] in Robeline. I only know where they are because I sew. I don’t use those, though, as I’d rather sew a patch. There are sew-on patches over there, too.”

    Customer: “Don’t lie to me and don’t try to change the subject! Your jacket is the same color as the other employees’ jackets!”

    Me: “Honey, I work for [Convenience Store], not [Retailer].” *I point at the logo again* “See? Completely different logo.”

    Customer: “Don’t you ‘honey’ me, you brat! If you were my kid I’d tan your hide! The trouble with you kids these days is that you don’t respect your elders!”

    Me: “First off, I am NOT a child! I am twenty-four years old, which means I am a grown woman. Second, I have already told you that I don’t work here and showed you proof of the fact. Third, the d***ed patches you’re looking for are one aisle over, next to the other sewing notions, and they’re right in plain sight! If you can’t find them, that’s your problem, not mine!”

    (The customer storms off muttering about disrespectful employees. When I go to check-out later, I find myself at the end of the line in the same lane as him and notice that he has the iron-on patches.)

    Me: *loudly* “Glad to have been of service, sir!”

    Customer: *to his cashier* “I’d like to know who to speak to so that I can report her! She was very rude to me earlier!”

    Cashier: *chuckles* “Sir, she doesn’t work here. She works at [Convenience Store]. I see her there all the time when I’m passing through.”

    Customer: “You’re just covering for her! I’m going to take this to corporate!”

    Cashier: “You have a good day, sir!”

    Customer: *storms off with his bags*

    Related:
    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 11
    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 10
    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 9
    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 8
    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 7
    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 6
    I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 5

    Not So Smart-Phone Number

    | TX, USA | At The Checkout, Bad Behavior, Pets & Animals

    (Our store sells rats and mice for feeders. All customers who purchase them have to fill out a short sheet with their name, address, and phone number for our records. Our store reward cards can be found by entering a phone number.)

    Me: “Alright, two male mice and [other item]. If you could please fill this out while I ring you up that would be great.”

    (The customer stares blankly at the piece of paper.)

    Me: *pushes paper closer* “We’ll just need this filled out for the mice for our files.”

    Customer: “What is this?”

    Me: “It’s a form that has to be filled out for all animals we sell; it is company policy.”

    (The customer starts to get huffy.)

    Customer: “I have lived in this area for nine years, and have never had to fill one of these out before!”

    (She starts to fill it out, grumpily, sighing every few seconds, and complains the entire time, saying the policy is stupid and she doesn’t understand. When she reaches the portion where it asks for a phone number should we need to call the customer about the animal, she explodes.)

    Customer: “There is NO F****** WAY I am giving you guys my phone number. This is freaking ridiculous; let me talk to a manager. I have lived here NINE YEARS and have never had to fill this out. This is a retarded policy, and I am not giving you guys my phone number to have on file!”

    (I call a manager up and keep trying to diffuse the situation.)

    Me: “That’s fine, ma’am. You can rightly refuse for the phone number. While we wait for my manager, do you have a rewards card?”

    (The customer looks up at me and prattles off her phone number. I resist face-palming at her.)

    Related:
    Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 10
    Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 9
    Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 8
    Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 7
    Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 6
    Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 5
    Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 4

    The Grandmother Of All Threats

    | CO, USA | Bad Behavior, Health & Body, Top, Wild & Unruly

    (I work in my stepdad’s medical office. I am about 10 minutes late due to a car accident delaying traffic. There is an older patient waiting outside the office.)

    Patient: *testily* “Why are you late?”

    Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am. There was an accident on my way in delaying traffic. Let me unlock the door, and I’ll help you.”

    Patient: “Well, I was going to leave, but I’ll see Dr. [Name] now.”

    Me: “Once again, I’m very sorry, ma’am. He’s not in his office today. He’s doing school testing.”

    Patient: “This is unacceptable. Your sign says you’re open from 10-4 on Thursdays!”

    Me: “Ma’am, do you have an appointment?”

    Patient: “No, you stupid girl! I don’t need an appointment!”

    Me: “Well, our sign also says we don’t take walk-ins. So yes, you do need one.”

    Patient: “This is outrageous! Why can’t I see the doctor?”

    Me: “I just told you that, ma’am. Now I can schedule an appointment for you, or—”

    Patient: “You call the doctor and get him back here right now! If you don’t, I’ll have my grandson come by and beat you up!”

    Me: “Ma’am, I think you need to leave.”

    Patient: “Why? I’m paying you!”

    Me: “Because you just threatened to have me assaulted. If you do not leave immediately, I will call hospital security and have you escorted out.”

    (She doesn’t leave. She calls her grandson, who apparently turns down her offer for him to come and hurt me, and I call security. The following Monday, a young man about my age walks into the office. He is holding a bouquet of flowers.)

    Young Man: “Hi, are you the lady my grandmother asked me to beat up?”

    Me: “Yes, I think that would be me.”

    Young Man: *hands me the flowers* “I am so sorry. She does this every time she doesn’t get her way. I just wanted to thank you for being one of the few to not cave to her demands.”


    Page 40/99First...3839404142...Last