Not Always Right on Facebook Not Always Right on Twitter Not Always Right Unfiltered on Tumblr
Featured Story:
  • Crime Can Be A Vicious Cycle
    (1,799 thumbs up)
  • October Theme Of The Month: Coupon Complications!
    Submit your story today!

    Category: Transportation

    It’s A Grey(hound) Area

    , | Calgary, AB, Canada | Pets & Animals, Theme Of The Month, Transportation

    (I was working in the call centre for a well-known bus company named after a type of dog. An ad was running at the time for a companion fare (buy one, get one) and it featured images of the type of dog the company is named after. One afternoon I get a call in regards to the pricing and rules for the fare. After giving this info the caller has one last question:)

    Caller: “So, to use this companion fare, does my companion HAVE to be a dog?”

    They Have It Made

    | ON, Canada | Geography, Health & Body, Transportation

    (I work night shift at a very popular Canadian coffee chain. Four drunk customers walk into the store, barely able to stand. I spot a white limo outside and these customers are dressed like they’ve been out clubbing.)

    Me: “Hey, there. What can I get you ladies?”

    Drunk Customer: “Hey, um, I have a question?”

    Me: “Yes?”

    Drunk Customer: “Um, what city are we in?”

    Me: *stammering* “P-pardon me?”

    Drunk Customer: “Oh, my God. Are you deaf? What CITY are we in?”

    Me: “Erm… you’re in between [City #1] and [City #2].”

    Drunk Customer: *turns back to her friends* “OH, MY GOD, GUYS! WE MADE IT!”

    (It turned out that the ladies had been gambling in Niagara Falls, about three hours away. After asking for the address of the place and reassuring me that they lived in City #1 and they were headed home (they thought), they left without asking for anything and I was left to wonder exactly how intoxicated one had to be to be that lost and that un-phased by it.)

    Crime Can Be A Vicious Cycle

    | London, England, UK | At The Checkout, Criminal/Illegal, Extra Stupid, Transportation

    (A couple of weeks ago the bicycle that I had owned since I was eight years old was stolen, right outside my shop. I was at work at the time and the CCTV we have can’t pin the culprit as he was in a blind spot. The police have been as unsuccessful as well. As my only method of transport, I have to go by foot which takes 40 minutes. I’m behind the counter one day, when…)

    Customer: “Excuse me, can I park my bicycle in here? Some guy got his stolen the other week so I don’t want to take any chances.”

    Me: “Sure, just park it up by the counter and I’ll—”

    (Before I can finish, the customer brings the cycle — MY CYCLE — in and rests it against the counter.)

    Me: “—k-keep an eye on it for you.”

    (The second the customer turns around the corner, I’m on the phone to my manager to ring the police. When he comes out of the office he notices the cycle and is just as baffled as me.)

    Manager: “What’s going on here?”

    Me: “A gentlemen just came in with this. He’s gone into the produce aisle but I’m certain that he’s the thief.”

    Manager: “Right. You stay here. I’ll speak to him.”

    (Without another word, my now-furious manager had rounded the corner and gone to have a word with the gentlemen in question. Not a second later I could hear swearing at the top of the gentlemen’s lungs as he came running down the same aisle and reached for my bike. My instinct kicked in and I held on to the back wheel as much as I could as he shouted for me to ‘f*****g let go’. He gave up sooner than anticipated as my manager charged at him, so he sprinted for the door. However, the police were waiting outside for him, and in a flurry of swearwords the crook was brought to the ground and arrested there and then. How did I know it was my bicycle? The dingus had forgotten to remove my water bottle which was attached to the frame and had my name on it! I guess crime doesn’t pay!)

    When You Know It’s Time To Re-Tire

    | Boston, MA, USA | Crazy Requests, Extra Stupid, Transportation

    (My car has suddenly died with no warning, and I manage to get it pulled to the side of the road before I lose momentum. I call AAA to request a tow, and, since it’s absolutely pouring and I’m on a street running through a park (no houses or shops), I sit in my car while I wait – for over an hour and a half. When the driver shows up, it’s the same guy who always comes to haul my car away when it misbehaves (now four times in three years), so we joke with each other a bit.)

    Driver: “Man, if I’d known it was you sitting here waiting I would’ve told the last lady she could suck it!”

    Me: *surprised* “Why? What was wrong with her car?”

    Driver: “She called it in as multiple flat tires, and when I got there, you know what it was?”

    Me: “No…?”

    Driver: “They were just really bald and she was afraid to drive it in this rain! She had me tow her home!”

    Me: “Let me guess. Luxury car.”

    Driver: “Got it in one.”

    (So, lady who wasted that guy’s time and made me even later for work, may you have an actual problem someday and have to wait – and wait – and WAIT!)

    Desist The Tourist Assist

    , | Bali, Indonesia | Comics Single, Health & Body, Tourists/Travel, Transportation, Wild & Unruly

    (I’m Indonesian and I live in an area where there are lots of tourists. Being Bali itself, there are barely any traffic laws enforced and lots of tourists tend to rent out scooters and treat them like toys. I’m turning into my favorite restaurant at a T-junction with no red light and my blinkers on, and today I felt like being extra cautious since the scooter I borrowed is my friend’s. I slow down and see a tourist and her son far away in the opposite direction but as I cross from the other side of the street, I see her actually speed up in her attempt to pass me when clearly there is a hump coming up. It’s rainy season so the roads are wet and of course when she tries to brake while going 40 miles/hour the bike violently slides. I am watching the whole thing since I have already parked my motorbike. Luckily no one was badly hurt.)

    Me: “Are you all right, lady?”

    Tourist: “This is your fault, you stupid girl! That was an illegal turn!”

    Me: “Well, no, that wasn’t illegal. This is a two-way road.”

    Tourist: “You apologize and you go pay for my bike!”

    Me: “No, you were going too fast on rainy day. I had my blinkers on and clearly about to turn in. I saw you and you were far away.”

    Tourist: “I don’t care! I have an international license!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t mean anything, especially when you drive like that! I’m sorry this happened though. I suggest you go to the mechanics. They’ll fix up the scratches and it’s really cheap. Don’t go to the place where you rented the bike or they’ll make you pay $100.”

    Tourist: “So you admit it? It’s your fault!”

    Me: “I meant sorry this had to happen to you, not sorry my bad. Lady, I did nothing wrong. In fact I was actually trying to help you out!”

    Tourist: “No, this is your fault! You owe me money! YOU OWE ME MONEY!”

    (I look at the bike, it’s brand new but with a few scratches because of the crash. While the argument just goes back and forth, her son is clearly huddled under a tree crying and also he was wearing NO helmet while riding on the back with his mother.)

    Tourist: “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! WHY DID YOU DO THAT? YOU OWE ME MONEY OR I’LL CALL THE COPS!”

    Me: “Lady, go ahead. I’m not worried. But clearly the money seems more important to you than your son who could be injured.”

    (She looks at her son who is in shock. She asks him if he’s all right and takes a second to check for any bleeding and then goes back to me.)

    Me: “If you’d like I can point you towards the closest hospital or clinic.”

    Tourist: “NO! You owe me money! You are just a stupid girl! I’m calling the cops! Give me your address, phone number, and the money!”

    Me: “Lady, I have no money! Not on me and certainly not enough in the bank and if I did I wouldn’t give any of it to you! I’ve offered to go to the mechanics with you but I’m not paying a cent for your own negligence! I’m a painter, lady! I’m broke!”

    Tourist: “Well, I’m broke, too!”

    Me:” Right, you’re so broke you rented a brand new bike during your vacation in Bali. Here let me call the police for you.”

    (At this point I decided to call my boyfriend’s mom, a cop who is head of the district we’re in. As I’m calling I began to tear up a bit from all the frustration. I wait on the phone for a good five minutes until the tourist gave up and asked me for my number to show her a good mechanic. And after that full hour of arguing, she didn’t even feel it important enough follow through on the mechanic BECAUSE SHE WAS LATE FOR A MASSAGE!)

    Page 1/3112345...Last