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Getting Owned By The Owner: Super Bowl Edition

, , , , , | Right | February 11, 2024

My friend’s family has a Pizza shop that has been closed on Sundays for its fifty years of existence.

Since the Philadelphia Eagles were in the Super Bowl this year, the family decided to use the restaurant to host a big Super Bowl party for family and friends.

They put a big sign on the window.

Sign: “Closed Sunday: Private Party.”

About an hour before the game, we heard loud rapping on the locked front door. We were chosen to deliver the news.

Customer: “We want to order a pizza and wings.”

Me: “Sorry, we are closed; this is a private party.”

Customer: “I know the owner and he said we could get food.”

Me: “Sorry, we are closed; this is a private party.”

Customer: *Now screaming.* “I know the owner and he said we could get food!”

The owner finally comes to the front door and tells the women:

Owner: “Sorry, we are closed; this is a private party.”

Customer: “I know the owner and he said we could get food!”

Owner: “Oh? Can I have your names?”

They eagerly provide their names, and my manager smiles.

Owner: “I am the owner; we are closed for a private party. We have never been open on Sunday and you are now banned; never come back here.”

It was almost a great day, but the Eagles lost.

Related:

Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 24
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 23
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 22
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 21
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 20

When They’re Not The Brightest Corn On The Cob

, , , , , | Right | December 1, 2023

We sell roasted corn on the cob at festivals and other events. We are set up in a small college town for a community food truck festival at the beginning of May. The school is in Pennsylvania. Tuition at this school is very expensive, and it is known for its liberal arts curriculum.

I group of young people approached us to purchase corn, and a member of the group asks:

Customer: “Is this locally-sourced corn?”

I smile, while my soul is slowly dying

Me: “The corn is from Southern Florida.”

Customer: “If you will not support local farmers, then I will not support you.”

I feel so bad for whoever is paying $80,000 a year for tuition for a child who does not know that crops do not grow year-round in the Northeastern section of the United States.

I Dreamed A Dream Of Visiting Scotland

, , , , , , , | Right | November 24, 2023

I am on holiday in the United States. I am shopping for some souvenirs in a souvenir shop when the Samoan lady who runs the place approaches me.

Owner: “Where are you from?”

Me: “Scotland.”

Her face lit up! She very excitedly ran into the other room and got out her Susan Boyle CD and a copy of “Braveheart”.

I don’t know why, but it seemed genuinely sweet, and we chatted for a long while about how excited she was to meet a “Scot” and how much she would love to visit. I told her I would give her the tour when she does so!

The Heights Of His Stupidity Are Topless

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Legal | August 10, 2023

I was riding my bike home late Friday night.  I had full reflectors and lights because I’m many things, but one thing I am not is an idiot. 

My route took me past a local topless club. 

In the parking lot of the bar, groups of frat boy types were doing the typical donuts and hydraulic bounces in the parking lot. I rode by, bored and generally uninterested. 

The D****iest D****e peeled out of the parking lot in his Dodge Charger with the intent to run me off the road. (I know because he and his friends were mocking me for riding a bike as I waited at the stoplight, and he loudly declared his intentions.) 

I swerved and managed to dodge, but I still rear-ended a parked SUV and face-planted into the rear windshield. I suffered a broken nose, a moderate concussion, and a sprained wrist. 

The jerk missed the brake pedal with his foot because he was so drunk, jumped the sidewalk, and hit a brick wall. 

The club bouncer called 911 for me, as the d****es were too busy tending to their D**kface-In-Chief. Police and an ambulance crew arrived and got everything sorted out. 

The Number One Moron Who Tried To Run Me Off The Road blew about two and a half times the legal limit — the legal limit is .08 and he blew .21 — and was subsequently arrested. 

I was getting patched up in the emergency room. Late Stage Alcoholism Face was there, too, as a precaution. (He wasn’t hurt, but I’ve been informed that it’s policy that all people arrested for DUI are assessed in the ER if an accident occurred before being booked.)

The father of The Worst Person I’ve Encountered This Month spent nearly an hour yelling his idiot son, loudly, for the whole hospital to hear. Statements were given, and contact information was shared. It turned out that Creepazoid McGarglebrains wasn’t even twenty-one yet, raising some serious questions about how the topless club even let him in.

The following morning, The Father called me personally even though their lawyer had strongly urged him against this. 

He apologized profusely for T**tbrain Fartharder’s actions. He explained that his son wasn’t charged with assault for trying to ram me because he had plausible deniability by claiming he was just trying an idiot stunt and messed up. But he was dead to rights on DUI resulting in injury and underage drinking. 

The father said he would write me a blank check to cover every dime of my hospital visit and a new bike and helmet, plus a fifteen percent round-up for my troubles. We made a handshake agreement that I wouldn’t sue and that I wouldn’t inflate the figure. 

The father also assured me that he was ashamed of how his son had turned out, that he would not let the kid use the family lawyer, and that Dingleberry was cut off from family money until he completed two years of community college on his own dime and stayed sober for two years. 

I chose to agree because he was making a good-faith effort and I don’t need the hassle of going to court.

Head In The Clouds And Mouth In The Gutter

, , , , , | Working | July 9, 2023

I fly into Philadelphia on a connecting flight. The first plane is so small that all overhead baggage has to be checked at the gate. As I get off in Philadelphia, I wait at the sign that says, “Gate Check Bags Here.” Two attendants are standing there, talking.

Attendant #1: “And I told him, I said, ‘You ain’t my man no more, n*****! You go—” *To an elderly couple walking by* “Have a nice day! Thank you for flying with us.” *Back to her coworker* “And he had the audacity to try to tell me how I’m gonna raise my child! This motherf***er went and f***ed some w**** and still tells me what to do.”

The baggage starts arriving. [Attendant #2] is unloading the bags, and people are picking them up, but [Attendant #1] is still rambling on, swearing and complaining the whole time. I think maybe she is supposed to just supervise, but the annoyed look on [Attendant #2]’s face tells me she should be unloading with him. My bag appears and [Attendant #2] brings it over.

Me: *Looking at [Attendant #2]* “Thank you for doing your job.”

Attendant #2: *Trying not to smile* “You’re welcome, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

Attendant #1: “Yeah, we both working here, you know?”

Me: “I don’t see you doing anything but running your mouth and giving [Airline] a bad reputation.”

She started toward me and I pulled my phone out. She retreated, glaring and giving me the middle finger. I snapped her photo and sent it to the airline to tell them about her behavior.

They replied with a form letter about how they take things seriously, it will be looked into, and so on. I don’t know if anything really happened, though.

I don’t care how you talk at home but there are definitely things you don’t say in front of customers.