My dad was an a**hole. A lovable a**hole, a compassionate, intelligent, caring a**hole, but piss him off, and he became the pettiest a**hole you would ever meet. I have so many stories about his pettiness, but this one is one of my favorites. (And before anyone asks, I loved my dad fiercely and miss him every day; he passed way too soon.)

One important thing to know about my dad is that if having the most noxious fart were an Olympic sport, he would’ve had multiple gold medals. Long car rides with him could be dangerous. And you knew that if Dad was in the toilet before you got there, you waited until anything he left dissipated, especially if he just had a nice, rich meal.

Dad and I both loved diners, and when we traveled, we would always ask where the good local diners were. On one of our college trips, we arrived at our hotel a little early, and our room wasn’t ready. The hotel clerk was very apologetic (some of their housekeeping staff had called in sick and they were running behind). Since we hadn’t had lunch yet (it was around 2:30 ish) we asked the clerk for their diner recommendations, and they suggested a place not far from the hotel.

Off we go to lunch. Y’all, it’s been over thirty years, but I still remember how good that food was. And our waitress, Sandy.

Why do I remember her name? Because the couple at the table near us kept yelling it over and over and over again. There were maybe ten people in the restaurant total, and Sandy was taking care of most of them. She was on the younger side but knew her stuff. I always like to ask what the staff likes when I’m making my decisions, and she told me what she liked, what they were known for, and what the day grill cook excelled at.

As Dad and I were thoroughly enjoying our food, we watched this couple treat Sandy like she was stupid. They sent their food back multiple times, and said nasty things about Sandy so loud that we had no trouble overhearing them.

Every time Sandy came to drop something off, or check on us, she just looked more and more upset. Since we weren’t in a hurry (and the restaurant wasn’t busy) we lingered over our meal, ordered dessert, and were still there when the mean couple paid their check (you paid at the cash register) and told Sandy (quite loudly) that since her service was so bad, all they were leaving her was a dollar tip and they thought that was being generous.

They left, and when Sandy came to give us our check, she looked like she had been crying. Dad went to pay the check and gave her a very generous tip. When we got in the car, he was pissed, and I got to hear a lecture about how if he ever found out I treated a server like those people had, he would whoop my a** no matter how old I was.

We got back to the hotel and had just checked in when another couple walked into the lobby. They headed towards the elevator that we were heading towards, and Dad and I both realized that it was the nasty couple from the restaurant who had been so mean to Sandy.

We got on the elevator with them; they were staying on a floor above ours. Just as the door opened on our floor and I was walking out, my dad paused, let out a large noxious fart, and said, “That’s for Sandy,” and then walked off, smiling as the elevator door closed, hotboxing the nasty couple in with his equally nasty fart.

I laughed so hard I cried. I do feel bad for anyone else who had to ride that elevator after that.

I work in a novelty store that sells, among other things, non-precious gems and crystals. Most customers like them because they’re pretty, but we do get a few oddballs. I remain polite with them, but my coworker likes to have a little fun.

Customer: “Are these all the crystals you have in stock?”

Coworker: “Yes, ma’am.”

Customer: “I was told magic crystals are good for coronary artery disease. Which ones are those?”

Coworker: “They are, but they are very difficult to get all the way into the coronary artery.”

Manager: *Loud, obvious cough.*

Coworker: “Sorry, ma’am, none of our crystals are magic, just regular. You might want to check with a doctor and ask them.”

Customer: “I don’t trust doctors.”

Coworker: “Apparently…”

The customer left, and my manager told him to knock it off, but we were all giggling.

I’m on a subway train. I look up to see an old woman standing right in front of me. Out of instinct, I immediately offer her my seat, which she gladly accepts.

Another woman (sitting) remarks:

Woman: “Hmm, lots of women on this train but you wait for an old White lady to get on before offering a seat. Interesting.”

Me: “I offered because she’s right next to me and I just noticed. Plenty of people on this train looking older than you. Are you going to offer them your seat?”

Woman: “Just think it’s interesting, that’s all I’m saying.”

Me: “You’re one of those people that sees people donating to a ‘save the whales’ charity and shouts ‘what about the dolphins!’ It’s whataboutism and it’s exhausting. I can’t offer a seat to everyone needing one on this train because I only have one a**. You seem to be the biggest a** in here, though, so by standing we should all be able to get a seat.”

She had nothing to say to me after that. She remained seated until the next stop, where she got off. I’m hoping that wasn’t actually her stop, but she felt too ashamed to remain on board and had to get off and wait for the next one.

The doctor is explaining a medical condition to a young patient. He has recently moved to the UK, and English is not his first language.

Doctor: “It’s ringworm.”

Patient: *Looking horrified.* “I have worms!?”

Doctor: “No, it’s a fungus.”

Patient: “So, there is no worm?”

Doctor: “That’s right.”

Patient: “You named a condition after a worm that’s not a worm?”

Doctor: “That’s… also right.”

Patient: “You English are terrible at naming your medical conditions!”

The following happened a few years ago and has been condensed for storytelling purposes.

I work in an office for an international company. We have offices all over North America, Europe, and Asia. I’m based in New York. My boss wanders up at 8 AM and says to me:

Boss: “Remember we have [International Transfer] starting today. He’s here for two months to get [project] up and running.”

Me: “Didn’t I hear from HR that there was an issue with getting him here so early?”

Boss: “Yeah, his boss tried to delay it, but I went to [Big Scary Boss] and insisted he must start today.”

9 AM rolls around, and the new guy saunters into the office. His gait seems purposefully casual.

Boss: *Running up to him.* “Where have you been?! It’s nine!”

International Transfer: “Yes. We start the workday at 9 AM, do we not?”

Boss: “Only on paper. It’s strongly encouraged to come in at 8 AM to ensure that—”

International Transfer: “—Well then I strongly encourage you to put down on paper that my start time is 8 AM.”

Boss: “That’s not how it works.”

International Transfer: “If you say that is not how it works, then that is also not how I work. Anyway, I just came to introduce myself. I will see you in three weeks.”

Boss: “Wha… what do you mean?”

International Transfer: “I had my annual leave approved to start from today, for three weeks. Your boss told my boss that I had to come into the office today to introduce myself to you. So here I am, introducing myself to you today. But HR rules also stated that my three weeks of annual leave can’t be cancelled once approved, so I’m going to start it right now. I think I might go see The Met.”

Boss: “That’s not gonna fly. You’re here to start [project] today.”

International Transfer: “I did, by introducing myself. See you!”

Boss: “What makes you think you can just walk out and take three weeks of vacation just like that?!”

International Transfer: “I’m French. Au revoir!”

True to his word, the French Transfer just waltzed out. [Boss] was livid, and called his boss, who spoke to the European Boss, and after much shouting, it was established that European law was very strict and his vacation time (of which he gets six freaking weeks a year) was approved and couldn’t be taken away. This had been explained to our boss, but he had assumed that the vacation time could just be cancelled and didn’t look at the European HR rules. 

Because our boss had insisted on the French guy coming in today, the company had paid for the business-class flight from Paris to New York for him. That’s when he decided he’d be vacationing in New York for three weeks, with flight and fancy hotel paid for by the company, thanks to our boss’s insistence to get him in the office TODAY. 

He came back three weeks later and used his expertise to get the project completed on time and on budget (he was really REALLY good), but by golly, was our boss angry the entire time.