My wife and I were full-time RVers and we decided it was time to get a new mattress for our bed in the RV. We went to a local store and arranged to purchase the mattress. Beds in most RVs do not use box springs, as they are on a pedestal.

Me: “I want to buy the mattress, but I don’t want to buy the box spring.”

Salesperson: “Umm… I don’t think I can do that. Let me get a manager.”

I looked at my wife and she was just shaking her head because she knows I have a low tolerance for stupid.

Manager: “I can’t sell you just the mattress. You have to purchase the box spring, as well.”

Me: “No, I don’t.”

Manager: “Our rules say you do.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll purchase it, but I won’t take it.”

Manager: “No, you have to use it.”

Me: “What? Most RVs don’t have room to put a mattress on top of a box spring.”

Manager: “You must use a box spring.”

Me: “Why?”  

Manager: “Because… umm… it’s a fire hazard not to use it.”

I looked at her and then at the hundreds of mattresses on display throughout the showroom that were sitting on pedestal foundations.

Me: “In that case, why hasn’t your store burned to the ground?”

We walked out and purchased JUST the mattress at a different store.

I’m a former car insurance agent. I once had someone screaming at me that if we didn’t do what he wanted, then he would cancel his policy. What he wanted was illegal, so it wasn’t happening no matter who he complained to. After he was repeatedly denied, he kept telling us to cancel his policy.

Me: “You should really get new insurance first; our state has mandatory insurance requirements on active registration.”

Customer: “Cancel it anyway, RIGHT NOW!”

So, I did.

A couple of days later, he called back, VERY pissed.

Customer: “I couldn’t find new insurance, and now my driver’s license is suspended, I have a court appearance, and I’m suspended from my job!”

He was caught driving without valid insurance, so on top of the normal issues of no insurance on active registration, so he now has a very expensive ticket, too. His job also required a valid license, so he couldn’t work until everything was resolved. I warned him, but he didn’t listen.

I’m not commissioned, so when I tell you something, try listening; I’m just trying to help you and advise you about the law.

Several years ago, after Grandpa’s first stroke, my dad and grandpa went to a great big extended family reunion. It had been quite a while since they’d seen that side of the family. Grandpa wasn’t saying much because of the stroke, but his mind was as sharp as ever, so when he said something, people listened.

Grandpa: “I guess [Relative] finally gave up woodworking.”

Dad: “What makes you say that, Dad?”

Grandpa: “Well, he’s not missing any more fingers.”

Later, Dad decided to go talk to [Relative].

Dad: “My dad seems to think you’ve given up woodworking.”

Relative: *Surprised* “Well, yeah, but how’d he know about that?”

Dad: “He says it’s because you stopped losing fingers.”

Dad looked at [Relative]’s hands, and sure enough, [Relative] was missing several fingers.

Relative: *Indignant* “That’s not why I stopped! I stopped because my workshop burned down and my wife wouldn’t let me buy more tools!”

Relative’s Wife: *Cracking up* “I wouldn’t let you buy more tools so you’d stop losing fingers!”

This takes place back in 2013. I am a petite nineteen-year-old female. My boyfriend and I are on a double-date seeing “Iron Man 3” on premiere night. We arrive at that theater well before it starts to get good spots.

A few minutes into the movie, my boyfriend gets a bloody nose and goes to the restrooms to take care of it. The movie is about twenty minutes in when a man and his date walk into the theater. The theater is full and there are no seats together anymore. They spot the seat next to me with my boyfriend’s jacket in it and walk over.

Man: “Is that seat available?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Man: “No one’s sitting in it.”

Me: “My boyfriend is.”

Man: “Well, he’s not here right now. We want seats together.”

Me: “He’s coming back.”

Man: “There are no more seats next to each other. Get up and find somewhere else.”

Me: “No. We were here an hour before the movie started to get spots and you just now walked in, with concessions, on opening night, and the movie has already been playing for twenty minutes.”

Man: “I want that spot. Get up.”

I ignore him.

Man: “I said get up, girl! Don’t make me move you.”

I ignore him again, which results in him reaching toward me to grab my arm.

Me: “Woah, dude! No! Not okay! Don’t touch me.”

This has now gained the attention of my boyfriend’s friend, who is 6’2″; the guy is probably 5’8″. My friend gets out of his seat.

Friend: “Is there a problem? What are you trying to do to my buddy’s girlfriend?”

Man: “I… uhhh… Nothing, man. We’re all good.”

He slunk off to his girlfriend, and thankfully, we didn’t see them for the rest of the night.

Me: “[Hotel], how can I help you?”

Caller: “Are you the manager?”

Me: “I’m the manager on duty.”

Caller: “I tried to check in yesterday, and they said I was on some list and can’t rent there anymore.”

Me: “Okay.”

Caller: “Why am I on this list?”

Me: “What’s your name?”

Caller: “[Caller].”

Me: “Oh, okay. During your last stay, you were in a nonsmoking room and there was evidence that someone had smoked in it, so we will not be renting to you anymore.”

Caller: “So?”

Me: “So… what?”

Caller: “I was supposed to be in a smoking room.”

Me: “You were checked into a nonsmoking room that was clearly marked as non-smoking by the room number, and there are two signs in the room stating that it is nonsmoking.”

Caller: “So what? I reserved a smoking room for the next day, but y’all are working on your stairs so I couldn’t get a smoking room.”

Me: “You would not have been able to reserve one of the smoking rooms upstairs because of the work being done, and I see no evidence that you did.”

Caller: “Well, I did.”

Me: “I have no evidence of that. Regardless, the room is marked nonsmoking, and when you signed the registration card, you agreed not to smoke in the room, and to pay $250 if you did.”

Caller: “I didn’t sign anything.”

Me: “The registration card is the paper you sign when you check in.”

Caller: “Well, I didn’t sign it.”

Me: “Okay, I don’t believe you. Either way, the room is marked non-smoking, and while it was rented to you, it was smoked in, so you are no longer welcome here.”

Caller: “What does this have to do with me?”

Me: “You smoked in a nonsmoking room.”

Caller: “Well, you know the guy with the glasses?”

Me: “Yes [Part-Time Night Audit].”

Caller: “He checked me in.”

Me: “Uh-huh.”

Caller: “So you need to talk to him.”

Me: “I don’t. I see right here he checked you into a nonsmoking room. Oh, and here’s the original reservation you made for the wrong day… which was also for a nonsmoking room.”

Caller: “I booked a smoking room.”

Me: “You did not. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Caller: “You can’t tell me I can’t stay there anymore.”

Me: “We can. Consider this notification that you are no longer allowed at the hotel. If you return, we will call the police and have you trespassed.”

Caller: “You can’t do that. I’m going to come get a room tomorrow and prove it!”

Me: “We’re not going to rent you a room, don’t waste either of our—”

And she hung up. In case you’re wondering, she absolutely did sign a registration card. I checked.