I am a tomboy in my late twenties. I’m in the backyard, changing all four wheels on my car — jack, tire lever, and all. My aging neighbour is watering the vegetable garden and following my progress.
Neighbour: “You ought to have been born a man!”
He meant it as a compliment.
Due to the current health crisis, my five-year-old daughter and I wear masks wherever we go, and I use hand sanitizer. However, due to a reaction the last time she used it, my daughter was deemed allergic to the stuff and I have had to resort to keeping her hands busy while in a store. She’s a thumb sucker, so it can be difficult, but I find that giving her my phone to watch videos on helps, and she washes her hands the second she gets home.
We go into a store where wearing masks is mandatory, and I fix hers on her, pick her up, and put her in the cart. I then give her my phone and get some sanitizer on my hands. Apparently, this rubs one lady the wrong way.
Me: “Okay, remember, don’t touch Mama’s hands. Don’t touch anything other than the phone, and do not put your thumb in your mouth.”
Daughter: “Okay, Mama. Love you!”
Me: “I love you, too, babe.”
Lady: “Hey! Hey! Why didn’t you put sanitizer on her hands, too?!”
Me: “Hmm? Uh… she’s allergic. She had a strong reaction last time she used it and her doctor has agreed with me that it was an allergic reaction.”
Lady: “That’s impossible!”
Me: “Um. No, it’s not. Whether or not such an allergy exists, my daughter reacts to the point of swollen, rashy, and itchy skin. I will not put her through that and she knows the routine by now. I need to do my shopping.”
The lady then steps right up to my cart, and I get between her and my daughter.
Me: “Please back up six feet! There is plenty of room, and it’s clear that you only intend to instigate the situation further!”
Lady: “She needs to have hand sanitizer!”
Me: “She is allergic! And due to that, you will not get any closer to her than what you are now!”
Lady: “Are you saying I’m infected? How dare you?!”
I have caught the attention of another worker, who quickly comes over to diffuse the situation.
Worker: “Hey, [My Name]. Everything okay?”
Me: “No, this lady is— What are you doing?!”
I see that she has hand sanitizer in her hand and has glopped some on her and is trying to get around me. I grab her hand, ruining her gloppy mess and pushing her back. The worker quickly gets a hold of the lady and pulls her away. I have no choice but to grab the cart with one hand and drag it to the hand sanitizer stand where the paper towels are and clean my hand, being sure to once again let my daughter know the rules.
Daughter: “Mama… that lady was weird.”
Me: “I know, hon.”
Worker: “Second time this week. I lost count for the month.”
Me: “It just started.”
Worker: “I know.”
I thanked the worker and got my shopping done. Seriously, I know that during these times, there are measures in place, but if someone really can’t use hand sanitizer, or even a mask, or has to, don’t put them down or try and force anything onto them; there is a reason. Thankfully, my daughter was fine, and the second she was home she washed her hands extra long and happily played with her toys while I washed mine. Some people…
I am an aspiring writer and have completed my first book. I print it out and put it in a binder. I meticulously edit and improve it, updating my friends and family all the way.
One roommate thinks she knows better because she’s read more books than me and her grades were better in school. One day, I go home and find that my book has been marked to death, and even worse, certain scenes, including the best one, have been scratched out. I’m upset. I know I can just print it out again, but I decide to talk to my roommates anyway.
Me: “Did one of you mark up my book?”
Roommate #1: “Not me.”
Roommate #2: “Nope.”
Roommate #3: “Yeah, I improved it. I think it’s better this way.”
Me: “Could you not? I was working on it myself, and you edited out the best scenes. If I want your help, I’ll ask for it, but unless I do, don’t touch it.”
Roommate #3: “You’re such a witch sometimes! I made it better!”
Me: “No, you ruined it! Do you remember how upset [Roommate #1] was when her boyfriend destroyed her makeup palette as a prank? I felt like [Roommate #1] when I saw that you had destroyed my book. And don’t call me names.”
Roommate #2: “Really, [Roommate #3], you need to stop touching other people’s stuff. I know it was you who stole my shampoo, too.”
[Roommate #3] sulked the rest of the night and refused to speak to me for a week. I had to shred the old manuscript and print a new one, and this time I hid it somewhere only I could find it.
My boyfriend and I don’t go to the movie theater frequently as it can be expensive, but we do go a few times a year if a movie is coming out that we both are excited to see. This time, a sequel to a very successful horror movie about a clown is coming out and we decide to go see it.
We preorder tickets a week before, and the day of, we get to our seats to find it’s a full house, save a couple of seats here and there. I don’t like crowded places.
Me: “I should have expected it to be this packed. Hopefully, this is a good crowd.”
Boyfriend: “Well, there are a couple of open seats next to us if you want to move later.”
It’s fairly quiet at this point but the sound level rises very quickly all of a sudden. We glance down by the stairs and see a group of teenagers, about five or six in a group together, headed our way. They are talking and laughing loudly.
Boyfriend & Me: “Uh-oh.”
They take all the remaining seats next to us, and then a few immediately get back up and leave the theater, leaving their snacks and bags behind. We don’t think anything of it until they come back and one girl starts yelling.
Girl: “Excuse me? EXCUSE ME!”
We and a few other people turn to look at her.
Girl: “Whoever stole my popcorn needs to give it back now! I’m serious!”
We take a look under and around our seats to see if it may have fallen down or was misplaced, but we find nothing. She continues to rant for a few minutes but nobody is paying attention to her anymore. She leaves again, presumably to get more popcorn, and her friends continue to ask people to return the missing bag to no avail.
Finally, the movie begins; however, we can’t hear the dialogue over the amount of talking between the group next to us. Not only are they being loud, but one of the girls is hopping back and forth over her friends’ seats and even lying horizontally on their laps, kicking our seats, and almost knocking over our snacks.
We’re not confrontational people at all, but my boyfriend has had enough and yells at them.
Boyfriend: “Can you please shut up?!”
All of them respond, saying, “Who do you think you’re talking to?” and, “Uh, you shut up,” and such.
Boyfriend: “This movie is three hours long, so just shut up and watch it!”
I was shrinking in my seat; I had never seen him so angry in public! The group continued to jab at us to keep fighting, and my boyfriend got up and left. When he came back, he said he’d talked to the staff but they wouldn’t throw them out unless they were disrupting other people, too. Thankfully, they quieted down after the first hour of the movie and weren’t much of a problem for the rest of the night. We don’t hate teenagers in the slightest, but being that loud and disruptive would ruin anyone’s movie experience!
Related:
There’s A Special Kind Of Hell For Those Who Talk In The Movie Theater
I’m sitting in my room with the windows open to enjoy the fresh air. Two painters are working right outside my window, so I can hear their conversation perfectly. I’m trying not to eavesdrop, but this gets my attention:
Worker #1: “I’ve been trying really hard to get sober lately. I’ve been sober thirty days, but my son won’t give me a hug. He says, ‘When you give me a year of sobriety, I’ll give you a hug.’ I’m making d*** sure I get that hug, man. D*** sure.”
Worker #2: “Right on, man. That’s amazing.”
I started to tear up hearing that. I really hope he finds the strength to remain sober and get that hug.
