I had ordered a sandwich delivered by [Delivery App], so I wasn’t too surprised to get a phone call from someone about a delivery.

It wasn’t [Delivery App]. It was a man claiming I had won $18,500,000, plus a brand-new Mercedes. I should expect someone to deliver the check for $18,500,000 and a tow truck with the new Mercedes to my house that evening.

He knew my address, which was a little disturbing. I didn’t believe it and told the man I thought it was a scam because I hadn’t entered any contests. He argued with me. I laughed and hung up.

He called me back four times. He was really angry that I didn’t believe him and insisted that I was going to be a rich lady. Then, he said that all I had to do was pay for the shipping and handling. I laughed and said, “There’s the scam!” and told him to quit bothering me.

I hung up again and was able to block his number before he called me again.

Afterward, I wished I had thought to ask him if he was a Nigerian prince!

This happened a few years ago. I was working the last shift at a gas station along a major highway. The manager shouldn’t have put me on the last shift, which went very late, as I was only eighteen years old and studying for college, especially considering that the gas station was a short drive out of town, but he did.

Twenty minutes before closing time, I am behind the counter when I see a smartly-dressed woman in her forties come inside followed by two younger women a few years older than me. They are both scruffily dressed and their clothes do not fit. One of them is wearing a T-shirt and trousers that are about two sizes too small. Both are carrying those cloth bags that you buy from a supermarket to reuse.

Woman: “Can my daughters look around quickly? I promise we won’t be long.”

Me: “Okay.”

I need to tidy the shelves anyway, so I leave the counter. I notice that wherever I go, the woman stays in the same aisle, even closer if one of the two girls is nearby. The girls keep looking at the bars of candy or browsing the rows of clothes. One of the two young women picks up a pretty dress.

Girl #1: “Do you think she’ll let us get this?”

Girl #2: *Sniggering* “The woman who makes you, me, and [Other Girl] wear three bras between us?”

The first girl also starts to giggle, putting the dress back.

Girl #1: “Who knows what’ll happen by the time [Other Girls] starts puberty?”

They keep glancing over chocolate and magazines while I go to count stock. The older woman comes up to me with a T-shirt.

Woman: “Sorry, but could you please take the security tag off for me? I want to pay.”

I go over to the register while the woman keeps going on about the difficulty of finding a good outfit. I soon feel as if she is distracting me. Then, I hear a shout from the two girls. I run over and see that the first girl has fallen on the floor.

Me: “Are you all right?”

Girl #1: “No. My leg hurts.”

I couldn’t see any damage, but I started going into protocol. As I said, I was the only person on shift. My manager had his phone number on a sticky note behind the counter, but my phone was back there. When I tried to get up to leave, the girl whined again.

After what seemed like forever, the woman was standing next to me. I turned to her for help, but she pushed me into a rack of clothing. Before I could get up, I felt the kick of her boot in my face. I heard the three of them running away. When I got up, I found that several items had gone missing and the till was empty.

I called my manager, who then chewed me out for leaving the till unmanned. A total of $316 had been stolen from the register, as well as $276 in goods. Thankfully, my manager didn’t make me pay back the money, but I left that job as soon as I was able to.

In 2007, I am involved in a traffic accident on a ramp on the freeway in Baltimore. Traffic goes from the speed limit — fifty-five miles per hour — to a dead stop around the curve of the exit in a space of 500 feet, AND it has just started raining. My Honda Accord and I manage to stop literal inches from the bumper of the car in front of me. I have enough time to have half a sigh of relief before I am rear-ended so hard that the can of tea in my waist-level console cupholder winds up splattered all over the windshield.

I get out of the car, and the person who hit me is literally crying blood. She’s driving a Saturn that is at least a decade old, and the ancient airbag broke her nose and blacked both of her eyes. She’s also crying for real because this is her only transportation.

I go, “F***,” grab an umbrella out of my now weirdly-shaped backseat, and hold it over her while she sobs.

Girl: “My brakes have been locking up lately. I was literally on my way to the mechanic!”

She tries to text her boyfriend to pick her up. She’s crying so hard that she drops her phone twice.

And then a cop shows up.

He writes this girl a ticket for “failure to control speed to avoid an accident”, “reckless endangerment”, and half a dozen other bulls*** things to the point that the ticket will literally cost more than a new car and she might get her license revoked and/or jail time.

She’s hysterical. I talk to her, reassure her that it’s not her fault, and manage to swap insurance information with her.

Fast forward two months. I had mild whiplash, but I’m healed up and mostly good regarding the accident. I have a new car and everything. I get a notice in the mail that I am requested to be a witness for this poor girl’s trial for her ticket; I don’t have to show, but it’d be nice.

F*** if I’m gonna let that cop roast her. I was asked, so I’m taking a day off work to show up.

I turn up in court dressed in my civil servant best. I’m working for the state government at the time, so however staid you imagine that outfit looking, multiply it by three. I even toss on some makeup to impress the judge. I wait three hours for her hearing, because h*** if I’m gonna accidentally be late. The cop goes first, making up a bunch of bulls*** about how recklessly she was driving to have hit me in an accident he was probably ten miles away from witnessing based on his response time.

Then, the judge calls me, and I stand up. The cop looks this weird combo of Surprised Pikachu Face and pissed — like he didn’t expect me to show. The poor girl was already crying, and she starts crying more.

I get to the stand, get sworn in, and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Me: “We were going exactly the speed limit. I know because I checked my speedometer in surprise that there wasn’t more traffic. [Girl] was following a proper distance behind me; I checked my rearview mirror and she was a ways off. It had just started raining after a dry week, so the road was very greasy; I knew that because I’d almost slid into the car in front of me, only saved by my car’s ABS [anti-lock braking system]. [Girl]’s wheels locked; I heard the screech and saw the skid marks. She definitely wasn’t at fault because she was on her way to get her car’s old ABS fixed.”

I also mention:

Me: “[Cop] didn’t show up until twenty minutes later.”

I know this sounds like an “…and everyone clapped!” moment, but the judge did thank me for doing my civic duty and turning up. And I got a quick hug from the poor girl after the judge dismissed her charges.

Anyway, if you can turn up in court to fight a traffic ticket (even someone else’s), you should do so.

I worked in a hotel with a bar — a super ritzy place where there was a room that was over $5,000 a night and a shot of alcohol that was $1,000 — for a little over two years and have hundreds of stories. However, I am going to start off with one of my favorites. I was the supervisor of the contract security division.

After a portion of the rush was taken care of one night, I had the opportunity to go out for a lightly deserved smoke break. The smoking section was beneath the balcony of the bar. While I was shooting the s*** with a coworker, I heard the crash of a bottle as it fell from the balcony.

“Oh, s***. Time to get back to work,” I thought, as that was never a good sign.

When I got up to the bar and made my way through the crowd, I spoke to one of my officers who had a really keen eye for dumba**ery. I gave him an update and asked him to keep an eye on the balcony. He did so, and not even a minute later he came back to me.

Officer: “I just saw someone throwing a bottle off the balcony.”

[Officer] later informed me that [Guest] had been trying to sell alcohol to another bar patron, which is illegal in my state. That bar patron told [Guest] no but that they were going to get security, which is why [Guest] had decided to throw the bottle of alcohol from the balcony.

My second-in-command officer and I approached the guest, and we escorted him out.

In our bar, we had a sign at the exit for people leaving that stated, “No alcohol beyond this point”, which was one of our ways of keeping the place state legal. As we passed this sign, [Guest] must have seen the sign because he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little bag of coke.

Guest: “I don’t have any alcohol but I have this.”

At that point, I radioed property security, and they sent “Tower” over. Tower was an officer who worked private security for the property. He stood at about 6’8” and was a tower of a man.

I got [Guest] out on the second floor, and he wandered off. When Tower showed up, I updated him and gave him a description of [Guest], but at this point, [Guest] returned and shoved a group of random people, stating, “They were in my way,” as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. I went to talk to the group he had shoved, and Tower spoke to [Guest].

You know that one guy on your team that not a single person will screw with? That was Tower, mainly because there wasn’t anyone even close to his size, but also because he was a giant teddy bear. But [Guest] was pretty much ignoring Tower, to the point that he just walked away. Tower got the police on the radio and they met him at the skybridge.

I got the group that [Guest] had shoved to calm down, asked if everyone was unharmed, told them that we were handling this guy, and let them know that if they wanted to they could file assault charges. They declined, and we moved on.

I turned around to see [Guest] peeing off the skybridge while Tower was speaking on the radio.

At the end of this incident, [Guest] was trespassed from the property, but the police released him because the amount of coke in his possession wasn’t enough to prosecute. They did confiscate his coke, though.

BUT WAIT: THERE’S MORE!

[Guest] came back to the property later, found the officer who had confiscated his coke, and asked:

Guest: “Can I have my coke back?”

That officer called the police, who arrested him for violating a trespass, and it turned out he had warrants for his arrest in other states. All in all, that was the last time I will ever see [Guest]… probably.

In 2013 or so, I am an adjuster for a popular car insurance company. I go to many tow lots after car accidents and decide if a car was a total loss or send it to a body shop, as well as do the initial write-up of an estimate on repair costs.

The tow lot I am at today also works with the state police and houses their overflow storage for anything deemed evidence and on hold from release. These vehicles are kept behind a locked gate inside the already fenced, gated tow yard.

I am here to do an appraisal on two vehicles. They were involved in a minor accident; however, both were left unable to drive from the scene due to either multiple flats, lights knocked out, or windows busted. I’ve finished the first vehicle and started taking photos of the second vehicle. I have headphones in.

I see a woman walking up to the police evidence lot and the gate swinging open out of the corner of my eye. I’m not paying much attention. My back is turned to this woman as I take the last couple of photos I need. The last is a photograph of the VIN of the vehicle, which is located where the windshield meets the hood almost on the dash.

Out of nowhere, this woman grabs both cables to my headphones from behind and rips them out of my ears.

Woman: “Excuse me! Why are there two cars in front of mine so I cannot get it out?”

This lot stacks cars in four or five deep, side by side, and moves them around with a small truck to release them.

Me: “Please don’t touch me, and I don’t think you should be in here. And I don’t w—”

Woman: “You shouldn’t be listening to music on the job, anyway, or slacking off taking pictures of other people’s belongings. You’re probably back here stealing.”

I attempt to point at the insurance company logo on my blue jacket, but the woman continues on.

Woman: “Are you going to do your job, or do I need to call the police because you’re refusing to give me my property?”

Me: “Have you gone into the office at [Towing Company]?”

Woman: “No, I saw you here, and you need to move these cars so I can get mine and leave.”

She marches over to the evidence lot, opens the door of the first car blocking hers, and gets in.

Me: “HEY! HEY! NO! You can’t go in there! That is police evidence!”

I use my cell phone to call the towing company and inform them of what’s happening.

Woman: “If you won’t move these cars, then I will! Where are the f****** keys?”

Me: “In the office with the employees.”

The towing company’s manager comes running out with a phone in his hand.

Manager: “Hey, lady, get the h*** out of there! Those cars are property of the state police!”

[Manager] frantically called someone on his phone. Then, he saw that the chain used to keep the lot closed had been cut WITH BOLT CUTTERS. The woman was carrying a pair of bolt cutters and had thrown them into her car when she was back at it.

[Manager] and the woman argued back and forth, and I listened and half-paid attention as I finished my duties for work.

About ten minutes passed, and SEVEN police cars came flying into the lot.

[Manager] greeted the police and started to explain what was going on, but the woman attempted to scream at the police that I had stolen her car. One officer told the woman to stand over in the direction he pointed in, sending a female officer to wait with her. It turned out that the Lieutenant who was in charge of the County’s Police Tow Licenses was on the scene.

After getting [Manager]’s story, [Lieutenant] came to me and took mine. While I was informing him of what had happened, the woman overheard and started yelling and attempting to approach me. The officer standing with her grabbed her by her arm. The woman yanked her arm out of the officer’s hand and shoved her, surprisingly knocking the officer down.

The woman was screaming incoherently as she charged toward me. [Lieutenant] stepped in front of me and hit the woman with his taser, creating the most beautiful sound in the world. The woman went limp and face-planted in the light gravel of the lot. They immediately handcuffed her.

It turned out the woman had walked onto the lot carrying the bolt cutters while I was in the office talking with staff about the two cars I needed to adjust. She had been roaming the lot until she saw me when I happened to be near her car.

The woman was charged with burglary, two counts of tampering with evidence, assault on a police officer, assault on me, trespassing, and resisting arrest. I know she did jail time, but I’m not sure how much.

Years later, the towing company I now own impounded her car for being double-parked. She remembered who I was and quietly paid.

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