(A few years ago my brother had a child with a woman from a terrible family. Racist grandmother, drug-addicted mother, brother, sister, and brother-in-law, and a stepfather who claimed to once be a “Hell’s Angel.” Predictably, things went south in the relationship and custody of my niece was in contention in court. Months of court dates had left emotions frayed and everyone on edge. While shopping at a local hardware store I have the unfortunate luck to run into the meth-addict brother-in-law of the family. We happen to end up in the same aisle and he calls out loudly.)

Brother-In-Law: “HEY!”

(I look up and see him with his five-year-old son, say a quick, “nope,” and turn around to walk away. The meth-head brother-in-law starts following me down the aisles of the hardware store. Never one to blink at an opportunity, I pull out my phone and start filming him over my shoulder.)

Brother-In-Law: “HEY, YOU F****** B****! YOU AND YOUR WHOLE F****** FAMILY ARE GOING DOWN! YOU BETTER HOPE I DON’T CATCH ANY OF YOU F****** A**HOLES OR I’LL F*** YOU ALL UP!”

(This is while his seemingly forgotten son chases to keep up with him. Thankfully there is no physical altercation, but the video is worth its weight in gold. Fast forward through police reports and applying for a restraining order, to the court date. Our case is the last on the docket, so I endure a few hours of meth-head brother-in-law giving his missing-tooth smile, thinking he’s going to get off scot-free. Finally our case is called, and I am asked to present my side of the story. After I explain that I did nothing but turn and walk away while being verbally harassed, the judge then asks for the meth-head brother-in-law’s side.)

Brother-In-Law: “Your Honor, he and his dad chased me down the aisles! And when I held my hand out to shake hands and say hi, he ‘spitted’ on me and yelled at me! I had my son with me, and they yelled at him, too! I would never act that way around my son! Never!”

(No, my dad was not with me that day; I was alone. And yes, he said “spitted.”)

Judge: *to me* “Do you have anything to say to refute Mr. [Brother-In-Law]’s story?”

Me: “Yes, Your Honor; I have video of the incident.”

(I now get to look over at my meth-head brother-in-law with my own smile and see his grin slip off his face. I hand my phone over to the judge and she watches while glancing up at the two of us.)

Judge: “Well, Mr. [Brother-In-Law], not only can I see you and your son in this video, I can see him struggling to keep up with you. I can also hear the threats you’re making to Mr. [My Name] and his family. I am awarding Mr. [My Name] his restraining order and would advise that the next time you end up in court, try not to lie to the judge.”

(Cue an expletive-laden rant from my brother-in-law and the judge suggesting an escort for me to my car.)

(I am a young male working as a cashier. Because I’m underage, I cannot sell alcohol. A woman in her 30s approaches my checkout.)

Customer: “Hello, sweetheart. Just this.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go to the other register. I’m underage, so I can’t sell you liquor.”

Customer: “Come on. Can’t you let it slide, cutie? I can give you a nice tip.”

Me: “Rules are rules. I cannot sell you alcohol.”

Customer: “Baby, you’re making this way more difficult than it should be. I just want some good liquor to enjoy with someone handsome, like you.”

(The customer is uncomfortably close and is trying to place cash in my jean pocket. A regular customer comes and drags her off me.)

Customer: “Hey! What gives?”

Regular: “Please step away from him.”

Customer: “Do you know who I am?”

Regular: “Yes, a woman in her thirties flirting with and trying to get a minor to sell her alcohol.”

Customer: “And who the hell are you, a**hole?”

Regular: “An off-duty cop. Want to see my badge?”

(I have never seen anyone run so fast out of a store. A report was filed and camera footage was given. I have no idea what happened to that woman.)

(I am a shift manager for a fast food chain. We are one block off the square in a major college town with about a dozen bars, pubs, and clubs within walking distance, so on the weekends, our lobby is open until midnight. I’m in the back, when one of the girls running the lobby register runs back and says she needs me NOW. I hurry up to the counter in time to see a middle-aged guy with some sort of panel trying to get out of the lobby through the front door. As I approach the guy I realize he has somehow taken the urinal divider wall from the mens’ restroom.)

Me: “Sir, what are you doing?”

Man: *very drunk, yet extremely polite* “I’m having a hard time getting this to fit out the door; can you help me, please?”

(I’m dumbfounded.)

Me: “Why don’t you sit down for a minute and I’ll get someone to help you.”

(I sit him down and gave him a free cup of water, and just call the police.)

Police Dispatcher: “[Town] sheriff’s office…”

Me: *introduces self and provides location* “Yeah, I need some police officers here to help with a drunk customer.”

Police Dispatcher: “Is he being irate or violent?”

Me: “No, but he’s trying to steal the urinal wall from the restroom; he already has it in the lobby but can’t manage the front door”

Police Dispatcher: *long pause* “Could you repeat that?” *trying very hard not to laugh*

Me: *chuckling* “Yeah. He’s trying to take off with it. He’s being very polite and, other than the obvious, he is not being disruptive”

Police Dispatcher: *losing it by now* “Okay, hun, we will send someone out. Did he say why he wanted it?”

Me: “No, and I didn’t want to ask, but you’re right. Why would anyone want it?”

Dispatcher: “I don’t know, but a patrol will be there in a few minutes.”

(The police showed up and, after a few minutes of talking to him, took him out to the car without causing a scene, and I’m assuming they took him to the drunk tank. I wound up having to call our maintenance guy the next day to rehang the wall. We’re still not sure how he got it off the wall, or what he wanted it for.)

(A friend who is deaf sees a stranger in a car with a gun. He sends an SMS to an emergency service for deaf people.)

Emergency Service: “Hello, this service is only for deaf people.”

Friend: “Yes, I’m deaf.”

Emergency Service: “You should call the police.”

Friend: “I can’t; I’m deaf. Can you transfer my SMS?”

Emergency Service: “You didn’t call the police?”

Friend: “No, it’s impossible. I’m deaf.”

Emergency Service: “If you’re declining to call the police, we can’t help.”

In my state, you can turn right on red at a traffic light. Unless you have a green arrow to signify the right-of-way — or even the solid green light — you do not have to turn, nor should you if it isn’t safe.

Today, I was at a red light waiting to turn right. I inched forward, saw a car coming from the left, and stopped. Immediately, the driver behind me blared her horn and gestured that she wanted me to turn.

I inched up a little further after the car from the left passed, looking for another car before turning.

Again, the woman behind me blared her horn. I looked in my rear view mirror to see her screaming and giving me both middle fingers. I waved (with my whole hand) and sat there until the light turned green. When it finally did change, I turned and the woman behind me drove up on the shoulder to be beside me. She rolled down her window and screamed, “YOU DUMB C***! LEARN TO DRIVE!”

It was just about that time that a local police officer a few cars behind us turned on his lights and brought her to a stop. I didn’t stick around to see what happened, but I’m guessing I’m not the only one who received some advice about driving.