CONTENT WARNING: Pet Death

Early on a Saturday morning, I get a knock on my door and open it to find my neighbor and a cop.

Neighbor: “Hey, this officer is here because he reported that my dog bit his kid half an hour ago.”

He points at a new neighbor who just moved in and is now standing on the street.

Me: “Really?”

Neighbor: “Yep.”

Me: *To the cop* “And he’s absolutely sure it was her dog that bit his kid?”

Cop: “Yes, ma’am. I need to see the dog. Your neighbor says he’s with you?”

Me: “Yep, he is in the garage.”

I then took the cop into the garage and showed him the dog. He left looking furious and went to talk to the new neighbor.

I’m an at-home vet, and I had euthanized my long-time patient — an extremely sick old dog — late the night before and hadn’t had a chance to move him from my garage yet.

Here’s hoping the new neighbor learns from what’s coming.

Like most retail employees, I start wishing customers happy holidays come December first. Near the Christmastime rush, I check a gentleman out.

Me: “And you’re all set! Happy… birthday. Oh. Well, I guess that’s for Jesus, isn’t it?”

The man gave me a wry smile and turned to leave without another word. And that was when I noticed his clerical collar.

I boarded a full flight, took my seat, and waited for takeoff. A woman was standing in the aisle holding her child — maybe five years old — in her arms, looking distressed.

Woman: “How can we not be seated together? I have to be with my baby!”

Attendant: “Okay, where are your seats?”

Woman: *Pointing* “Mine is this window and hers is the middle behind me.”

Attendant: “Okay.”

She addresses the older woman sitting in the middle seat in the same row as the distressed mother.

Attendant: “Miss, would you be willing to switch seats with the child behind you so she can sit with her mother?”

Woman: “No, that’s my mother. She’s elderly; she can’t be moved.”

Attendant: “Okay.”

Now she addresses the woman sitting in the window seat beside the child.

Attendant: “Miss, would you be willing to switch seats with the child behind you so she can sit with her mother?”

Woman: “That’s my sister! What is wrong with you?”

She points to the six seats taking up two rows.

Woman: “This is my family.”

Attendant: “So… you’re all together.”

Woman: “Yes! But I’m supposed to be sitting with my daughter.”

Attendant: “Well, if they’re all your family, perhaps one of them can switch with one of you so—”

Woman: “No! I will not make my family move!”

Attendant: *Throwing her hands in the air* “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am. You can sit with your family, and your daughter can be with her aunt, or—”

Woman: “You are useless!“

Attendant: “I am about to have you removed from this flight.”

Woman: *Quietly* “Please don’t.”

Attendant: “Your daughter is sitting with family. If you don’t want to trade or have someone trade with you, there is nothing I can do.” 

The woman scooted into her window seat, her daughter sitting in the middle behind her. I’ve thought about this moment off and on for years and still cannot determine what she wanted the attendant to do.

I’m a male middle school teacher. My students are around ten to fourteen years old. My school has recently tried to crack down on dress codes after a few years of basically not enforcing anything beyond “cover your private parts”. A lot of teachers, including me, have not been looking forward to being the ones to enforce the dress code because of the stigma around “looking at students” that so many parents and others like to throw around.

After a few relatively minor incidents without any real protest from students, I have my first big case. A female student comes in on a rainy morning in a tight white T-shirt, which has now been rendered completely see-through because she didn’t have a rain jacket or umbrella. Needless to say, her dark-colored bra is completely visible. Unfortunately, this particular girl is known as a troublemaker, with parents who always take her side no matter what, at least in public.

Me: “[Girl], do you have a jacket or sweatshirt you can wear, at least until your T-shirt dries?”

Girl: “Why? What’s wrong with my shirt?”

Me: “You know exactly what’s wrong. Either find something to cover up until your shirt dries, or go change into your gym shirt.”

Our school requires either plain black, dark grey or school color clothing (blue and gold) for gym class. Students can fail the class if they have too many days without appropriate clothing, and since [Girl] is passing gym, I know that she must have an appropriate shirt in her gym locker.

Girl: “I don’t care if anyone sees my bra. My body, my choice.”

Me: “Outside of school, that’s up to you and your parents. In school, it’s not acceptable.”

At this point, several other students start telling her to quit making a scene, and she finally walks out of class and doesn’t return. During my prep hour, the school principal comes into my room.

Principal: “So… what did you say to [Girl] about her T-shirt?”

Me: “I told her that it’s unacceptable in school, and she needs to either wear a jacket or sweatshirt to cover herself until her T-shirt dries or change into her gym shirt.”

Principal: “You didn’t say anything about wet T-shirt contests or dancing on poles?”

Me: “Of course not.”

Principal: “I didn’t think so. [Girl]’s mom came into school after [Girl] apparently called from her cell phone. Mom insisted that everything was perfectly okay and that Mr. [My Name] needs to stop being a pervert.”

Me: “As expected. Any decision?”

Principal: “Yep. One-day suspension for [Girl] for dress code violation and unapproved use of her cell phone during school hours, and Mom has to re-sign the waiver declaring that she’s read the Parent Handbook.”

Me: “Anything for me?”

Principal: “Nope. Even Mom was chewing [Girl] out for dressing like a [derogatory term for a woman who enjoys physical relationships] while they were walking out the door, thinking they were out of hearing range.”

I work as a registered nurse in a county mental health clinic, and that has its own brand of nonsense.

I’m taking a phone call.

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. Can I help you?”

Patient: “I need my [prescription] called in early. I’m going to California because my dad died, and the pharmacist says I need an override from you to get it filled.”

Me: “Sorry to hear your dad died. All I can really do is call in the prescription for you, but it’s up to your insurance as to whether they’ll pay early or not. What’s your name?”

Patient: “Just call it in! G**d***!”

Me: “You have to give me your name; otherwise, I can’t do anything.”

Patient: “I’m not giving you my name! Just call in a prescription for [medication] and have it ready!”

Me: “No name, no prescription, sir. We legally cannot give out pills without a name and an account to attach it to.”

Patient: “I don’t care what you have to do; just make it happen. My dad is dead!“

The patient huffs loudly, and then I hear a male voice in the background saying, “Shut UP!”

I’m starting to get suspicious.

Me: “Hey! This story sounds familiar… Are you [Patient]? Because if you are, you must have more than one dad because you called with this same story about six months ago! And two more times before that! How many dads do you have? And if you are [Patient], there’s no way I’m calling it in early for you.”

Patient: “F*** YOU, B****!” *Click*

I just laughed and went back to charting. Sometimes you get those people who want extra meds but only have one go-to scam. Too bad he wouldn’t give me his name, or I could have added a note to his chart about having his fourth dad die.