I was taking my garbage down to the curb one morning when my elderly neighbor came outside, waving her arms in the air. 

Neighbor: “Hellooooo! Can you take mine, too?”

She pointed to her overfilled trash can.

Me: “I can do that, [Neighbor].”

Neighbor: “Good. I used to have the Mexican boy across the street do my housework, but now my Sunday papers are missing!”

Me: “It doesn’t sound like those things are related, [Neighbor], and [Boy] is Puerto Rican.”

Neighbor: *Waving me off* “Same thing.”

Me: “No, they’re not, and if you called him Mexican to his face, I’m not surprised he doesn’t help you anymore.”

Neighbor: “Oh, you’re too sensitive; your whole generation is soft. He probably came over here strapped to his mama’s back while she swam the— What are you doing?”

Me: “Bringing your trash can back up. If you’re going to act like that, I won’t be helping you, either.”

Neighbor: “But it’s heavy! I’m elderly! Didn’t your parents teach you to respect your elders and provide for them?”

Me: “Being 110 years old is not an excuse to be an a**hole.”

Neighbor: “I’m eighty-two!”

Me: *Waving her off* “Same thing.”

I went back inside, leaving her trash can exactly where I got it from. She kept calling after me as I walked away, but I did not turn back to help her again.

I’m working part-time as a cashier on the express lane — twelve items or less. Since it’s a weeknight, most of the customers have larger orders, so there are only a couple of people in the express line. As I am checking a customer out, I notice a man at the end of the belt starting to unload a nearly full cart of items.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, this is the express lane.” 

You would think I had cast aspersions on his parentage. He’s furious! Fortunately, the night manager is nearby and offers to check him out at another register (so he doesn’t have to wait in line).

Customer: *Snarling and pointing at me* “Not until she apologizes!”

Me: “Sir, I am sorry that you can’t count to twelve.” 

Got a write-up. Worth it.

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Neglect (Happy Ending)

I’m the author who submitted this story.

We had a family dinner for my dad’s birthday, and he told me another one from when he was stationed in Maryland in the 1970s before he met my mother.

Dad liked to live off base, and one of his civilian neighbors had a German shepherd. This jerk would keep the dog leashed outside in rain, sun, and snow. He never brought it in or gave it any kind of shelter. Since it was the 1970s, there weren’t any laws to smack him with.

When the jerk was absent or asleep, Dad took to sneaking over and letting the dog loose so it could seek shelter for itself. Danger from the elements or danger from running loose — the poor dog was in a catch-22

Of course, the jerk would go find the dog, or it would come back on its own.

Then, one day, it didn’t come back. And didn’t come back. And the jerk couldn’t find it.

About a week after the jerk gave up, Dad had to go to the motor pool on the Army base to sign out a truck. There was the dog, happily snoozing away by the heater.

Dad never told the neighbor what happened to the dog.

Related:
Some People Shouldn’t Own Dogs, Period
Pretty Sure Show Dogs Are Also Judged On Behavior

When I was in college, I went on a date with a guy that didn’t go well. I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing him again, deleted his number, and moved on.

About six months later, I got a random text.

Bad Date: “Hey! How’s it going?”

Me: “Fine, but uh, who is this?”

Bad Date: “Oh, haha, it’s [Bad Date].”

Admittedly, I should have just stopped responding, but I was bored at work (I worked at an arcade in a mall and it was a dead time), and part of me was curious about what made him start texting me again out of the blue.

Me: “Oh. Uh, how are you?”

Bad Date: “Good. Listen, I’m wondering if I can ask you a favor?”

Me: “Um, no.”

Bad Date: “So, the thing is, my mom’s in the hospital, and my truck’s out of gas. And they’re saying they don’t think she’ll make it through the night, so I really want to go to see her.”

Me: “I’m sorry, that’s really unfortunate, but no. I’m at work. Can you take a cab?”

Bad Date: “Oh, I have no money. Come on. Can’t you help me out?”

Me: “I’m at work, so no. What about your cousin? Or a neighbor?”

Bad Date: “Cousin’s out of town and none of my neighbors are available. Please help me out?”

Me: “I didn’t even drive tonight, so no. And also, I’m at work.”

Bad Date: “Well, what if I get a ride to you? Can you give me a ride to the hospital then?”

Me: “Still no because I’m still at work. If you can get to me, then you should be able to get to the hospital.”

Bad Date: “Well, I was going to walk to you.”

Me: “Then walk to the hospital. I’m at work.”

Bad Date: “Oh, come on. I really want to see my mom. Can’t you help me out?”

I did stop responding then because I had a customer come up and need assistance. I also blocked his number as soon as I had a second.

Ten years later, I’m pretty sure he had other plans in mind, but why he’d use a sick mom to get me to him, I’ll never understand. Plus, with the way he was shooting down all my other options, he had to realize that I wouldn’t believe him, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

I did have a little laugh a few months later when he walked in with his cousin and a few friends. He saw me and immediately left the arcade. I pretended I hadn’t seen him because I was actually busy at the time, but I really wanted to ask him how his mom was.

We were working for a big soda brand that was opening a branded beach party place. Part of the project involved making an illustrated map of the area. The client was happy with it, except for one detail.

Client: “Can you change the color of the water from blue? It’s the color of Pepsi.”

Me: “What colour would you prefer?”

Client: “How about green?”

Me: “We used that for the land.”

Client: “Makes sense. Red?”

Me: “Red water?”

Client: “Yeah.”

Me: “Well… okay, but that’s also a colour associated with Coca-Cola.”

Client: “D***. What colour do most people associate with water?”

Me: “Uh… blue, usually.”