I sell hand-made jewelry. Because they are meant for daily use, I pride myself on making them very sturdy. I sell my wares online or at conventions

At one of those conventions, a teen girl just runs to my table.

Girl: “Oh, my gosh, look at this! Look, it’s so beautiful!”

She picks it up… but accidentally drops it.

Girl: “Oh, no! Oh, no! I broke it! I broke it!”

She is on the verge of tears, panicking and going back and forth. Since the floor at the convention center is carpet, I wonder how the heck she managed to break it.

Me: “Calm down. Just let me see it.”

Girl: “I’m so sorry! I’m sooooo sorry! How much did it cost? Oh, no, I have no money left! What do I do?!”

Me: *Trying to smile reassuringly* “Just show it to me; I’ll see if it’s easy to fix.”

She hands over the jewelry.

Me: “Oh, it looks fine. Nothing broke.”

Girl: “Yes, it did! Look, the ring is all bent and open, and I broke it!”

Me: “This thing?”

The girl nods and I can’t help but laugh.

Me: “Don’t worry! It’s supposed to be a hook! It was never a ring!”

Girl: *Tearing up* “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Me: “Absolutely not. Nothing broke. So calm down and don’t worry. My stuff is kind of hard to break.”

Girl: *Sniffing* “Really?”

Me: “Yes, but don’t see it as a challenge!” *With a very obvious wink* “I’ll put it back on the table for you.”

Suddenly, a woman joins the table.

Woman: “May I please see it?”

Me: “Sure!”

Woman: “Wow, this is beautiful. And it even survived a fall! How much is it?”

She bought the item. Thank you, teen girl! Thanks to your enthusiasm, I made a sale!

My grandma was eighty-nine at the time of this story, and she had been an independent woman for over twenty-five years since my granddad passed. Slowly, she began to get older, and naturally, her abilities started to decline. She became hard of hearing (deaf in the end), she was unable to drive herself, she started to have issues with walking (she was an avid hiker before), and other small stuff started to go due to arthritis in her hands.

At some point, she got glaucoma and had to use special eye drops. My dad and my aunts (with good intentions) started to fuss about her capabilities to care for herself. Yes, she needed help with things, but they took almost everything out of her hands, including things she was perfectly capable of doing herself.

My grandma confided in me that even though she was old, she loved being able to still do things for herself if she was capable, and she was sad that people were treating her like she was incapable all of a sudden.

She needed to get surgery for her glaucoma, and leading up to it, my aunts were making plans for who would take care of her after surgery, and whose house she would stay at because she couldn’t stay at her own house by herself.

The main issue was the eyedrops she had to take after the surgery; due to the arthritis, it was difficult for her. Sometime before the surgery, we had gotten her a pair of special glasses to help apply eyedrops, and she claimed that they worked very well and she didn’t need any help. My aunts asked her to show us how she uses them, but she refused to show us — out of pride, I think — so that just convinced my aunts that she couldn’t be alone.

One evening, I went up to her.

Me: “Grandma, can you show me how your eyedrops glasses work? I’m having issues getting my own eyedrops in properly, and I wonder if they can help me.”

That was total BS; I don’t even use eyedrops. She just LIT up and showed me right away because she wanted to help me so badly!

Well, the glasses sort of worked for her but not well enough that she could be left to do it herself after surgery. However, she had told me how much she wanted to just go home when it was done and how she really wanted to stay independent. So, I lied to my aunts and told them that the glasses worked really well and she really didn’t need any help, and I made a deal with them that I would go to her place to look after her for the first few days after surgery. (They both live quite far away, so it was easier for me.)

At the same time, I told my grandma that for work I had to go to a different office location for a few days for a project, so I would sleep at her house because it was closer. That way, I could look after her, and she still felt like she was self-sufficient. The added bonus was that she felt so happy that she could help me by hosting me at her house for a couple of days! (I did arrive a few days early and left a few days after so the dates of my “work visit” didn’t exactly match with her surgery.)

The look on her face when I asked her to help me with the glasses and when I asked to sleep over was priceless! And the idea that I gave her some of her independence (however small) really makes me happy.

I do think she realised at some point at least that I was playing a trick on her, but she was just grateful that I wasn’t treating her like a porcelain doll like the rest of my family. And during my stay there, I just let her do her own thing and arrange her own stuff. I only stepped in twice when she really couldn’t handle it.

I’m walking my dog in the park in the early evening, and I almost literally trip over a guy who has collapsed on the path in front of us. He briefly wakes and then passes out again. That’s when I call an ambulance on my mobile phone.

I’m with the man for forty minutes during which time several other people arrive. (My dog goes off to round up the ducks by the pond; she’ll be fine, as will the ducks.)

Some people go to the three entrances to the park to flag the ambulance when it appears. Several turn around and walk away. Two separate people actually step over the guy in order to get past, without commenting at all.

When the paramedic arrives, I start explaining what happened.

Me: “I found him here about forty minutes ago. He’s mostly been—”

At that point, a woman appears out of nowhere.

Woman: “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

Paramedic: “Are you related to the patient?”

Woman: “No, I saw the lights from my house over there. What’s happening?”

Paramedic: “Can you wait for a moment? I need to talk to this man right now.” *Gestures to me*

Me: “For the past forty minutes, he’s mostly been unconscious, but he’s woken a couple of—”

Woman: “Can I do anything to help?”

Paramedic: “I need to speak to this man first, ma’am.”

Me: “When he wakes up, he’s belligerent and angry for a few—”

Woman: “I can help! Shall I go and get a blanket?”

Paramedic: “No. Be quiet while I talk to this gentleman.”

Woman: “I’m only trying to help! Why won’t you let me help?”

Me: “He’s belligerent and angry briefly, and then confused for a bit longer than that. After that—”

Woman: “You must let me help! This is important! I have to help!”

Paramedic: “You’re doing the opposite. Be quiet!”

Woman: “That’s it! I’m going to complain about you! Give me your name, now.”

Paramedic: “Go away. Sir, please continue.”

Me: “After that, he’s ‘normal’ for about a minute, and then he goes vague and—”

Woman: “YOUR NAME! I’M ONLY TRYING TO HELP AND YOU’RE DISRESPECTING ME! WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME?!”

Me: *Finally snapping* “Shut the h*** up, you stupid b****. This isn’t about you. You’re getting in the way of this man being helped. Shut the f*** up now.”

Woman: “I’LL BE TAKING YOUR NAME, TOO! I’ll complain to the council about you!”

Paramedic: *In a deadly serious voice* “Shut. Up.”

Me: *Still angry* “Why don’t you just f*** off? Go on, f*** off!”

Woman: “I demand that—”

Me: “F*** off.”

Woman: “How dare—”

Me: “F*** off. Now.”

Woman: “I’ll call the police and—”

Paramedic: “Enough! Do as the nice gentleman says and f*** the h*** off immediately!”

Woman: “This is why nobody respects you scum with your—”

A passerby who went to one of the entrances appears out of nowhere, grabs her arm, and drags her away. She’s still shouting about how she was helping and how he’s assaulting her when she’s very important to what’s going on.

Paramedic: “Third time this month. What is it with people ‘helping’ us? Anyway, you were saying?”

I finished giving my observations to him, collected my dog from the pond edge, and went home. I’ve not seen the woman in the week since this happened, which is lucky, because I reckon she’d be the one needing an ambulance if I did.

It’s around 1992, and I work in a bank.

Client: “I need [amount around $5,000] in pennies.”

Me: “There will be a fee, as that would require a special order.”

We got it down to $1,000 in pennies and the rest in nickels and dimes. He paid $250 to get it.

A few weeks later, he came in with a Rubbermaid tub full of loose change, which he wanted to deposit.

Me: “You’ll have to roll the change and put your account number on each roll for us to accept it.”

It took him about a month to come back, and we charged him again as his account didn’t have an agreement to accept change; it was a commercial account.

We never did find out what the story was, but one of his employees said [Client] was the sort who would not pay bills until ordered and probably decided to pay someone in change.

While most car insurance claims are simply about people having accidents, every so often a criminal case turns up. We had a customer call us with a truly shocking story of how she had been just getting into her car when a couple of men grabbed her, bundled her into the boot of her car (trunk for Americans), and drove off. Thankfully they were stopped after a few miles, but it was quite traumatic.

The full account from the police was baffling. The two men were burglars, who were driving away from the scene of a successful crime. Only they were driving too fast, and passed a police car. The sight of the flashing blue lights made the men panic, and they tried to lose the police. They then came up with a plan – to ditch the car and carjack someone, holding the hostage in the boot. Their first victim was an elderly man, their second our customer.

The plan was about as successful as you might expect – not at all. And at the end of it they had just added two charges of carjacking and kidnapping to the original burglary charge, greatly increasing their prison time.