Cracking Up From Their Crackers

, , , , , , | Legal | November 18, 2018

Years ago, I was the receptionist in my hometown’s only brothel. It had been there in the same place, a minute’s drive from the local police station, since the 60s. Everyone knew what it was. The entrance was a set of stairs leading up from a street.

A TV is set up, playing a feed from cameras showing the street and the stairs leading to a door that either the bouncer or myself have to open.

One slow night, I’m doing paperwork while talking to one of the girls, when I see a brand-new car stop outside. The next thing I see is something being lit, and then a firecracker gets thrown out the passenger door and up the stairwell. I instantly hit the emergency button that goes to the police station while the bouncer comes running. I tell the bouncer to just watch.

The passenger lights another firecracker when a cop car pulls up behind them with lights and sirens going, causing the passenger to drop the lit cracker inside the car. We watch on the cameras as the cracker bounces around inside the car, tearing up the interior, before two boys escape the car straight into the arms of two laughing cops.

It turns out the 17-year-old driver had taken his mum’s brand-new, $40,000 car she’d had for two days for a joy ride while she was asleep. The car is a write-off and both boys end up with second-degree burns and criminal records.

It certainly made a boring night more entertaining.

Should Have Waved A Warning Flag

, , , , , | Right | November 18, 2018

(I am in law enforcement and my coworkers and I, all in uniform, stop by the convenience store before heading to our location for the day. I am driving the van and am waiting to make a left turn into the parking lot from the street. A pickup truck backs up a little bit, making room for me to enter the lot. Both my coworker and I wave in gratitude towards the driver. We park and enter the store. Two minutes later, a man enters the store.)

Man: “Excuse me, are you driving the white van out there?”

Me: *concerned someone had hit it or was breaking in* “Yes, sir, is something wrong?”

Man: “I let you pull in and you didn’t even acknowledge me!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I did wave to—”

Man: “I am a veteran, I’ll have you know!”

Me: “Sir, I did wave thank—”

Man: “I don’t care if you’re with [Agency]! You are not above the law!! You are not above the law!”

(He then stormed out. My only guess is that he was looking in his rear-view mirror when my coworker and I waved thanks. Even if I hadn’t waved, not acknowledging someone for doing something polite is not illegal.)

Trying To Lift Yourself Above The Customer Complaints

, , , , , | Right | November 18, 2018

(I am working the bar for a ‘Family and Friends of RAAF Veterans’ function where the family and friends of Air Force veterans are invited to a free lunch, with free drinks, paid for by taxpayer money. Most aren’t veterans themselves, and the veterans are generally very lovely, but those who aren’t veterans — who are receiving free food and drinks — are always needy, greedy and demanding. I spot a man wandering around in the lounge area outside of the function room, obviously looking for something. I approach and ask if he needs help:)

Me: “Hi there, sir. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Guest: “I need a lift!”

(We have a chauffeur car for patrons who wish to be picked up and dropped off from the club.)

Me: “Are you after the chauffeur car, sir?”

Guest: “NO! I need to find a lift!”

Me: “Ah, a lift. We—”

Guest: “Yes! A lift! Where’s the lift?!”

Me: “As I was saying, we have several lifts in the club due to having many different areas and split levels. May I ask which part of the club you need to head to?”

Guest: “I’m heading to the lift! I need the lift! This woman is sick and she needs the lift to go home!”

Me: “Ah. Well if someone is driving her we can bring the car around to this entrance–” *gestures to his left* “–so she doesn’t need to walk so far.”

Guest: “I’ll do that. Where’s the lift?”

Me: “Where did you park your car? We have several car parks and a couple of different lifts lead to different car parks.”

Guest: “I parked it out back.”

Me: “So, you parked in the car park here?” *gestures to rear car park* “If that’s the case, you just need to head out the doors here.”

Guest: “No! I said I parked out back! In the big car park!”

Me: “Oh, you parked out front? Did you come in through the big reception with the escalators? That’s the front.”

Guest: “Yes! And we came through a lift! Where’s the lift?!”

Me: “Okay, now I get it. Follow me, sir; it’s just around here. See the signs that say ‘Reception’?”

Guest: “Thanks. Finally. You know you could explain yourself better.”

(As I’m directing the gentleman, a woman,whose husband was one of the dead veterans displayed in a memorial presentation at the lunch, walks up to me:)

Woman: “This lunch was disgusting. I’m never coming back here again.”

Me: “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. What seems to be the problem?”

Woman: “I didn’t get the food I wanted.”

Me: “Well, at our events, like all large events I’ve ever been to, they place the meals in a rotation. You got the beef, but the people either side of you got the turkey, and the next person got beef and so on. You could have swapped with the person either side of you, or at another place on the table.”

Woman: “But I wanted turkey. You should have made sure I was getting turkey.”

Me: “Well, I was pouring drinks at the time. But you could have swapped with anyone at your table.”

Woman: “My husband died in the war, and you can’t even get my meal right.”

Guest: *who had been impatiently listening and huffing* “Your husband died in the war and all you can complain about is your FREE lunch being paid for by HIS—” *points to me* “—taxes. F*** off… and take me to the car for f***’s sake!”

Not Doing A B.A.M. Up Job

, , , , , , | Working | November 18, 2018

(I work at a franchise location of a national restaurant chain. After a looong renovation, it has finally reopened as a flagship store for the entire company. Because of this, our owner, district manager, marketing rep, etc. have been there every day during our busy period to help and to work out the kinks. Unfortunately, many of our old staff found other jobs during the six months we were closed, so most of our staff is new, and some are less than stellar employees. One morning, a newer employee calls to say he is going to be late, over two hours after his shift starts. He speaks to a manager with a common name, let’s say Dan. He keeps cutting Dan off and finally hangs up. He calls back a few minutes later, and our district manager — basically the highest authority other than the owners — answers. Our district manager is also named Dan.)

District Manager: “Thank you for calling [Store]; this is Dan.”

(Pause.)

District Manager: “Yes, this is Dan. What’s up, [Employee]?”

(Pause.)

District Manager: “No, you didn’t speak to me earlier… No, you really didn’t… No, I’m not messing with you,[Employee]; you didn’t talk to me… Yes, this is Dan, but I think I’d know if I’d spoken to you in the last ten minutes… You didn’t talk to me, man…”

(Pause.)

District Manager: *perfectly calm* “I’m sorry, but there’s no one here named B****-A**-Motherf***er.” *hangs up*

(The district manager walks over to the other Dan, still completely calm, and says in a conversational tone of voice:)

District Manager: “[Employee] no longer works here.”

I’m Calling The Police: No Joke

, , , , , , | Legal Right | November 18, 2018

(I am serving late on a Monday night when who I assume is the friend of the man I am currently serving comes up by the counter and stares me dead in the eyes and without emotion.)

Customer’s Friend: “This is an armed robbery.”

Me: *stunned and internally panicking since this has never happened before*

Customer’s Friend: *long silence*

Me: *still stunned*

Customer’s Friend: “Ha! It’s a joke!”

(Who the h*** thinks that’s a joke is beyond me. I don’t want to be in retail anymore.)

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