I used to manage a pizza chain. Every Friday night, this lady would call and claim that her pizzas had been an hour late and demand a free pizza. The last time she did it, she caught me on the day when my girlfriend had broken up with me out of the blue.

I was already pissed off and hurt, so when the order girl up front yelled back that it was the scammer again, I grinned and said to put her on hold. I got this.

Scammer: “Is this the manager? My pizza—”

Using the caller ID, I pulled up her name, address, and order history and then interrupted her.

Me: “Yes, this is the manager — the same manager you call every Friday at 7:00 pm to complain and get a free pizza. Well, that’s not happening. Your name has now been changed to ‘SCAMMER’. You are no longer allowed to shop with us. The phone number for [Other Pizza Chain] one block from you is [phone number]. I’m sure they will gladly take your call.”

Then, I hung up.

Not two minutes later, I heard my order girl gasp and start crying, so I went out and took the phone from her. It was the scammer, and she was SCREAMING obscenities at this poor girl. So, I hung up and waited for the inevitable callback.

Sure enough, two minutes later, she called back, and I answered the phone. She started screaming that she wanted the manager. I said I was the manager. She cursed at me and I hung up again.

She called AGAIN, and I answered, leading with:

Me: “This is the manager speaking. Curse at me again, and you will hear dial tone again. How can I help you?”

She started berating me for my horrible employees and my horrible attitude.

Scammer: “I’m going to get you fired! My brother is the district manager! But it can all go away if you just deliver my pizza!”

Me: “Tell [District Manager] that [My Name] at [Location] said you’re a b**** and will never be served by us again!”

Oh, boy, did she get mad. Among other things, she said:

Scammer: “My husband is going to kick your a**!”

Me: “You’re in luck: you know where I am, and I’m the only guy on tonight, so it won’t be hard to find me.”

Roughly twenty minutes later, a man and woman came in. The woman was livid, and the man was pacing the lobby, all jacked up on adrenaline, ready to fight.

I was sitting behind the counter, and I smiled really big.

Me: “How can I help you?”

Scammer: “ARE YOU THE MANAGER?!”

Me: “Why, yes, ma’am. I am.”

Scammer: “[Husband], you’d better kick this motherf*****’s a**!”

Her husband came marching around the counter.

At that point, I got up — all 6’5″, 245 pounds of me — and looked straight down at this five-foot-nothing guy. He immediately turned around, went back to his wife, and started yelling at her.

Husband: “You said I had to beat down some dude! You ain’t say s*** about beating down a g**d***ed SASQUATCH! WE ARE LEAVING!”

That was the last I ever saw or heard of that woman. It was a great night.

Via the cameras, I spot a customer taking a pair of sunglasses and sneaking them into their handbag. I wait at the checkouts to give them the benefit of the doubt, but sadly, they walk straight through without paying.

Me: “Ma’am, can I see what you have in your bag, please?”

Customer: “I have social anxiety!”

Me: “I understand. I just need to quickly look in your bag.”

Customer: “No! Your behavior is very triggering for me right now! You’re bringing up a lot of trauma!”

Me: “That’s not my intention, ma’am. I just need to quickly look in your bag.” 

Customer: “Why are you targeting me? Is it because I’m neurodivergent? Oh, my God, are you being ableist right now? So sad. You should do better.”

Me: “Ma’am, I am not trying to do anything else — literally anything else — other than look in your bag.” 

Customer: “Don’t call me ‘ma’am’! I’m non-binary! That’s offensive! Your language is very triggering!”

Me: “I apologize. But I still need to check your bag.” 

Customer: “But why?”

Me: “To be perfectly honest, because our camera caught you putting a pair of unpaid-for sunglasses into your bag, and I need to confiscate them.”

Customer: “Oh, my God! You were watching me?! Are you a creep? Is [Store] run by perverts?!”

Me: “Ma’am, please, just—”

Customer: “I’m non-binary!“

Me: “…Please just return the sunglasses. You’re lucky I am not calling the police and that I am simply asking for them back. Give them back, and we can both just walk away from this conversation.”

Customer: “You want to call the police?! You want them to shoot me?! I’m one-sixteenth Native, and they shoot people like me! Why are you being so racist?!”

Me: “Okay, I am done with you.” 

I motioned the security guys over, who kept them cornered until the police arrived. The police managed to get them to take the stolen sunglasses out of their bag — after the same run-around of social anxiety, trauma, ableism accusations, misgendering accusations, pervert accusations, and finally, racism accusations, in the exact same order. And then, the police escorted them out, not because they had stolen from us, but because we could all smell the alcohol on them and they had driven here.

Due to assorted events I won’t bore you with, I inherited a stray puppy. I knew he wasn’t lost and didn’t have an owner looking for him. I was the only one of my immediate friends willing to put in the effort to see he was cared for. He was a rambunctious pup, getting into all the standard sort of trouble you would expect of a puppy, but he got along great with my cats and seemed like he would make a great pet for someone.

Unfortunately, I personally have never been a dog person; dogs are too much of a commitment to care for, and I just like cats more as pets.

My original plan was to take him to the local pound and let them find him a home, but when I called them on the phone, they sounded less than confident that they could rehome him. I couldn’t understand why; he was the perfect adoptable age and seemed like he would be snatched up immediately. Still, I didn’t want to risk them putting him down, so I decided to make my own good-faith effort to find him a home first. I put out a few ads online and almost immediately had a couple with a young girl show up at my house.

The girl simply adored the puppy, chasing him around and playing with him as I spoke to the parents. Unfortunately, the parents I was not as certain about. It seems the girl had declared that she wanted a puppy a day before, so they were here to pick one up without any more thought. 

Me: “I don’t know his medical history; you will need to take him to a vet to get looked at and his shots.”

Woman: “How much would that cost?”

Me: “I’m not really sure. A few hundred maybe?”

Man: “You said he was free!”

Me: “He is, I’m not charging anything for him myself. But I did say that his medical record was unknown; he still needs all the stuff any new puppy requires.”

Man: “Why didn’t you do all that already?”

Me: “I’ve had him for less than a week and was hoping to adopt him out quickly. To be frank, I’ve had neither the time nor the desire to spend that much on a puppy I don’t intend to keep. If I had trouble finding him a home, I might have done it, but there are already a few who seem interested in him, so it didn’t seem necessary.”

Woman: “If we keep him inside, he probably doesn’t need shots anyway…”

There was a little more back and forth here, but the net result was the distinct impression that they were saying they would take him to a vet to appease me but had no intention of doing so. They also seemed taken aback that he wasn’t fully house-trained yet, and I was a little worried that they didn’t know what to do about training him.

The mom seemed to have reservations about it, but the dad plowed right thought them, and neither seemed to have given any thought to the actual effort of owning a dog.

I’m not an expert at rehoming animals, but my instincts told me this wouldn’t work out. I probably should have said as much to the parents immediately. However, their daughter clearly adored the pup; I’ve always had a hard time saying no to cute kids, and I didn’t want to make her cry.

Me: *To little girl* “He really seems to like you.”

Girl: “Yeah! Can we take him home?”

Me: “Well, I’d like to give him to you, but dogs need a lot of stuff to take care of them, like a collar and leash, bowls and food, maybe a bed, and a few toys. He wouldn’t be happy without them.”

The girl had already told me they didn’t have a yard since they lived in “a big house with lots of houses in it” so, at the very least, I knew they would need a collar and leash to walk him properly.

Man: “Don’t you have all that stuff?”

Me: “No, I haven’t had him for long. I have a small bag of dog food I could send with you, but other than that I’ve made do with a fenced-in yard and reusing the cats’ stuff for him since I was hoping to rehome him quickly.”

Girl: “You mean we can’t have him?”

Me: “Well, I’ll make you a deal. I can hold him for a few more days while your parents buy him everything he needs and make an appointment with a vet to make sure he is healthy. Then, if you bring me a photo of everything you got for him and proof of the vet visit to show you’re ready for him, you could take him then.”

Girl: “Okay!”

Man: “Why can’t we take him now?”

Woman: *At the same time* “Why a vet visit?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t give him to you until I know he has everything and I have proof that a vet visit is planned.”

Woman: “That costs too much!”

Man: “You said he was free! We can just take him now like you said!”

Me: “I said he was free to a good home. I’m sorry, but that means a home willing to pay to care for him.”

Man: “You promised our girl a dog. You didn’t say any of this other junk. We want the dog!”

Me: “The ‘other junk’ is supposed to be presumed when you get a pet. I can’t give him to you unless I know he will be cared for.”

Girl: “It’s okay, Dad. We can get him tomorrow.”

Man: “No, we’re not waiting or wasting money on a vet.”

Me: “Sir, your daughter is watching. Is this the behavior you want to model to her?”

Man: “Give me that d*** dog!”

Me: *Bending down to the daughter* “You are great with the puppy, and I think he would love you. But I’m really, really, sorry; I can’t let your parents have him when they say they won’t take care of him.”

Girl: “We can’t have him?”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but no. He needs parents that will love him.”

Woman: “How could you do that to her?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry ,but it’s the two of you who are doing it by not being willing to care for her pet.”

Man: “F*** that. We’ll just take him now.”

Me: “I have your names, your phone number, and your car’s license plate on video — the same video that would record you leaving with a dog I didn’t give you. If you try to take him, the cops will be at your door in an hour.”

Girl: *Now crying* “But he likes me!”

Me: “I’m so sorry. Maybe once your parents are ready to care for a pet, you can get one.”

Woman: “What if we came back with a picture of a leash and all?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but at this point, I’m not confident that he would get the medical care he needs. The answer is no.”

There were some more angry words from the parents, and I personally felt terrible watching the cute girl clinging to her mom trying to hold back tears. I really wanted her to have the puppy, but I couldn’t do it if the parents didn’t plan to care for him. 

Eventually, they left.

Two days later, a slightly older married couple showed up. They already had two dogs, knew exactly what it took to care for them, and had even brought their dogs to meet the pup to make sure they all got along first. They took the puppy home instead.

I’m not sure if I should hope the little girl got a pet eventually or pray that no canine was forced into her parents’ home.

I work on the small regional planes no one really likes to be on. They’re small, we get it, but the seats really aren’t much smaller than mainline ones, if at all. Plus, we don’t have middle seats, just window and aisle.

I’m working a full flight from Houston to somewhere in the Midwest, both places where it’s common to have large people (not just wide, but tall). This fairly large guy gets on while we’re about halfway through with boarding and realizes the guy he has to sit next to is also fairly large. They are about the same size, if I’m being honest.

Before he takes his seat, he storms back up to me.

Passenger: “Give me one of the empty seats in the back!”

Me: “Sir, it’s going to be a full flight, but if there are any empty rows, I’ll come and get you.”

Passenger: *Loudly, trying to make a scene* “But the guy next to me is too big! He’s spilling into my seat!”

I checked it out, and it wasn’t even that bad; the guy fit just fine. Boarding started to slow, and with every passenger trickling in, he looked back seeing if he could go. I had to tell this guy at least five times to wait.

Sure enough, we were full. I did my count and told the guy he had to stay there in his original seat. He gave a big sigh and started grumbling about how ridiculous it was. He proceeded to cross his legs and lean as far into the aisle as possible, literally an inch from the seat across from him, so anytime anyone had to pass him, they had to say, “Excuse me,” and he’d make a big huff about leaving a couple of inches so they still had to squeeze by.

My job requires me to make that walk many times a flight, including a couple of times with a large, heavy cart. I knew what he was doing, so I made sure I pushed my side of the cart as close to him as possible.

After having to say, “Excuse me,” five times and him making a scene, embarrassing the guy next to him, I stopped saying it and just walked into him every time.

Things calmed down, but he still wouldn’t sit right in his seat; he wanted to make a point.

So, I only did the trash runs when it looked like he was about to fall asleep.

I can be an a**hole, too.

I’m in something called 4-H. We basically raise and show animals as well as educate people about them. In my county, the biggest part of 4-H is the fair every year, where we all take our animals and do shows with them and leave them there for a week so people can see them. We are still obligated to take care of them and watch over them, so most of us spend every day after school at the fair taking care of our animals. 

I’m an executive at the fair, part of the county council which is in charge of all 4-H in the county, as well as the executive board which is in charge of it for the state. I’m the longest-serving small animal shower, and around the small animal area, I’m the one in charge.

Everyone is wearing masks (because it’s 2021), and this is making it extra tiring while working out here. The small animals are kept in two rows off to the side with a rope around them, cutting them off from the outside world.

People are allowed to look at them while they stroll through the barn, but only exhibitors like me are allowed behind the rope. Exhibitors identify themselves by wearing 4-H shirts as well as lanyards, and I even have a 4-H mask for good measure.

I walk into the animal area to check on my bunnies, and I see a large group of people, mostly older people, behind the rope, walking around the animal cages, talking, and pointing at the rabbits and chickens. None are wearing 4-H shirts, nor do they have lanyards. As the person in charge of the small animals, it’s my job to deal with this.

Me: “Excuse me. Are you exhibitors?”

Visitor: “No, we are just looking at the cute animals.”

Me: “I’m sorry to say that only exhibitors are allowed back here; I’m going to have to ask you to step back out.”

Visitor: “Oh, no, don’t worry. We know one of the exhibitors, and they let us back here.”

There is no exhibitor with them, and even if there was, due to current restrictions, they’re still not allowed to invite others back with the animals.

Me: “I’m sorry, but even, so if you are not an exhibitor or owner yourself, you cannot be back here. Please leave. You can observe the animals from outside.”

Visitor: “But they said it was okay for us to come in; they own some of the animals!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that is not their decision to make. Please leave this area.” 

They eventually leave, and I think it is over. Then, their entitled exhibitor and her parents came running up to me. 

Entitled Exhibitor: “Hey, those people were our guests. They are allowed to be in there; I let them!”

Me: “You know that’s not allowed; we have regulations.”

Entitled Exhibitor: “I said it was fine!”

Me: “Well, I didn’t! We can’t risk anyone getting sick, so only exhibitors are allowed back there! If you have a problem, take your animal and leave!”

And she did! I’m not compromising on safety because you said it was “okay”!