A friend of mine needs a ride to her hometown to pick up some papers from the county courthouse she needs for her ongoing divorce. I take her up there and we get the papers. She wants to leave them at her parents’ house a few blocks from the courthouse for safe-keeping. This is a small town with narrow streets, and halfway there, I come to a two-way stop sign where I encounter a problem.

The house on the corner to my immediate left is some kind of business, and they have a HUGE advertisement sign in the yard on the corner so it can be seen by anyone on that section of road. But it creates the BIGGEST blind spot I’ve personally ever encountered. I cannot see oncoming traffic from my left at ALL. I try to lean forward, but it’s no good. My friend leans as far forward as she can.

Friend: “I can’t see anything. I think it’s fine; you should be able to go.”

The very next thing I remember is white smoke and the smell of oil smoke. I’m finding it a little hard to breathe as something is tight across my chest, and my friend is shaking me and shouting my name. I’m suddenly facing the way I came from and my head is throbbing.

It turns out that when I tried to go, an SUV slammed into my driver’s side door with enough force to turn my heavy car a complete 180, damaging the frame beyond repair. I can see kids on the corner on their phones, probably calling 911. The woman driving the SUV is beside herself with worry for me and her children who are shaken up, and is apologizing profusely.

The police arrive quickly and I’m given some kind of paperwork to fill out. My friend has to point things out and explain them to me because I’m so loopy from the wreck that I’m having a hard time reading and writing. I’ve not left the vehicle yet.

The only clear thing in my head is the story of a horrible wreck my mother was in when I was a child, and her telling me about how she’d been in shock and was able to walk up a steep incline with EMT while both of her legs were broken. I can understand that I’m in shock, so I decide to use it productively and fill out the paperwork while I’m still somewhat lucid.

Then, the tow truck driver arrives on the scene and begins to slam his hand on my window, frantically.

Driver: “MISS! MISS! Oh, my God, you’re okay! Can you move?! Do you need me to cut you out?!”

I hold up the paperwork.

Me: “I need to fill this out.”

Yeah, that is my biggest concern right now. I’m removed from the car, very dizzy, and my friend asks for us to be taken back to the courthouse because her mother is the county clerk. I exchange numbers and information with the lady who hit me and tell her to let me know if her kids are okay later. I call for my mother to come to get me once we get there to take me to the doctor.

They tell me I have a bad concussion and some internal injuries. I’m sent home after being patched up and am told to have someone keep an eye on me for a couple of days. As I’m being driven back to my house, I get a text message.

Driver: “Hey, is this [My Name]?”

Me: “Yeah. You must be [Driver]. Are your kids okay?”

Driver: “Yes. We just left the hospital, and we’re all okay. Are you okay?”

Me: “I have a concussion and a lot of bruising. I should be good later.”

Driver: “That’s good. I’m so sorry for what happened.”

And that is the end of it, I think, beyond maybe some insurance agent. The next morning, I’m woken up by my phone ringing, and it’s [Driver]’s number.

Me: “[Driver]? Hello?”

Man: “Is this the b**** that hit my girlfriend’s SUV?!”

Me: “What? Who are you?”

Man: “My kids are in ICU because of you, you b****! I’m going to f****** sue you for everything you’ve got!”

My concussion has completely stripped me of my verbal filter, so I just don’t have the capacity to try to diffuse the situation or calm him down.

Me: “Dude, I don’t know who the f*** you are, but I have text messages from [Driver] that I have screenshots of where she told me last night that she left the doctor with the kids, and that they were all okay.”

He hung up on me. When I finally got a copy of the report, [Driver] was faulted for the wreck. She admitted she had been breaking the speed limit, she’d had her eyes off the road to turn and yell at her kids for not sitting down, and none of her three children — all under seven — were in car seats or buckled up. 

And that business was forced to take their f****** sign down for good.

I work in banking for a number of years long before the introduction of automated tellers. One branch that I work at is robbed several times in the space of a year.

After one of these robberies, with numerous police cars parked out front and a sign advising that we are closed due to a robbery, one of our least-liked customers starts rattling the doors and screaming to get in.

Customer: “I have some urgent business to transact!”

This goes on for a good half-hour, despite her being told by the police that the branch is unlikely to reopen today.

She returns the following day a few minutes before we open and, again, starts pulling on locked doors and yelling for us to let her in.

When the branch opens, she storms into the manager’s office.

Customer: “Your service is atrocious. You don’t know who I am or you would treat me better!”

The manager, fed up with her antics, has me prepare a bank draft for the balance in her account, and then he gives it to her.

Manager: “Please never darken our doors again.”

I thought she was going to have a stroke on the spot. She called us every name in the book, threatened to have the entire branch fired, etc. Meanwhile, my manager hit the silent alarm button and, as we’d been robbed the previous day, the police showed up in record time.

She wouldn’t listen to the officers who responded, and she was taken out in handcuffs. No one got fired.

I’m taking my dog for walks in the linear park — a former railway line — behind my house. Although I’m middle-aged, I have arthritis, so I walk with a cane.

As I’m walking, I see three teenage boys on bicycles coming towards me. And then, I can suddenly tell they’ve seen me, too. The atmosphere changes.

I call my dog over to me, stop walking, and stand to one side of the path. They speed up on their bikes and I can now hear them using ableist slurs between them. I brace for trouble.

As they pass, one of the boys sticks his leg out, aiming to catch my cane with it and send me tumbling.

There is a flaw in his plan. My walking stick is light and thin… because it’s made of reinforced carbon fibre. And I have my full weight bearing down on it.

His foot hits my cane and suddenly he and his bike are going in different directions. His bike smashes into a tree whilst he crashes to the ground, into a big muddy puddle.

Big brave boy on his bike about to knock over a “cripple” is now muddy and wet, and his bike is damaged. So he bursts into tears.

I burst into laughter, and then my dog and I walked home. I think even my dog was laughing at him.

This story is part of our Bicycle roundup!

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We have just opened a new store. Most of the departments are set up except for one section which is basically being used to store stock that has not yet been put out. The area is mostly walled off with two entry points that have been cordoned off with piles of stock-filled cartons, no-entry signs, staff-only signs, and tape across any openings.

The owners want to get the store up and running as quickly as possible but know that this area will hold our most fragile glass and China items, so they want to keep both staff and customers safe while it is being set up.

I am working near the end of the display wall when I notice some of the piled cartons moving and about to topple on me. I quickly jump up to move the cartons back when I hear a squeal. I look around the cartons to see an old lady trying to squeeze herself between the cartons and the end of the wall. The gap is probably eight inches wide; she’s pulled off the tape.

Me: “I’m sorry, but you can’t come into this area; it’s for staff only.”

Woman: “I want to shop in here.”

She is still trying to push through.

Me: “This area is not open for shopping.”

Woman: “I told you to let me in! I am a customer who wants to shop.”

Me: “I can’t let you in because this area is not set up and is too hazardous to have customers in here.”

Woman: “What is that supposed to mean?”

Me: “It’s too dangerous, which is why it’s closed off. This area is not open yet.”

Woman: *Yelling* “HOW DARE YOU OPEN A STORE WHEN IT’S NOT COMPLETELY SET UP?!”

She stomped off.

Related:
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 42
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 41
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 40
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 39
Not Very Closed Minded, Part 38

I work for a vet and pet groomers. It is near the beginning of the global health crisis and a lot of non-essential businesses are shut down, such as hair salons. However, our veterinary practice is still open, and as a result, we are able to take bookings for basic cleaning for most domestic pets.

A middle-aged woman comes in with the look that you know she’s going to be trouble. She is wearing oversized sunglasses, she’s carrying an angry-looking Pomeranian in a designer bag, and she has THAT hairstyle.

Customer: “Your grooming salon is still open?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. We can do basic bathing and shampoo duties. For your little—”

Customer: “How much will you charge me?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I was about to say, for Toy Dog breeds, we charge—”

Customer: “No! Not the dog. Me. How much will you charge for me?”

Me: “I’m not sure I understand.”

She just stares at me for a moment, and even though her sunglasses are obscuring her eyes, I know she is looking me up and down. Then, she puts her bag down and bends over slightly, showing me her scalp.

Customer: “My roots are beginning to show. I need you to put my color back in.”

Me: “You want me to redo your highlights?”

Customer: “Yes! Finally, you understand. How much? Can we do it now? I’m on a schedule.”

Me: “Ma’am, I can bathe and shampoo your dog, and your dog only! I can’t do humans, and I certainly can’t do coloring! We don’t even do that to the dogs!”

Customer: “But the salons have been closed for weeks! I’m desperate! I can’t go out in public like this!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. You’ll just have to manage on your own for a while.”

Customer: “Not even a shampoo or conditioning?”

Me: “No, ma’am. Dogs only.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous!”

She tuts, takes the dog out of her bag, and begins to stomp off.

Me: “Ma’am! Your Pomeranian!”

Customer: “Oh, that thing isn’t mine; I just used it to get in here. I found it tied to the post outside the store across the street.”

And with that, she was gone. In a moment of shock, I locked eyes with the little fluff ball, who was just sitting there staring at me nonchalantly. Then, I realized that its leash seemed to have been cut off from the end, almost as if an entitled woman had cut it from a post with a pair of scissors…

Thankfully, I was able to make a mad dash to the convenience store across the street and inform a panicking woman who had lost her little dog that I was about to make her day.

This story is part of our Best Of December 2020 roundup!

Read the next Best Of December 2020 roundup story!

Read the Best Of December 2020 roundup!