I’m in driver’s ed, and my instructor is severely addicted to cigarettes. The practical portion of the course consists of hour-long driving sessions with two students and the instructor, each student driving for a half-hour.

The instructor can’t make it the full hour without a cigarette. Since he’s not allowed to smoke in the company vehicle, he insists on taking a ten-minute break when switching drivers. He’ll have us pull into a fast food place to practice parking and then tell us to go buy a snack if we want while he smokes outside. All the students are happy with this arrangement because we get the chance to buy a milkshake, but it’s not technically allowed under company rules.

One thing that the instructor teaches us that isn’t in any of the course materials is that we always have to keep the driver’s window cracked open, no matter what. He claims that it’s for safety reasons, but we all suspect it’s because he always has a cigarette in his own car and doesn’t want to marinate in the smoke.

I have a driving session one day when the weather is bad, but not bad enough to cancel. It’s 45°F (7°C) and absolutely pouring, with the rain sometimes blowing sideways. I have just gotten into the backseat, with the other student in the driver’s seat. The instructor has her go through all the normal pre-driving stuff, and then this happens.

Instructor: “All right, the only thing you’ve forgotten is to crack open the window. Go ahead and do that now.”

Student: “But it’s raining!”

Instructor: “So? I told you, it’s dangerous to drive with all the windows closed.”

Student: “I’ve literally never heard that from anyone else, ever. Everyone I know drives with all the windows closed, unless it’s a nice day, maybe.”

Instructor: “Then they’re doing it wrong! See, if you have all the windows closed and your tailpipe gets blocked, exhaust will fill the car. I knew some boys who had that happen way back when. They backed too far into a parking spot, not realizing they had the tailpipe flush against the wall, and sat in the idling car for a while. And guess what? They all died!”

Student: “Um… I’m sorry to hear that, but that doesn’t seem likely to happen right now. We’re going to be driving, not idling.”

Instructor: “You have to get in the habit of being prepared! If those boys made sure to always have a window open, they’d still be alive today! Now put the window down!”

Student: “Could it at least be the one no one’s sitting next to?”

Instructor: “No, it has to be yours so you’re always aware it’s open.”

She certainly was aware it was open the whole time, since she got rained on almost constantly. And then, after we switched drivers, I went through the same thing. We were both pretty miserable by the time the lesson was over. 

Our parents weren’t exactly pleased to find their children soaking wet on one side only and shivering when they came to pick us up. On the way home, I ranted a bit to my mom about the window thing and blamed it all on the instructor’s cigarette addiction. I mentioned in passing the ten-minute cigarette break he was taking in the middle of every lesson, which my mom was very interested in.

At the next lesson, I found out that the instructor had been fired after both my mom and the other student’s mom called to complain about the breaks and him letting us get soaked and freezing because of his own weird belief that the company did not share. The new instructor was confused when several students opened the window a crack even though it was a cold day.

I am a manager at a combined grocery and restaurant location; it is very well known and popular in my part of the country.

This is well into a “shelter in place” and “essential business only” situation.

This lady pulls up through the drive-thru, driving past other customers, and pulls up to the window. A secondary manager and an employee greet her at the window. She speaks demandingly.

Customer: “Go get my items from the grocery section.”

Coworker: “I am sorry, ma’am, but it is company policy that the drive-thru is for restaurant food only.”

She throws a few F-bombs and calls them a few names out of the book.

Coworker: “Again, ma’am, drive-thru is for restaurant food only, and handicapped people only have the option of calling in an order.”

She drives around to the front of the store, parks in a handicapped spot, and starts to motion the cashier out to her. The cashier walks out, points out that she does not have a handicap placard or sticker, and walks back in. At this point, she has dropped multiple more F-bombs and called the employees multiple names.

I have been doing inventory and have not seen or heard any of this until after this is all over. I come walking onto the line as this lady comes into the store, screaming and dropping still more F-bombs.

She motions to a lady with three kids at the front register, and then to another lady with three kids ordering ice cream, finally spinning around, almost hitting them as she flails her arms around.

Customer: “This is f****** why I didn’t f****** want to f****** come in here!”

I walk over as she storms into the grocery section.

Me: “Ma’am, I need you to stop yelling and cursing; there are children around—”

She screams and curses some more, moaning about how she is a caregiver and shouldn’t have to step foot in our store. I give her a second warning about cursing and walk away. The next thing I know, she is screaming at me over the shelves from the next aisle over.

Customer: “I’m not causing a scene; it’s your f****** problem!”

She’s trying to stand in line at the cashier at this point, about four customers back from the register. I walk around the shelves to her and take the half-gallon of milk she has in her hand.

Me: “You need to leave.”

She grabs her ID badge on her lanyard and literally hits me in the face with it, screaming.

Customer: “Do you see this? That means I’m essential!”

I look down at the apron I am wearing. I grab it up and fluff it in her face.

Me: “You see this apron?! This means I’m essential, too! Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here!”

The guy standing in front of her laughs, and the customer at the checkout hollers out:

Other Customer: “Thank you; she needed to hear that!”

She dropped her shopping and left.

I am catching the bus home from work. An older gentleman and I are the only passengers on the bus, and we’re in the middle of the countryside. The old man gets up and speaks to the driver.

Driver: “I’m sorry, sir, but I am not allowed to speak to you while I am driving.”

The old man continues speaking quietly.

Driver: “It is against the law for me to speak to you while I am driving; there’s a £5000 fine. Besides, I am deaf in one ear, so I can’t drive and listen to you.”

Old Man: *Shouting* “I SAID, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO LET ME OFF THIS F****** BUS?! I WILL F****** WELL MAKE YOU TURN AROUND AND GO BACK TO MY STOP!”

The driver screeches to a halt by the side of the road and opens the doors, but the old man continues screaming at him. I’m pretty frightened by this point.

Driver: “Here, now I have stopped. I really don’t appreciate being sworn at.”

Old Man: “I wanted to get off back there! I know my f****** rights! It’s a hail and ride zone! I can get off wherever I f***** well like!”

Driver: “Did you even ring the bell?”

Old Man: “No, I didn’t ring the f****** bell! Here, I’ll ring the f****** bell. Does that make you happy? Eh?!”

He goes and aggressively stabs at the bell button.

Driver: “Please stop swearing at me. Please just get off the bus here, and you will not be welcome on here again.”

Old Man: “No! I am not getting off this bus! Give me your name! I am going to complain to the bus company about you! I know my rights!”

He hasn’t noticed me, and I get ready to call the police on my phone.

Driver: “Just so you are aware, this bus has CCTV.”

Old Man: *Goes pale* “Well, then shake my hand, and we’ll part as friends and say no more about it!”

He shook the driver’s hand and happily walked away up the road. I rang the bell shortly before my stop. The bus driver was so nice that he apologised for the earlier incident. I reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, and that there are some people in the world who understand how a bus works!

This story is part of the Swearing roundup!

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I walk into a fast-food restaurant. There are two cashiers at the registers, a big open space on this side, and then two ladies, both standing well back from the counter over by the pick-up area. I head up to one of the open registers. As I approach, one of the ladies suddenly calls out.

Lady: “We were here first!”

I glance over and then just nod.

Me: “Okay.”

I then turn back and finish walking up to the register.

Worker: “Hi. What can I get for you?”

Me: “I’d like to get—”

A hand clamps down on my shoulder and tries to turn me around.

Lady: “You aren’t—”

Without looking at her, I slap her hand off my shoulder, hard. She shrieks and takes a few steps back, before she starts to shout.

Lady: “YOU HIT ME! HE HIT ME!”

The cashier in front of me looks rather uncomfortable, while the other cashier just looks annoyed.

Me: “I’d like [combo].”

The cashier types it in and takes my money, all while this lady is still standing there, screeching, “HE HIT ME!” I get my receipt, go fill up my cup, and then go back up when my order is called to see the lady still standing there yelling, at a manager now, while the other lady hasn’t moved from where they were originally standing.

Lady: “HE’S THE ONE! HE HIT ME! KICK HIM OUT!”

The manager didn’t do anything as I collected my food. I went to sit down and eat it. I didn’t hurry, but I didn’t take too long, either. When I finished, the lady was still there shouting at an entirely different worker as I walked out the door.

We have all seen stories here about multi-level apartments where the upstairs neighbors are the worst because they make so much noise. This is going to be a story about when the downstairs neighbor was the bad guy.

I lived with my best friend and her husband in a two-story apartment that took up the second and third floor — the third floor was a loft — of a three-story apartment building. We were on the corner of the building. One interior wall was shared with the building’s stairwell to get from the first to the second floor. The other interior wall was shared with the building’s laundry room.

This essentially meant the only people we had to worry about bothering were in the ground floor apartment below us. My bedroom was up in the loft so it would be rare for me to bother ground floor people unless I was on the second floor. There were two bedrooms on the second floor — one in front where my best friend and her husband slept and one in the back that was used as an office.

Every time we took note of someone moving into that apartment, the three of us would go down and introduce ourselves to explain that the husband had a heavy step and got loud playing video games but would try to keep quiet after 10:00 pm, and that between the three of us we had four cats ranging from six pounds to twenty pounds — all approved by the leasing office — that could get hyper and start playing at any hour of the night.

During our year and a half there, we only had to do introductions three times. The first ground floor neighbor was fine, and there were no problems for anyone. The second ground floor neighbor did get loud enough one time butchering something that I could hear it in my bedroom, but we let it slide. The third ground-floor tenant… was a Karen.

Sometime before they moved in, my best friend had broken her ankle and by the time the Karen moved in, my friend had graduated to a medical walking boot and we both had gotten new jobs working a night shift and would be home after 1:00 am. This new information was provided along with our normal introductions and the Karen seemed fine with this.

Not too long after, the leasing office sent us a notice that a noise complaint had been filed against us. My friend limped to the office with her boot strapped in place to find out what was going on. The office took one look at her and tossed the complaint since they had already disregarded part of it due to our cats. Though the leasing office couldn’t tell us who filed the complaint, they did show my friend a detailed list that had been provided to them with times and days of the noises. It was easy to tell that it was the Karen because they started the day after we introduced ourselves and explained what to expect.

A few weeks later, three of the heaviest cats and I were the only ones awake at 4:00 am. I was watching TV with headphones on and heard a banging on our apartment door. I went to check it out and realized it was a police officer! Apparently, his station got a noise complaint about our apartment and was sent to investigate. I showed and explained my friend’s medical boot, and the three heaviest cats were busy playing, so he immediately apologized for the inconvenience and headed on his merry way. 

I should note here that there was a clause in the rental agreement that all noise complaints had to go through the leasing office and not the cops. I was betting that the Karen had been complaining to the office since the first complaint and was getting brushed off because we provided proof of why we were unintentionally loud.

The next day, my friend and I went and knocked on the Karen’s door. She and a friend we hadn’t met before answered. According to the Karen, her friend had heard loud thumping in the back bedroom for five minutes at 1:30 am. We explained that the back bedroom was an office so no one sleeps there or was likely to be using the room at 1:30 am.

The Karen blew us off, saying that something had to have been making noise, and we repeated the fact that three of our four cats were fat and were probably playing. We also found out through careful questioning that the friend was planning to live in the apartment for several months without going on the lease, which was also a requirement if a tenant decided to get a roommate.

We reported the Karen for violating the rental agreement for both calling the cops for a noise complaint as well as for having a roommate not on the agreement. Later, when the Karen’s motorscooter fell on someone’s car and dented it pretty badly and they moved the scooter to another place to avoid getting in trouble, we reported that, too, since the damages looked to be about $1,000 to repair.

We moved out before the Karen and her friend did, so I do not know what became of them, but good riddance. The place we are in now has concrete in the walls to muffle the sounds coming from all sides, so it’s blissful silence unless I have windows open.