Unfiltered Story #156825

, , , | | Unfiltered | July 2, 2019

(I’m a relatively new to working at a popular café, but since most people will get coffee every, I recognize a few familiar faces.  A group of my regulars will come in almost every day, and be very nice, leaving me a good tip, and making conversation while the wait for their drinks.  Every Sunday they come in together to watch a popular fantasy/medieval esque show that’s got a bad rep. for being particularly violent and showing some nudity.  No one is really bothered by it, and they are nice and tend to be quiet, so we don’t really worry about them, until one day. . .)
Women: Hey! Hey you!
Me: Oh yes, ma’am? Your drink should be ready in just a minute.
Women: No, no.  Those people over there; they aren’t allowed to watch that ungodly show in here are they?
Me: Well no one’s really bothered by it, but if they’re being too loud I’ll be happy to ask them to turn it down.
Women: But, surely they can’t watch that in here?  It’s practically pornography!  You should kick them out!
Me: Well, ma’am, they really doing anything wrong, so there’s not much I can do.
Women: No, no.  You’re no help.  (turns to my group of regulars) What do you think y’all are doing!
(One of my regulars looks up, but rolls his eyes when he understands why the women is screaming and goes back to watching.)
Women: Look at yourselves!  You’re all going to hell!
(I’m about to ask the women to leave when regular #1 practically leaps to his feet, to the surprise of his friends.)
Regular #1: My god, she’s right!
(He storms over to me, blowing off the screaming women, and slams his coffee into the trash can)
Regular #1: (Women) is right, by god!  I waste so much money on coffee.  Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.  I promise to you, you wonderful women, that tomorrow I will go out and buy my own coffee machine.  Thank you so much for imposing your unwanted charity upon me, oh thank you!
Women: What? No! Are none of you of the book?
Regular #2: Nah.  The shows so much easier; plus, who has time to read all those books?
Women: Augh! No! are none of you men of god?
Regular #1: Which one?
Regular #2: Yeah, there are so many in the show it’s hard to be sure which one people are talking about!
Women: NOOO! There is only one god!
Regular #1: Isn’t that what (character from show) always says?
Regular #2: Oh, yeah!  It is! Sorry lady, I’m not a huge fan of him.  He’s kind of a massive condescending t***.
Regular #1: Kind of like you, ma’am!
(Regular #1 and #2 laugh and high five, while the women storms out of the café, screaming about how she’ll take her business to out competitor, and that we’re all going to hell.  A few minutes later, I realized that the women wouldn’t be coming back for her already paid for drink, so I gave it to the regular #1 on the house, who admitted to me that he planned to continue coming here, and that he did not, in fact, plan to get a coffee maker.)

Another Reason Why Women Need To Take The Wheel

, , , , , | | Working | June 12, 2019

(I’m 18 and staying at a friend’s house the night before I get an early coach to the airport. This is my first time getting a flight alone so I’m pretty nervous. I pack up early and book a ride through a well-known taxi app. My friend lives on a road that has one main section with two smaller roads coming off of it but they’re all named the same street and just numbered as if it’s one road. As this can be confusing, I’ve made sure my location is clearly marked for pick up on the app and have left extra time. Despite this, the driver is still late and won’t answer his phone before eventually showing up.)

Driver: “What are you stood down here for?”

Me: “This is where I arranged pickup from, see?” *points to his phone screen on the dash*

Driver: “Well, it wasn’t showing that a minute ago. Anyway, coach station, right. I’m not going the way this thing tells me. Google Maps is rubbish; it always takes you the slow way.”

Me: “Right…”

(I’m a bit concerned but don’t want to tell a taxi driver how to drive, and the city can be a bit strange if there’s roadwork that Google doesn’t know about.)

Driver: “Where are you getting a coach to, then?”

Me: “The airport.”

Driver: “The airport? Why aren’t you driving there?”

Me: “Oh, I can’t drive.”

Driver: *laughs* “Good! That’s for the best. Women are terrible drivers; it’s best they keep you off the roads. Every crash I’ve been in was caused by a woman driver. I don’t know why they’re allowed. Don’t you think, when they’ve shown with all those tests that women are worse at driving, that they should have to pass a harder test?”

Me: “I actually did a psychology degree, and the tests really don’t show that women are worse drivers. The spatial experiment studies show that—“

Driver: “Now, now, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m just saying it’s good you can’t drive. Anyway— Oh. Where are we? Oh, blast it, I took a wrong turning. Hang on.”

(He drives hurriedly, and pretty dangerously at times, in a really random route. I’m getting a bit nervous because I’m close to being late for my coach even with the extra time I’ve allowed.)

Me: “Um, I think you need to take a right here.”

Driver: “Don’t you worry. I know what I’m doing. I was only kidding about being lost.”

(He ignores me and carries on straight, ending up opposite from the coach stop with four lanes of traffic between me and my coach, which is already at its stop.)

Me: “I can’t get out here!”

Driver: “Ugh. One second, then. We’ll turn around. Is that your coach?”

Me: “Yes!”

Driver: “Calm down! We’ll make it!”

(He turns the car around and goes down the road I indicated before, just in time to see the coach pull out of its stop. I stare at it in shock.)

Driver: “Oh, dear. Well, next time, be sure to be where you booked the pickup for; we lost a lot of time messing around.”

(I wordlessly got out, still in shock, as he got my bags out and then left me at the side of the road. I ended up having to get the next coach at a cost of another £25 and barely made it to the airport in time for my flight. I already have an anxiety disorder and was too anxious to deal with customer service so I didn’t make a complaint, though did give him a one-star review.)

Your Knowledge Knit His Brow

, , , , | Right | March 12, 2019

(An elderly gentleman is looking around the products near where I’m standing at the register. I’m twenty-five, but I look much younger and could be mistaken for one of the teenagers out of school for summer holidays.)

Customer: *picks up a set of crochet hooks* “What are these for?”

Me: “They’re crochet hooks.”

Customer: “That’s like knitting, right?”

Me: “That’s right! Instead of two needles, you use one hook, but a bit like knitting, yeah.”

(I crochet in my spare time, so I’m quite happy to talk about the hooks, since I know my stuff.)

Customer: “You know, a lot of girls your age don’t know things like that anymore. They don’t know how to sew or knit or anything; they just don’t care.”

(I just stood there, a little dumbfounded, until he wandered off, thinking to myself that HE didn’t know that, either. A little later, I could hear him asking my — much older than me — coworker questions about some of the electronics we had further into the shop, and making snide comments when she didn’t know all the answers. I guess I really disappointed him by proving that “kids these days” do still know about crafts. For the record, I sew, as well, but he’s right that I can’t knit!)

Unfiltered Story #113866

, , | | Unfiltered | June 11, 2018

(I work in a supermarket handling fruit, vegetables and flowers. We have gloves that we usually wear, which allows me to wear a ring on my middle finger. I take off my gloves to do price reductions. A customer approaches me)
Customer #1: …Aren’t you a little young to be married?
Me: What? Oh no, this isn’t a wedding ring.
(I even hold up my hand to illustrate that the ring isn’t on the right finger.)
Customer #1: Oh.
(Not two minutes later, another customer notices my ring.)
Customer #2: So nice to see that young people these days still wear promise rings. Good for you for waiting.
Me: Um, no…this isn’t a promise ring.
(Again I hold up my hand to show it’s not on my ring finger. The customer just walks away. I move to reduce a different area when one of my coworkers approaches.)
Coworker: Oh, nice ring! I didn’t know you were engaged.
Me: That’s because I’m not!

Anger Mismanagement

, , , , , , | Learning | April 10, 2018

This story took place years ago, when I was very young. Due to some nasal spray I was using for my hay fever, I would have frequent but unpredictable nosebleeds. I also attended a taekwondo class.

I was paired for sparring with a kid who everyone knew has anger management issues, but hadn’t caused any trouble. I was a higher belt than he was, and I had padded sparring gear, but I was also a year younger and quite small for my age.

As soon as the teacher called, “Go,” the kid raised his fists and started to slam them down, clearly aiming for my head. I held my arms up over my head to defend myself, but quickly ended up just on the ground with him battering my arms like he thought he was the Hulk. I could hear the teacher yelling and he was pulled away from me. The whole thing lasted maybe 30 seconds, but it felt longer.

The teacher called both our parents, telling mine that there had been a minor incident and they were needed, but telling his that they needed to come and collect him because he was no longer welcome as a student.

My mum, a nurse, arrived first and checked me over; I was fine. I took off my sparring helmet and just sat with her on a bench, while the two oldest students tried — unsuccessfully — to distract the rest of the class. Then, coincidentally, one of the nose bleeds from my nasal spray started.

The boy’s parents arrived, absolutely furious and demanding to know why their son had been kicked out of the class. The first thing they saw as they entered the hall was a tiny blond child in sparring gear, while their mother held a bloody tissue to their nose. Their anger instantly redirected to their son, and they apologised profusely to the teacher before taking him home.

I felt kind of bad that they thought their son gave me the nosebleed, but I realised that he would have done it to someone eventually, and it was best to have him removed from the class until his anger was successfully under control. Years down the line, he was permanently excluded for starting fights at school, so I guess he never did.

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