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.

The Lord Taketh Away

, , , , , | Right | February 11, 2018

(A man comes in, picks up a few snacks, and goes to check out. He also mentions he’s a priest.)

Priest: “Would you give me a 15% discount because I’m a man of the Lord?”

Me: “Is the Lord a fan of extortion?”

(Awkward silence.)

They’re Not The Brightest Light In The Place

, , , , , , | Right | January 24, 2018

(I work in a bicycle repair shop diagnosing issues. A customer and I are trying to work out the issue with his bike when an older woman pushes her way to the front of the line and starts screaming at me.)

Older Woman: “I can’t use your bloody bathroom! What’s wrong with this place?!”

(I say, “Excuse me,” to my current customer and turn to the woman.)

Me: “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

Older Woman: “Your stupid lights in the bathroom are reversed.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Older Woman: “I go into the bathroom and the lights are on, and when I flip the switch, it goes dark!”

Me: “Are you sure–“

Older Woman: “I will stand here all day unless you fix it now!”

(I go into the bathroom and flip the switch off, so when she walks in, she’ll flip the light on. After going to the bathroom, she comes back to the desk, and once again interrupts the customer:)

Older Woman: “Here I was thinking you had to be bright to fix one of these bikes. But you don’t even know to get a proper light in the bathroom!”

And Have A Happy Friday Eve!

, , , , , | Right | December 26, 2017

(It’s my second Christmas working retail, and my first working behind the tills. While I’m not in any way religious, I still celebrate Christmas and other Christian holidays as a time to spend with family, have nice food, and sometimes exchange presents. A regular customer, a woman wearing a chador, comes up to the till. I’m wearing a Santa hat.)

Customer: *gestures to my hat* “You doing anything nice for Christmas?”

Me: “Oh, just the standard family and food. Are you doing anything nice this week?”

Customer: “No, not really, though you’d be surprised how many people ask what I’m doing for Christmas.”

Me: “Really? You’d think it would be a bit obvious.”

Customer: “You’d think. Have a nice Christmas!”

Me: “Have a nice Friday!”

(She was one of the only customers who asked me about my plans for Christmas, which meant a lot to me as she wasn’t normally very talkative. When I saw her after Christmas, I asked her how her Friday was, and she asked me how Christmas went and we had a laugh about it. We had pretty much the same conversation again at Easter. Apparently I was the only person who didn’t ask her, a kind-of-obvious Muslim, what she was doing on Christian holidays, and it meant a lot to her!)

Very Taxing Taxiing, Part 3

, , , , , | Working | November 28, 2017

(I am a student at my local university, as well as a disabled person with a serious mental illness, as well as physical disabilities which put me in a wheelchair. Because of this, and the scarcity of local buses, the government pays towards me getting taxis to class. The taxi company knows that I am disabled. Today I go to get my taxi at 1:00 pm; I have to meet my support worker at 1:30, and my classes start at 2:00. It gets to ten minutes past with no sign of a taxi so I call the company.)

Me: “Hello, I booked a taxi for 1:00 pm and it’s not arrived.”

Company: “It’s on the way. It’ll be there soon.”

(Ten more minutes pass and no taxi, so I call again.)

Me: “Hello, I called before and my taxi still hasn’t arrived.”

Company: “It’s in [my area] now, so it won’t be long.”

Me: “Well, I’m meant to be there in ten minutes—” *they hang up on me part way through that sentence*

(At this point, I start hyperventilating and freaking out a bit. I’ve been on the side of the road in the cold for half an hour at this point, and my mental health problems mean I do not cope well with unexpected situations. I contact my support worker and tell them I will be late, and then speak to my carer to help me calm down a bit. Finally, at half-past, the taxi calls.)

Taxi: “Your taxi is here; I’m outside.”

Me: “Where are you?”

Taxi: “By the co-op. How do I get to you?”

Me: “I don’t know; I don’t know of a co-op around here. Just out of curiosity, what area are you in?”

Taxi: “I’m in [area around two miles away].”

Me: “I ordered it for [my area].”

Taxi: “Oh. I’ll be there in three minutes.”

(He hangs up and I wait. Finally he arrives, 40 minutes late. No apology. We get into the taxi and drive off. A few minutes later he turns to me.)

Taxi: “So, how do we get to the university?”

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