Patience Is A Virtue And She Is Not Virtuous

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 16, 2018

It’s a cold, rainy day and I’ve run out of a few necessities so I make a trip to a nearby retailer. Luck is with me because I find a parking spot that is very close, right next to the handicapped parking.

I go in, grab what I need, and hustle back out. I put my bags in the back floorboard, then climb into the back seat so that I can take off my toddler’s rain jacket without getting the backseat wet.

As I’m trying to convince my son to put down his plush toy long enough for me to take off his jacket, a car pulls up directly behind my car and puts on their blinker. I wave at the woman, letting her know that I saw her, then return to the task at hand. After removing his jacket, I strap him in and give his plush back.

When I get out to get in the driver’s seat, I realize that she has pulled up far enough that she’s boxed me in. I gesture for her to back up. Then I get into the driver’s seat, start up the car, and look in the mirror to find the woman hasn’t backed up.

I turn around, and again I gesture for her to back up. She keeps glaring and honks again, then gestures for me to back out. I shake my head because there’s not enough room.

Realizing she’s not going to move, I take a cereal bar out of my purse and pass it to my toddler to keep him happy, and then I start playing a game on my phone.

I sit there for another ten minutes that are interspersed with the woman honking, and quite possibly swearing, before she speeds around to find another spot.

It Takes A Marathon Effort To Make Her Realize

, , , , , | Right | March 16, 2018

(I am volunteering at my local half-marathon race, as a marshal at a junction where the road is closed to let the runners through. The race has happened on the same Sunday for the past four years. Before the race, the organisers and local council send letters to local residents who will be affected by road closures on the morning of the race, signs are put up six weeks before the event advising people of road closures, and volunteers go out a few days before the race to put leaflets on cars along the route warning drivers that the road will be closed while the event takes place. Still, people have trouble grasping the concept. The following takes place approximately five minutes before the last of the runners has passed my location. A woman in a car comes up to the “Road Closed” sign.)

Me: “Good morning. I’m sorry, but the road is currently closed for the half-marathon. Can I help you with an alternative route?”

Woman: “No! I only live on the next road. You have to let me through.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but the road is closed by law until the last runner has passed and we have permission from the sweep car to reopen.”

Woman: “This is nonsense! There is no one on the road! I only want to go just down there. I’m not going to run anyone over!”

Me: “I’ve been informed that the last runner is five minutes away. Once they have passed, we will reopen the road.”

Woman: “I can’t wait five minutes! I have ice cream in the car! I have desserts in the car! They are all going to be ruined!

Me: “Okay, well, I can offer you two options. Either you can park your car here and walk–” *she interrupts to tell me she can’t possibly walk “all that way”* “–or, as I said, you can wait here for five minutes until we open the road.”

Woman: “NO! You must let me through!” *picks up box of ice creams and waves it at me* “I HAVE ICE CREAM IN THE CAR! I demand you give me the telephone number of whoever organised this ridiculous event. I DEMAND COMPENSATION FOR MY ICE CREAM!”

Me: “You can find contact details for them on the website. I cannot let you through until I have permission to reopen the road. There are still runners on the course, and they all have a right to run their race safely.”


(She executed a screaming three-point turn and zoomed off in the opposite direction. Lo and behold, two minutes later, the last runner came past and we were given permission to reopen the road.)

A Not-So-Sweet Ending

, , , , , | Right | March 15, 2018

(I work as a rideshare driver. I provide water and candy for my passengers, and I have a small sign saying, “Please take no more than one item per rider.” I’ve just picked up a woman with her kids. She has just been shopping and has a few clear bags with her.)

Child: “Mom, look! Can I have a piece of candy?”

Mother: “Yes, but see what it says here? You can only have one piece each. Make sure to say, ‘Thank you!’”

(I smiled to myself, happy that the mother was teaching her kids to be polite. When I dropped them off and they were walking away, I noticed that one of the woman’s bags was full of the same type of candy I had put out. I checked my pouch to find that the woman had cleared out every piece of candy that I had.)

Cool Car Comes With License To Be A Jerk

, , , , | Right | March 12, 2018

(I regularly wrangle carts for my job at a local discount grocery store. The storefront is on the left side of a T-shaped intersection in the parking lot, with long lines of parking spaces parallel to the storefronts of the surrounding strip mall. In the middle of a rainy spring day, I am wrestling with a stack of six uncooperative carts when this dude in a red 90s Thunderbird comes flying down the corridor from the main surface street. He turns left at the T, but stops halfway through the intersection. Several slower-moving cars end up stacked behind him, and several more on the other side of the intersection. And there I am, pinned to the corner, trying not to block the other lane with the carts. The man in the Thunderbird just sits there, calmly smoking a cigarette.)

Lady: *in the car next to me* “Could you see what the hold up is?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

(I walk to the front of my carts, a few yards from the Thunderbird. The window is rolled down.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir. Why are you stopped here? You’re blocking the intersection.”

Thunderbird Guy: “I’m waiting to get that there spot.”

(He gestures to a spot opposite the front of the store, where a little old lady has just arrived at her car and has not even begun to unload her full cart, and anyone watching would have surmised it would take her a few minutes to do so.)

Me: “Sir, there’s a lot of people stuck behind you. Could you please choose another spot, so the intersection can clear?”

(There are literally dozens of other parking spaces further down the lot.)

Thunderbird Guy: “Ugh. Can’t you people just go around me?”

Me: “No, sir, that would block the other lane, and that would be unsafe.”

(People have been known to drive recklessly in that parking lot, and I don’t want to chance an accident.)

Thunderbird Guy: “Unsafe? HA!”

(The Thunderbird guy sniggered and ignored me for the next five to ten minutes until the old lady finally pulled out of her spot. He finally went into my store to shop. About 30 minutes later, I came in from my cart shift to see the man checking out. Although I didn’t hear what happened, one of our cashiers told him something and he stormed out, leaving a full cart of groceries behind. I later found out he’d tried to purchase $220 worth of groceries with an expired and empty EBT card. Although it hadn’t crossed my mind at the time, there was decal on the red Thunderbird’s rear window of a skeletal hand with outstretched middle finger. That probably should have given me a clue.)

She’s Not Gonna Truck You

, , , , | Friendly | March 9, 2018

(I am taking my dad’s truck out to get filled up. The gas station is empty except for one truck at a diesel pump. There’s one other pump I can use, so I circle around to pull in. As I’m doing so, a car comes screeching into the lot, goes the wrong way down a one-way lane, and pulls into the last diesel pump. I’m a little flustered, but I decide to go inside to get some milk while I wait. As I drive by, [Truck Driver] gives me a sympathetic look. I go in, get my milk, and get back in the truck to drive around and wait. That’s when I hear screaming and roll down my window.)

Truck Driver: “You’re the one who broke the law to cut off a young woman! Look at all these open pumps you could have used, and you took the only one she could!”

Car Driver: “Man, I already told you. I’m just tryna get home. You get out my face and I’ll get out the way of Miss Princess B**** over there.”

Truck Driver: *infuriated* “How dare you insult a woman? She has done nothing wrong! If anything, you’re the one acting like the Princess, thinking you’re better than everyone else!”

Car Driver: *also infuriated* “Yeah? What’s that make you? You’re the one holdin’ up the situation. She was being a good girl and turnin’ the other cheek. Now you’re holding her up cuz you wanna act like a hero. You’re the one making this into something it ain’t gotta be.”

(They’ve started moving toward each other at this point, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to get involved or I might get hurt, but I don’t want to just leave and let it happen. So, I stay in the truck and yell out:)

Me: “Excuse me, sir! I don’t mind that you took the spot, but if you’re done with it now, I would like to use it so we can all go home.”

(They both look at me for a moment, and then back at their pumps, which have both stopped. They glare at each other the whole time they’re walking back to their pumps. As they finish up, [Car Driver] leaves first and flips off [Truck Driver]. I then pull up to pump my gas.)

Truck Driver: “I’m sorry about him. Unfortunately, this is something that happens a lot when you drive a truck. It’s happened to me quite often, as well, so I lost my head a bit over it. I’m sorry I held you up.”

Me: *just wanting to leave at this point* “It’s all right.”

Truck Driver: “Would you mind if I paid you back?”

Me: “That’s really not necessary.”

Truck Driver: “Come on; let me take you to dinner or something. I like women who can handle a truck.”

Me: *really creeped out* “I’m seventeen, and this is my dad’s truck.”

Truck Driver: *going pale* “Oh, uh… You look… much older. Um… I should just… yeah…. I’m sorry.”

(He then hopped in his truck and took off. My dad won’t let me fill up his truck again.)

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