Make No Space For Me, I’ll Make None For You

, , , , , | Friendly | March 12, 2019

I’m driving, with my husband in the passenger seat. We pull into the local grocery store parking lot that is always crowded. Every space is taken in the first aisle we drive down. As we pull around to go down the next aisle, we find the path blocked by an SUV. There is no traffic coming either way and at first, we don’t know why it’s just sitting there, until I notice the passenger side door is open and a foot is hanging out. Considering that we’re right in front of the store, I naturally assume that the passenger is being dropped off so that the driver can find a spot to park without the passenger — probably elderly because we live in a county with a large retirement community — having to walk too far.

At first, we sit there and wait, but the passenger never steps out, never even opens his door all the way. Eventually, I check to make sure there is no oncoming traffic and start going around the SUV. Next thing I know, it starts honking and, as far as I can see, there’s no reason for it, since they’re blocking and we’re just trying to get down the aisle. And then I have to put on the brakes because a car has started to back out of a space that’s right in the front. I think nothing of it; I don’t even consider taking the spot since we don’t need one that close to the entrance, but that was before I noticed the SUV pulling in uncomfortably close to my car and I finally put two-and-two together.

Blocking the roadway, the passenger taking his time to get out, or at the very least the honking was all because they thought we were trying to take the spot, when we couldn’t even see the car that was getting ready to leave. So, of course, I take the spot. A d**k move on my part, I’m sure, but if you’re going to be that rude and inconsiderate to other drivers, you’ll get the same in return.

Speeding Away From Customer Service

, , , | Working | March 12, 2019

(I’ve hired a driving service to get home from my aunt’s house since I don’t have a car. I’ve used this service before and all other rides have been fantastic, including the one after this. But this one? This one is the only one I’d say angered me beyond belief! She starts driving before I’ve even buckled in and for the first bit, I’m not sure, but it feels like she is speeding. I see on her dashboard where it tracks how fast we are going in big, bright numbers. And then, we pass a sign that reads, “35 mph.” She is going 46.)

Me: “Slow down, please.”

Driver: *ignores me and takes a hard turn that knocks me to one side, even with me buckled in*

Me: “SLOW DOWN, PLEASE!”

Driver: “Do you want me to stop the ride?”

(I look outside and we’re on a BACK ROAD with no street lights near an abandoned middle school.)

Me: “No. I’d like for you to go the speed limit, please.”

(The driver muttered and started driving five to ten miles under the speed limit to be spiteful and petty. The moment I saw a brightly-lit gas station on a busy road, I had her drop me off, called the service, and got my money back. I can understand street familiarity and going maybe one or two miles over the speed limit. But eleven?! And then to get rude after being asked to slow down? No way.)

A Loose Connection

, , , , , , | Working | March 12, 2019

Growing up with divorced parents, once a month my mom would pack us up for the eight-hour drive to visit my dad and brother for the weekend. One time, we were roughly halfway through our trip when her engine suddenly died in the middle of nowhere. We were fortunate enough that this happened on a section of the canyon road that actually had a shoulder wide enough to pull out on, and that she had enough momentum to reach it before we came to a halt. Being in the age before cell phones — and even today, that area is probably still out of range of the nearest tower — she put on her hazard lights and we proceeded to wait… and wait… and wait…

Around four hours later, someone pulled over to ask if we needed help, and she asked him to call her a tow truck when he reached the next town. Two hours later, we were finally back on our way, and an hour after that we dropped off the car and check in to a hotel.

The next morning my dad picked us up and the car was left at the mechanic for them to fix for our return trip the next day. They inspected it and informed her that the problem was a very simple fix; there was a loose connection that had come free during the drive. Mom thanked them, paid, drove us home, and immediately went to the mechanic who had checked out her car two days before her drive to demand an explanation.

It turned out that one of his employees was in the process of opening a shop of his own, and had deliberately loosened that connection — as well as sabotaged other customer’s cars — in an effort to discredit his employer and drive their business to him.

I have no idea what happened to that guy, but the boss gave my mom several hundred dollars of free maintenance on her car to make up for everything.

Fast Lane Straight To Jail

, , , , | Legal | March 5, 2019

(I’m driving home from work having closed up the late night shift. The roads are quite clear but there is a little traffic. About halfway home while in the inside lane at just about at the speed limit I see, in my rear view mirror, a car coming up in the outside of three lanes at high speed. I quickly guess he plans to cut across all three lanes and weave through traffic and I begin to ease off. This is incredibly lucky because, while he does manage to cross all three lanes… he is sideways by the time he reaches my lane. He impacts the barrier and spins down the road ahead of me. I’m squeezing my brakes for all they have while I drive through a cloud of debris. I manage to stop around a car length away from him, and then I’m out of my car on the phone to the police right away and running to check he is okay. I see him climb out of the car, amazingly in one piece.)

Me: “Are you all right? Do you need an ambulance? I’m calling the police.”

Driver: “No, I’m fine. Don’t call the police.”

Me: “Mate… Look. You’ve left most of your car across two lanes… The police are coming.”

Driver: “No, no. It’s fine. They don’t need to come.”

(I ignore him at this stage and remain on the phone giving details to the dispatch officer. I decide to stay at the scene because my car has working lights to warn other drivers, and because I want to provide a witness statement to police. Shortly after I hang up on the call, he approaches me.)

Driver: “Could you do me a favor?”

Me: “I can try!”

Driver: “Tell them you saw me get cut off.”

(I agree to stop him trying to argue and threaten me, but I plan to tell the police EXACTLY what took place. Fortunately, the police do arrive pretty quickly. They take his statement, and from the looks both officers give as they listen, it’s clear they smell BS. The driver is breathalysed and cleared for drunk driving. One of the officers asks me to walk to my car with him to take my statement. I tell him exactly what took place and include that I was asked to lie. The officer just smiles before saying.)

Officer: “I have been to enough of these to know when someone is lying; you just confirmed exactly what I suspected.”

(He took the rest of my statement and I carried on home. I was so angry with the driver who asked me not to call the police, then asked me to lie, and didn’t seem to realise that he is lucky to be alive and lucky he didn’t kill anyone.)

Cops Get There Faster Than A Ferrari

, , , , | Legal | March 4, 2019

(I have just graduated high school and am looking for a job before I head off to college. I start by getting into a job that’s basically me unwrapping vinyl wrappings on the interior and exterior of cars. After a good few weeks of searching, I am finally asked by a guy living relatively close to me to unwrap his Ferrari, a 488. I give him my price and the estimated amount of time needed, which is a few days since I have to go to him. Everything goes smoothly, he agrees, and I start my work. I’m on the third day, working for an hour or so, before a man and what I assume to be his daughter walks down the sidewalk. The father is in his mid-forties and the daughter in her late teens, maybe 16 or 17. I see them coming and raise my hand in greeting. They return the gesture, and I resume my work only for a shadow to fall over me. I look up and see that the man and his daughter standing over me.)

Man: “Nice car you got there.”

Me: “Thanks! It’s not actually mine — I’m just unwrapping the vinyl wrappings — but I can tell the owner you like it if you want.”

Man: “You got the keys to it?”

Me: “Nah, I don’t have the keys. Sorry.”

Man: “Can my daughter and I sit in it?”

Me: “Nah, man, sorry. This car doesn’t actually belong to me, so I can’t let you sit in it.” *points to my ghetto ‘86 Toyota pickup* “You can sit in my truck, though. I don’t mind you sitting in the bed of it.”

Daughter: *takes one look at it and sneers* “Ew, that’s disgusting. There’s no way I’m sitting in that!”

Me: *stands up from kneeling* “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong about it being disgusting, but it’s the only thing I got right now.”

Man: “Come on! Just let her sit in it. She just turned sixteen a week ago! Let her have some fun!”

Me: “Look, I’ve already told you: I can’t let you sit in it. It’s not my car, so I couldn’t let you sit in it even if I wanted to. I’m just an eighteen-year-old trying to earn some cash unwrapping vinyl wrappings.”

Man: “Come on! It’s not like it’s going to do anything or hurt the car, is it?”

Me: *turning around to face the dad, big mistake* “Yes, it can and it will hurt the car. I’m not done unwrapping the interior yet, so it’ll—“

(As I’m talking with the dad, I hear the door quickly open and close. I turn back around to find that the daughter had jumped in. I try to open it, but she quickly locks it.)

Me: *knocking on window* “Miss, you need to get out right now.”

Man: *getting up in my face now* “Look, man, just let her have it! Back off before I make you!”

(Before I can react, he bolts for the passenger side. I try to stop him, but the man quickly pushes me onto the ground, giving me a pretty nasty scrape on my elbow in the process. The door unlocks and he jumps in. I get up and quickly honk my truck’s horn to let the owner know something is wrong. He bolts out of his house, since, you know, a Ferrari 488 is expensive as h***. As the owner tries to talk with the man and his daughter, I quickly call the police, since it is pretty obvious they aren’t going to get out anytime soon. As the couple mocks the owner, I tell the operator that people are trying to steal a Ferrari. That gets their attention pretty quickly, and before you know it, four or five cops pull up, code three. The man and his daughter don’t seem scared by them.)

Cop: *walks up to the car window and knocking on it* “Sir? Sir! Get out of the car!”

Man: “Look! It’s her birthday week! Let her f****** have it! Besides, it’s not like this old f***** is going to be driving it anytime soon!”

Cop: *growing frustrated by the couple’s obscenity and stubbornness* “Sir, you will get out of the car or else we’ll be forced to call in a locksmith.”

Man: *gives the cop the bird*

(Cue 30 to 50 minutes of the cops trying to unlock it, only for the man and his daughter to immediately lock it again. After lots of talking and lots of trying, the cops apparently “gave up,” before suddenly unlocking it and surprising the two. As the door opened, the man and his daughter went ape-s*** crazy. Somehow, the dad managed to get away from his officer and bolted towards me, socking me pretty heavily in the gut and across the face. Immediately afterward, the four remaining cops all tackled him simultaneously to the ground and made sure I was fine before asking if I wanted to press charges. I immediately said yes, since he wasted over an hour of work and physically assaulted me, along with a bunch of other charges the owner decided to request, and that’s not even taking into consideration the number of laws he broke. The whole time, the daughter was screaming and crying while the dad was trying to get at me. End result? I got a ride in the Ferrari as a thank-you. To this day, I’m not sure what happened to that man and his daughter, but I’m sure it wasn’t good.)

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