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The Terrible Tuesdays

, , , , | Right | May 31, 2022

It’s seven in the morning on a Tuesday — a generally uneventful day. It’s just me and my boss and a beer vendor. I am watching a strange person pressing their face against every glass door of the cooler where we keep the beer. They eventually reach the cooler door where my boss and the vendor are talking. My boss looks at them awkwardly.

Customer: “Hey, got any good beer suggestions?”

Boss: “Yes.” *Points to a four-pack*

Customer: “Thank you.”

The customer turns toward where I am standing, smiling behind the counter, patiently waiting to assist them. They say “hello” to me as they start slowly trying to stuff the four-pack up the bottom of their jacket.

Customer: “I’m just gonna…”

He grabs a free newspaper and starts heading for the door.

Me: *Absolutely flabbergasted* “Uh, excuse me. Are you going to pay for that?”

Customer: “No.” *Continues walking very casually*

After wrapping my head around what has just happened, I tell my boss and we begin to hoof it down the main street after this person. After my kind words are unable to get our beer back from them, my boss makes a threat to call the cops, and our beer is retrieved. As my boss and I walk back to work, he exclaims:

Boss: “On a Tuesday morning… Jesus!”

It Pays To Know The Law

, , , , , , , | Legal | May 27, 2022

We recently bought our first house and moved there from an apartment in a large complex in a neighboring city. Before moving out, we cleaned and scrubbed the apartment, but as we hadn’t had time to shampoo the carpets like the complex wanted everyone to do on moving out, we figured we wouldn’t get the full damage deposit back. Oh, well; we got all of our things out and left no trash or messes. Plus, we were happy to be done with the nickel-and-diming the apartment complex did at the slightest opportunity.

Two and a half weeks passed with no word about the deposit. In my state, the law says that a landlord must give former tenants an itemized receipt and any remaining damage deposit no later than three weeks after the tenant moves out. After three weeks, the landlord forfeits any right to the deposit; it all goes to the former tenant, regardless of what state the rental was left in. Furthermore, if the landlord attempts to recover a damage deposit at this point, the courts will award up to twice the damage deposit to the former tenant (except in extraordinary cases, of course).

Knowing this, I called the apartment office and confirmed that they had our new address. I didn’t tell them why I curious. They did. A month after we moved out (that is, one week late), we got an envelope from the apartment complex with no itemized receipt, just a check for a third of our damage deposit. The postmark was after the three-week mark, as well.

Next, I called my dad, an attorney who handles non-criminal law and has experience with property law. I told him what was going on. His advice?

Dad: “Don’t cash the check, at least not yet. Write a letter citing the law and the apartment complex’s violation of it — and go ahead and include that you’ve talked to your lawyer about it.”

That’s not a lie; in the instances when I’ve needed a lawyer, like writing up my will, Dad’s the one I go to.

I happily typed up a short letter along the lines of:

Me: “We received your check on [date] after moving out on [date four weeks prior]. According to [state code] — which you have violated — and on the advice of my lawyer, I must insist that we are refunded the full deposit in accordance with state law.”

A day or two later, I got a phone call from the apartment complex. A very tense-sounding person on the other end told me in very stiff, formal terms that they’d received my note and a check for the remaining balance was on its way. Once I got that, I took both to the bank and deposited them.

The moral of the story: know your rights and follow the rules. We would have been fine with the smaller amount had they just followed state law, but once they tried to pull a fast one on us, probably assuming that we didn’t know what they were doing? Pay up!

Well, Shoot!

, , , , , , | Legal Right | CREDIT: functi0nalPsych0path | May 27, 2022

Content Warning: Gun-Related Injury


This takes place back around 2008. In Iowa, quite a few state parks have shooting ranges that are completely free and just have posted rules. As a rule, everyone is responsible for making sure the range is safe and clean.

I have just bought a new gun and want to sight it in to my shooting style. I’m a left-handed shooter but right-eye dominant.

When I get to the range, there are the usual people there, including the brass thief, but he’s a story for another time. The far left lane is open.

I move my stuff to the table and start setting up my sled and other equipment.

To the right of my lane is a father and son shooting a tiny bolt action .22. The gun is one of those that takes a key to function every time. The kid is maybe ten years old and seems to know how to use the rifle because he is loading .22 shorts, using the key to reload, and shooting again. He is being safe and keeping it pointed downrange. His dad is giving pointers and overall is a good mentor.

I load and shoot.

Then, I wait for the range to clear and for people to reset targets.

The dad next to me walks away and leaves the kid to shoot.

I pick up my rifle and start to wipe the barrel. I’m planning on waiting for the barrel to cool, shoot, wait, and so on.

I hear the kid fumbling with the keys and getting frustrated

Pop! I just got punched in the leg. It hurts but in a weird way. The kid squeaks a “sorry” and I take inventory. I feel my leg and find the hole. It isn’t even bleeding yet, but still, my brain is going, “Holy f***, f***, s***, f***, I just got shot!”

I look for the dad and he’s fiddling with fishing equipment in the back of his truck.

Me: “Excuse me, sir—”

Man: *Interrupting* “My son is allowed to shoot and we aren’t moving.”

Me: “Yes, sir, but the issue is that he just shot me!”

Man: *Laughing* “No, he didn’t.”

I take my hand off my leg and show him as, by now, it has started to bleed.

Man: “You must have shot yourself. My son has been shooting since he could walk!”

Me: “Accidents happen. I’m not upset. I just need insurance information for the ranger and paramedics as I need to call 911.”

Man: “Look, I’ll give you $100 to just leave and say it was an accident.”

Me: “No.”

I call 911.

Other people on the range start to gather and some go find a park ranger.

The dad keeps arguing.

Man: “My son couldn’t have shot you. He doesn’t know how to load the gun. And if he did, it was because you were downrange.”

Kid: “Yeah, I do, Dad; you showed me. I did shoot him. It was an accident!”

The dad starts to panic and starts tossing everything into the truck in a scramble to get away. Before he can, another shooter grabs the man’s keys from the table.

The guy gets more and more upset as I sit there with my pinky stuffed in a brand new hole.

Eventually, the ranger gets there and everyone starts yelling their side of what happened. The ranger calms everyone down as the police arrive and start sorting through everything.

Me: “The kid shot me by accident. His dad was freaking out and tried to leave, but another person has his keys.”

They summon an ambulance and they look me over.

The officers handcuff the dad.

Me: “Wait, he didn’t do any harm. I’m not pressing charges.”

The officers explained that he was a felon and thus not allowed to be around guns anyway.

I was taken away, and they removed the bullet. There was no major harm done, but it did chip bone.

“We’re The Piraaates Who Don’t Do Anythiiiing…”

, , , , , , , | Working | May 24, 2022

Back in the early days of office computer networks, I was put in charge of setting up and maintaining the network for the law firm I worked at. The partner attorney who oversaw all this was really something!

First, the firm’s entire reason for upgrading to networked computers was so that the firm would have an inter-office email system. But Mr. Partner decided that it would cost too much to buy thirty-five individual versions of the software and bought only ONE stand-alone version and had me install that one install disk on all thirty-five computers, using the same code every time. Thus, email wasn’t possible because stand-alone software didn’t include it.

After some investigation, I did find a way to do short “instant messages” from one person to another and set up a short macro for everyone to make that easier. Mr. Partner was heard proudly referring to that as “our email system.”

He followed that up by ordering me to call a friend in a nearby firm to ask if we could “borrow” their install disks for a spreadsheet program. Not surprisingly, that request was denied.

Then, he attended a conference at the local Bar Association on the subject of computer piracy and came to me afterward.

Partner: “Have you heard about computer piracy? It’s really terrible!”

Me: “Yes, I have heard of it. We do it all the time. If we did it any more, I’d have to have a patch on my eye and a parrot on my shoulder!”

The following year, they opted to do an actual legit upgrade to have real email and licensed software on each PC, all while Mr. Partner kept shaking his head saying he really didn’t see why we needed to go to that expense!

Shining Some Clarity On The Situation

, , , , , | Right | May 24, 2022

I work in a hotel. I am checking out a couple after a weekend stay. The husband is reaming off a list of complaints.

Guest: “We need a discount! The AC was too weak, the water pressure was too strong, the view was boring…”

As he’s continuing, I notice a small piece of fabric sticking out of his luggage, caught in the zipper.

Me: “But you liked our lamps so much that you felt compelled to get one yourself?”

Guest: *Stopping mid-rant* “Uh… what?”

Me: “Our custom fabric lampshades. From the looks of your luggage, you liked them very much.”

The guest is flustered, knowing he’s been caught stealing.

Me: “So… provided the room is left in the condition in which you found it, you’re satisfied with paying the standard rate?”

Guest: “I… uh… yes, please.”

The lampshade magically appeared at our help desk a few minutes later.