Mess With The Cub, You Get The Papa Bear’s Claws

, , , , , , | Legal | April 25, 2021

CONTENT WARNING: Assault

When I’m fifteen, my family stays in a hotel for an extended time. This hotel has a few washers and dryers on site, which is very convenient for us. My father and I are unloading two dryers, mine on the bottom left and his on the top right. While I bend down to unload my dryer, I feel someone grab my backside.

I stand abruptly, turn, and find myself staring at a strange man. He grins at me, reaching out as if to grab me again. I slap his hands away.

Me: “Don’t touch me.”

Father: *Closing his dryer door* “I didn’t touch you.” *Seeing the other man* “Did you touch her?”

Man: *Stepping back* “No.”

Me: “He grabbed my butt.”

My father is the kind of person who catches spiders in the house and releases them outside, so I never thought he’d be the type of person to do what happens next. He grabs the other man by the back of his neck and slams his face into the dryer door hard enough that it leaves a small dent, before throwing him backward. The other man stumbles, stunned.

My father stays standing between us.

Father: “You should go now.”

Man: *Glaring* “A**hole.”

My father takes a step toward the man.

Father: “Leave.”

The man made a speedy exit. We stopped at the front desk and reported him. The police came and took our statements asking the usual — what was I wearing, what was I doing, did I engage with the man at all before he touched me? I noticed the officer wasn’t writing anything down as he asked, only looking at me with a raised eyebrow before saying they probably wouldn’t be able to do anything.

I never heard anything about it again but we did get charged to repair the dryer door. My father contacted the hotel’s corporate office, apologizing for the dent and explaining what had happened. The charge was removed without comment.


This story is part of our Best Of April 2021 roundup!

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More Like A Bemusement Park

, , , , , | Legal | April 23, 2021

My job is making change so people can play amusement park games. It’s a slow night, and a big, tall man comes in.

Me: “Hello, sir. Do you have any questions about the game?”

The customer says nothing and moves into my personal space. I back up.

Me: “You use your quarters to push quarters off the end of the board, and it gives you one ticket for each quarter.”

The customer moves into my personal space again, looming over me. I put my hands in my change apron.

Me: “The tickets can be traded for prizes—”

The customer shoves his hand into my right apron pocket. I grab his wrist and squeeze.

Customer: “Let go of my hand!”

Me: “Your hand is in my pocket. Now open it up, and we’ll move it out of my pocket slowly.”

I squeeze more tightly for emphasis. His hand comes out, and he’s not holding anything.

Me: “Good. Now either you can leave, or I can call my boss and you can try explaining why your hand was in my pocket.”

He chose to leave. I was left to wonder why somebody so big went for trying to pick my pocket, and why he didn’t at least take the time to figure out that I kept bills in the LEFT pocket.

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This Receptionist Might Be TOO Receptive

, , , , | Legal | April 21, 2021

My office is very strict about getting personal items delivered to the office. I think there was some theft or something in the past and issues with insurance etc. Whatever the reason, it is made clear that it doesn’t happen unless you have the permission of the senior director, a man who is never here and is a very stern person.

I normally never work on reception, but today I’m covering the receptionist who had to be sent home sick. A courier drops off a load of parcels and I email each owner in turn to let them know. I get to a name I don’t recognise, so I head to the office, but they don’t know either. They send me to Human Resources, and the HR director says they will keep the package safe.

I get back to the desk and find a guy standing there.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Guy: “Where’s [Receptionist]?”

Me: “She’s out sick. Can I help?”

Guy: “No! Well… it’s just, I saw the courier and wondered if there was a parcel for me?”

Me: “What’s your name?”

He gives me his name and yes, it is the one on the mystery parcel.

Me: “Because I didn’t have your name on the approved delivery list, I had to place it upstairs for safekeeping.”

That’s a lie, but I guess that this isn’t a business-related delivery and he is going to act out if he finds out I am the one that got him into trouble.

Guy: “S***, where is it?”

Me: “Upstairs. You can ask [HR Manager] for it.”

He thought about it for a while and then went upstairs. I went on my lunch and didn’t think any more about it.

Weeks later, I heard that there is a vacancy for a new receptionist. Apparently, the guy was running some sort of bootlegger operation using the company mail, and the receptionist was being paid to look the other way. They were both fired, and I’m not sure how they thought anything else would happen.

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Share The Road, People!

, , , , , | Legal | April 19, 2021

When my son is about sixteen, he gets hit by a car when crossing a road — for once when he had the green light — on his bike. He gets T-boned by a car coming from the same direction and turning right. He doesn’t remember the hit itself, just standing behind the car, dazedly holding the boot of the car. Thanks to some martial art training and sheer luck, he went up and over the car and the car went over the bike.

The police office is not far from the accident, and both the driver and my son are brought there. As he is a minor, we are called and all parties are brought together in a room to figure out what happened.

Driver: “He ran a red light and I could not avoid him.”

Police Officer: “At that crossroad, cars, bicycles, and pedestrians have green at the same time, so if he ran the red light, so did you.”

Driver: “No, no, he was on the sidewalk.”

Police Officer: “Okay, so he was on the sidewalk when you hit him. What were you doing on the sidewalk?”

Driver: “No, I mean he was at the crossing.”

Police Officer: “So, you didn’t see him?”

Driver: “Yes, yes, I did see him.”

Police Officer: “It was on purpose, then?”

The driver did try a few other variations but could not think of a scenario where she wasn’t at fault. We took my son for a checkup and all he had to show for the accident was a small but complicated fracture that healed well, so no long-term consequences. But it doesn’t stop there.

Remember how he went over the car, probably executing a martial art roll, and the car went over the bike, damaging both top and bottom? The driver worked for a garage annex repair shop and did not mention the accident NOR the damage. As this was a work-issued car, the insurance contacted her employer, as she was at fault, and any damages to the car were not covered. She lost her job over it — not due to the accident but by not owning up to it.

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A Few Minutes To Crazytown

, , , , | Right | April 18, 2021

I work in a twenty-four-hour gas station. I should note that we’re only “technically” twenty-four hours. We have to close for fifteen minutes between 3:35 am and 4:00 am in order to for the system to calculate daily totals and reset for a new day, so I guess we’re a twenty-three-hours-and-forty-five-minutes store.

One night, while we’re closed and I’m doing paperwork, waiting for the system to reset, I see headlights out of the corner of my eye. I make no move to the door since I’m not allowed to open for anyone but the newspaper vendor. I half-watch the guy as his car weaves into a parking space, parks diagonally across it , and stumbles his way to the door.

He completely ignores the closed sign that is eye-level with him and starts pulling on the locked door. He pulls harder each time it doesn’t open. When this fails, he presses his face to the glass and starts banging on the door. 

I finally go to it with a piece of paper I’ve written.

Note: “Sorry! We’re closed for just a few minutes!”

I press it to the glass so he can read it, maintaining my customer service smile.

As soon as he reads it, he absolutely Hulks out. He slams hard on the glass with the side of his fist over and over, screaming.

Customer: “F****** BULLS***, YOU’RE CLOSED! YOU’RE TWENTY-FOUR-F******-HOURS! LET ME THE F*** IN RIGHT THE F*** NOW! YOU UGLY, FAT C***! I NEED SOME F****** SMOKES NOW!”

Where I live, there’s a plethora of drunks and addicts. I’m used to this type of behavior. Completely deadpan, I walk back around the counter and take down his license plate number off the camera before I grab the phone and go back to the door. He’s still screaming and banging, threatening me with things I won’t repeat here. 

I make a massive show of dialing 9-1… He takes off before I can even finish, doing a massive burnout at the entrance before peeling out down the street with his car threatening to spin out the whole way. 

I still called the non-emergency number to report his car make, model, and plate number for a DUI. Hope he got what he deserves.

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