I’m not feeling great and I go to my local large pharmacy. I’m masked up and keeping my distance; unfortunately, this woman isn’t. She looks like she is wandering around aimlessly, but she keeps getting in front of me, indecisively picking up everything or right behind me, impatiently reaching across me.

As I said, I’m not feeling great, and the constant rudeness is getting more and more on my nerves. She ignores all my requests for distance and I eventually cuss her out, so she stays away.

Feeling no better, I get all my medicine, food, and drinks and stand in line to pay. It’s not long before the woman joins the line behind me, no surprise standing way too close.

Me: “You need to back off. Give me some space.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Move back and stay back.”

Customer: “Or what?”

I’m not proud of this, but as she spat out the sentence, the pain in my stomach doubled. Without much control, my gaseous medical calamity revealed itself, silently but oh, so noxiously.

The thing about a man in his thirties who has a protein-rich diet with a particular interest in real ale is that this would be a particularly bad event on its own, even if I wasn’t also feeling so unwell.

The woman being so close felt its full force and coughed herself away and out of the shop.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t bear to look the cashier in the eye and had to leave my purchases. Luckily, I managed to get most of what I needed from another store.

I thankfully got better very quickly. As embarrassing as it was, I couldn’t lie, it was a really effective way to deal with these idiots.

Related:
You’ll Back Off One Way Or Another

I work at a town hall, one of my tasks is issuing marriage licenses when health crisis restrictions ease up as they have.

Today, I have an appointment to issue a license. I grab my mask, sanitize my hands, grab the different documents, and head down to one of our rooms that’s big enough to have people standing six feet apart. Since the town hall’s doors are locked to avoid walk-ins, I have to meet them at the door. The woman has no mask; when I ask her to wear one, she says she is exempt, showing me a screenshot of a US exemption; we’re in Canada. We’re not allowed to ask for proof, so I just deal with it and pretend like she never showed me. I ask her to sanitize her hands. Again, she refuses.

Our process for a marriage license is to have them bring their application, any prior divorce or death certificates, and IDs. I ask if her partner is going to show up and she says yes, so we wait for about ten minutes. This puts the appointment a little late; we have thirty minutes for each appointment, and I have one in another room right after.

The woman’s partner arrives, we exchange pleasantries, and we get started. I’ve already checked their IDs and application by email, so I quickly recheck and write the info down. From there I get into the health-crisis-related questions.

Me: “1. Where is your wedding being held?”

Woman: “Inside the church at [Street].”

No big deal; we still allow church weddings if the group is smaller than ten people.

Me: “2. Will you be having a reception? If yes, where?”

Woman: “Yes, at [Banquet Hall].”

Red flags are sailing, so I ask the third question.

Me: “3. How big is the group attending?”

Woman: *All giddy* “Well, for my group there are about ninety-three guests, and on his side, there will be eighty or so. We have more coming to the reception. I think in total there will be 200 people or so.

I look up at her from the license. I look to the guy and then back at her.

Me: “I can’t issue a license for a gathering that large. Indoor gatherings must have fewer than ten people, including the couple and the officiant. Outdoor gatherings can have up to thirty, including the couple and officiant.”

The woman immediately flips out.

Woman: “You’re infringing my right to get married! [Health Crisis] is just a scam. It has a 99.9% survival rate! I should be allowed to get married! I’ve been planning this for three months and already paid for all the food and everything!”

I try to deescalate, telling her I can’t give her the license because it’s against the law. I hand her a pamphlet with [Health Crisis]-safe marriage information and start to walk them out. She’s still throwing a tantrum. She demands to speak to my manager, so I call her down.

My manager was already busy dealing with other stuff, so she isn’t in the best mood. The woman says I was belligerent, called her names, didn’t accept she wouldn’t wear a mask, etc.

Manager: “Well, why don’t I pull up the footage and we can take a look?”

The woman flips out even more, saying the same stuff as before. My manager is done with this.

Manager: “No clerk in [City] will issue a marriage license in this situation because it is against the law. We need to write down how many people will be at the celebration. You then have to post the green paper outside the venue and an officer may or may not drop in. If we are found to have issued a license and there are more people present, you will be fined. The clerk will no longer be able to give licenses and we will be in a lot of trouble. As you told the clerk, you have only planned this for three months. That means you’ve had enough time to know it’s a health crisis. Because of your attitude to my clerk, we will no longer be accepting any appointments for you or your partner. As far as I’m concerned, you are banned.”

She then took the application, stamped “Rejected” on it, and took it with her.

We ended up having to call security to escort them out of the building. Oh, and as for her partner, he did nothing. He literally sat in the chair and did nothing. But at least he wore a mask.

We’ve turned off the usual self-serve butter station and instead are giving customers cups of butter that we pre-pour and seal. It’s to avoid having too many people touching the same surfaces at the butter station. The cups of butter we pre-pour are specifically measured out to be about enough to evenly cover a large popcorn. I’ve just sold a middle-aged customer a large popcorn and I hand him a cup of butter.

Me: “Here’s some butter for your popcorn if you’d like.”

Customer: “Pfft! What’s that?! That’s not enough! You’re trying to be cheapskates!”

Me: “That’s about enough to cover a large popcorn if you drizzle it evenly, but I can give you extra butter, if you’d like.”

Customer: *Furious* “That’s not enough to cover a large popcorn, idiot! Look!”

The customer opens up the butter and pours it straight down, all in one spot without spreading it out at all.

Customer: *Fuming* “See?! Not enough butter!”

Me: “Well, sir, I’ll give you another one, but I’d recommend moving it back and forth as you pour so you can evenly coat the popcorn!”

I hand the customer another butter and he does the exact same thing; he pours the entire cup straight down in the exact same spot without spreading it out at all.

Customer: “Not enough butter!”

Me: “Sir, trust me, if you move the cup back and forth, you’ll see it should evenly coat the popcorn, but I’ll give you another one.”

I hand the customer a third butter, and he does the exact same thing yet again.

Customer: “NOT ENOUGH BUTTER!”

This repeats several more times. I’m practically pleading with the customer to spread the butter out and telling him he’s probably using way too much, and he keeps defiantly pouring the butter into the exact same spot over and over again. Finally, he leaves the concession stand, fuming that we were being “cheapskates” who “wouldn’t give him enough butter!” At the end of the movie, he comes back.

Customer: “Look what you made me do! I couldn’t eat all my popcorn because of you! You gave me too much butter!”

He holds up his popcorn tub, and the bottom of the tub looks like butter soup. There’s way too much butter pooled and a lot of popcorn just sort of floating around in it.

Me: “Well, sir, as I said, the cups were measured out to be about enough to cover a large popcorn if you drizzle it over the top evenly.”

Customer: “But there wasn’t enough to do that! You weren’t giving me enough butter!”

Me: “You just told me I gave you too much butter.”

Customer: “Because you did!”

He stood there arguing for a good minute, alternating between accusing me of not giving him enough butter, and giving him too much butter. Finally, he stormed off.

I like to knit and crochet during the year, and then I give the scarves and hats that I make to my aunt’s church; they organise parties for really low-income families. These parties are filled with games and activities for the children. I love helping my aunt during this time, by giving my time and knitting stuff for those less fortunate.

My brother recently started dating this girl, and to be kind, and honest, I don’t like her. She has trouble understanding personal space, privacy of others, and boundaries. She will insist that you tell her all about private affairs that you don’t want to talk about and will make it her business. She has been constantly trying to get me to date her friends that I’m not interested in. At one point, she thought I was a lesbian because I didn’t like any of the guys that she wanted to set me up with.

When my aunt talked about the church’s plan to still offer help during Christmas despite the health crisis, I told her that I had a lots of scarves and hats to give at home. My aunt was delighted and asked me to bring them to her as soon as possible. I agreed. However, the day I wanted to bring them to her, I was called to come into the office to replace a colleague.

I asked my brother’s girlfriend if she could pick up the bag with the scarves and hats that was sitting at the top of my stairs, not in my living room!

I have a seven-year-old niece who wants to be a police officer like her dad when she grows up and loves the colour pink. The more sickly-sweet pink, the better. She’s a sweet kid who doesn’t ask for much. She asked me to make her a neon hot pink hat and scarf with a white heart. I agreed and had just finished them both and left them in a drawer in my living room. I was planning to wrap them up and give them to my sister later on.

This evening, I came home from work, exhausted. I noticed my brother’s girlfriend had come by and taken the bag. “Oh, great!” I thought. It reminded me of my niece’s gifts.

However, when I went to get them, they were gone. I checked everywhere for them, thinking I had misplaced them. Then, it hit me. Maybe I had put them with the donation bag by mistake. I immediately called my aunt, but she couldn’t find them. There was no neon hot pink scarf or hat with a white heart.

I called my brother’s girlfriend in a panic. She picked up and told me that she had seen the scarf and hat. Oh, thank God, right? Nope! Turns out that my brother’s girlfriend had decided that I hadn’t given enough for charity, so she decided to snoop around my house to find some more. She took four other scarves and hats that were for other people and my niece’s gift. She also decided to rearrange my drawers because they were not clean and organised.

I put my anger on the back burner for a while, because my niece’s gift was more important for now. When I asked my brother’s girlfriend what had happened to it, she responded that she had taken it and given it to her niece because her sister was in need. To say that I was offended and pissed is like saying that fire burns.

I proceed to lose my s*** at her. How dare she? She goes through my stuff, takes my belongings, gives away my gift for my niece, and then she has the gall to give me a lecture on how I should be happy that I helped a spoiled brat who has two parents making seven figures a year? I told her that if the scarf and hat weren’t in my possession by tomorrow night, I was going to sue the s*** out of her. She scoffed and hung up. I called everyone in my family, including my brother.

Twenty minutes ago, my brother’s girlfriend brought me the scarf and hat back and apologised. She was in tears and begged me not to involve my brother-in-law, a cop. My brother-in-law — bless his heart — had swung by her house and threatened to have her arrested for thievery.

I just took my stuff back, thanked her for doing the “right” thing, and closed the door on her. I was so angry at her that I was numb inside.

My niece will have her gift, my aunt has the knitted stuff I made for her church, and my brother is now single. What a day!

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

Read the next Best Of June 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of June 2021 roundup!

My theater has just reopened after being closed due to the health crisis. It’s a very slow day and the rest of the lobby staff has been sent on break while I work the lobby by myself. For the last eight years, my theater has had assigned seating.

An angry-looking man comes in to buy tickets.

Me: *Gesturing to the screen* “All right, sir, let me know where you’d like to sit.”

Customer: *Exploding* “I have to pick my own seat?! This is f****** ridiculous! It wasn’t like this the last time I came in!”

He stands there screaming at me for several moments before he finally picks a seat.

Me: “All right, sir, your total will be $6.”

Customer: *Exploding again* “This is highway robbery! $6 for a movie?! Unbelievable!”

He stands there screaming at me for about thirty seconds over a price I have absolutely no control over until he finally shuts up and pays by literally throwing a wad of $1 bills at me.

Customer: *Still fuming* “I want popcorn! Where do I go for that?!”

Me: “I’ll meet you at the concession stand.”

I walk over to the concession stand. The customer looks at the menu above my head and then looks down at me.

Customer: *Exploding yet again* “Oh, f*** you! I can’t believe you charge so much for snacks!”

Me: “Sir, I don’t set the prices.”

Customer: “I want a manager right now, you a**hole!”

I run to the office and fetch my manager, who ends up standing there and getting screamed at for two minutes straight by this d****ebag, again over prices that are set by corporate and that we have absolutely no control over. My manager leaves, shaking her head.

Unfortunately, corporate has made it repeatedly clear that we’re not allowed to refuse service to customers or ban them despite what they do, so I’m forced to continue the transaction. Despite his fury, he still decides to buy some popcorn and a soda. He literally throws his money at me again.

We used to have self-serve stations for butter, salt, napkins, straws, and soda. However, due to the health crisis, we’ve shut down the self-serve butter stations and now give customers pre-measured cups of butter, along with napkins and salt packets, to avoid having too many people touching the same surfaces. Additionally, we have a staff member whose job is to stand at the soda machines and pour sodas for customers, again to avoid having too many people touching the same surfaces.

I hand the customer some pre-measured butter, salt packets, and napkins.

Me: “Here’s some butter and salt for your popcorn, and some napkins.”

Customer: *Exploding yet again* “I have to put butter on my own popcorn?! You lazy p***k! It’s never, ever been like this! Lazy! When did this bulls*** start?!”

Me: “Sir, we’ve had self-serve butter for over ten years. The only difference now is that we give it to you in cups.”

Customer: “Bulls***! F****** liar!”

The customer notices the salt packets, clutches his chest, and bellows like a banshee.

Customer: “OH, MY GOD! I HAVE TO PUT MY OWN SALT ON?! ARE YOU F****** SERIOUS?! GO TO H***! AND WHERE DO I GET MY F****** SODA?!”

Me: *Completely through with the guy* “I’ll meet you at the soda machines.”

I wander over to the soda machine with his cup.

Me: “What do you want?”

Customer: “I CAN’T POUR MY OWN SODA?! WHAT THE F***?! DO I LOOK LIKE A F****** TODDLER TO YOU?!”

Me: “Sir, you just yelled at me because you have to put your own butter and salt on. Now you’re mad I’m pouring your soda for you?”

Customer: “GO F*** YOURSELF!”

I poured his soda without making any eye contact, shoved it at him, and wandered back to the box office without another word. He then yelled at the ticket-taker for asking to see his ticket. He later came out and demanded our corporate number because he wanted to “report us for being worthless p***ks.” Nothing ever came of it. I genuinely think he was just in a bad mood and wanted to be a jerk to feel better. He got mad about literally every step of the movie-going process.