We have a guest who regularly stays with us on business trips and for occasional weekends with his wife. We know she is his wife as during those stays she is always booked in under her name (same last name as his), and one time she paid to have a forgotten item returned to the same address as the named guest, authorized as his wife.

When he stays on weekdays on business trips, he will sometimes bring a lady friend up to the room with him. Usually, all guests have to be registered, but because he is a super shiny platinum member and his affairs are none of our business, we don’t press him on the matter.

At least, not until recently.

The guest is also an absolute jerk. He is rude and entitled, and his platinum member status makes him think he can say whatever he wants to us and get everything he asks for without giving a crap who he offends or how many bellhops he makes cry.

I am checking him in again today for a business trip.

Me: “Welcome back, Mr. [Guest]. I see you’re staying for two nights in our deluxe king room?”

Guest: “What? No upgrade? Platinum members automatically get upgrades.”

Me: “Yes, but those are subject to availability. Unfortunately, we are fully booked this week.”

Guest: “Then bump someone on a lower loyalty tier than me. Platinum deserves upgrades.”

Me: “Again, sir, upgrades are not guaranteed and are subject to availability. I cannot upgrade you for this stay.”

Guest: “Listen here, you [slur for Hispanic people]. I don’t know if it’s because your English is s*** or you’re a [slur for disabled people], but I am platinum status! Pla… ti… num! That means I tell you what I want and you get it for me!”

Me: “Sir, I am from this country, and I am understanding you just fine. It is you who is not understanding me. I have no available room to upgrade you to.”

Guest: “How dare you?! You think you can talk back to me like that and get away with it? Get me your manager! You’re so fired!”

I call the manager, and even though he explains the same thing I did, the message is still not going through. This a**-hat actually logs into our online portal on his phone to check for rooms for this evening.

Guest: “Ha! See! You have a suite available to book for tonight!“

Manager: “That is the Presidential Suite, sir, which is excluded from the free upgrade system.”

Guest: “You will upgrade me, or you will be getting a scathing letter from corporate and I will have both of your jobs.”

My manager has access to the booking system for the Presidential Suite, which is actually available — but for $20,000 a night. My manager calls the district manager, explains the situation, and reluctantly lets this d**k-wad have the room.

Guest: *Smugly* “See? I always get my way. Remember that for next time if you’re still lucky enough to be working here.”

For the next two nights, this guest sneered at us as he went in and out, parading his victory in our faces, and even more so when his “lady friend” visited on the second night.

After he checked out, housekeeping found some lingerie bottoms and a stick of lipstick. They noted their findings as it was obvious that they were expensive and from designer brands. They were placed in a sealed container — still underwear, gross!

Normal procedure would be to call the guest to alert them that items were found in their room after checkout and to arrange a delivery to return them. This time, however, I was able to contact the guest’s wife directly, thanks to her details as co-guest being on his account.

She was very surprised to hear that she had left some extra sexy lingerie and expensive lipstick in her room this past week, considering it was a business trip and her husband “travelled alone”. She assured me that her husband would be even more surprised when he got home to THAT conversation.

She asked for the items to be sent to her as evidence, and I shipped them next-day delivery, and I sent them free of charge instead of billing her for it — you know, for good customer service.

That guest still comes in on his business trips, but the “lady friend” has disappeared, but interestingly, so has his wedding ring.

Honestly, we didn’t care about the affair. All he had to do was not be an a**hole, but he couldn’t even do that.

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I’m a lawyer. My client and her wife were still living together during the divorce process because neither one of them wanted to give up the house they owned. They had each taken a separate room in the house as their bedroom and did their best to avoid each other.

Unfortunately, one of the many reasons they were getting divorced was that [Client]’s wife had a petty streak a mile wide. [Client] and I applied for a restraining order due to these behaviors:

1. [Client]’s wife would deliberately use almost all of the toilet paper, leaving only a small smidgeon of paper left on the roll, and not replace it.
2. Every time [Client] bought a bag of chips, cookies, or any other snack that was crunchy, her wife would smash the bag without opening it until only dust remained inside. [Client] tried very hard to hide her snacks from her wife, but her wife was almost always able to find them.
3. [Client]’s wife would wait until [Client] was in the middle of some sort of complicated online video game thing and then reboot the router.
4. [Client]’s wife cranked up the heat and AC to frankly uncomfortable levels in the months that it was [Client]’s turn to pay the energy bills. The AC had been set to 40F (4.4C) on at least one occasion we were able to record, and that winter, she set the heat to 97F (36C).
5. When it was [Client]’s turn to empty the kitty litter box, [Client]’s wife would feed the cat in contradiction to the vet’s orders, causing the cat to have messy, unpleasant diarrhea. Her lapses and “forgetting” never occurred when it was her turn to empty the litter box.
6. During a rainstorm, while [Client] and her wife were at their respective places of work, [Client]’s wife drove home during her lunch break and opened all of the windows on [Client]’s half of the house to let the rain into [Client]’s room, especially onto her bed, which [Client] had video evidence of.
7. [Client]’s wife was caught on video licking all of [Client]’s toothbrushes.

And on and on.

All of it was incredibly petty s*** that wasn’t technically illegal since it was so minor and the dollar values involved were so small they were below the relevant thresholds — except for the rainwater thing. We were eventually able to hit her for that one separately.

Unfortunately, due to an earlier case where I got a disabled man his spousal support, the judge hated my guts. He berated me for bringing “this petty nonsense” before him and rejected our petition for a restraining order.

This incident is among those that made me decide to physically move myself cross-state to a different district.

Related:
Won’t Someone Please Think Of The Upper-Class Earners?!

In 1979, I got a call one afternoon at my accounting office from a medical clinic thirty miles west of me.

Clerk #1: “We need a payment on your bill. It is ninety days past due and will be turned over to collections soon if you don’t make a payment.”

Me: “Who was treated at your clinic?”

Clerk #1: “Your wife had an appointment with our OBGYN.”

Me: “And when was this appointment?”

Clerk #1: “In February.”

Me: “Well, that is not my responsibility.”

Clerk #1: “Your wife gave us your name as the responsible party.”

Me: “Well, you see, our divorce was final last December, and I don’t believe I am responsible.”

Clerk #1: “You will need to send us a copy of your divorce decree to clear this up.”

And I complied.

In May, I got a call from a clothing store in a town about fifty miles southwest of me.

Clerk #2: “Sir, you must make a payment on your account.”

Me: “Who are you?”

Clerk #2: “We are [Women’s Clothing Store], and you have an account that is gravely past due.”

Me: “Where are you located?”

Clerk #2: “[Town].”

Me: “And when were these clothes put on my account?”

Clerk #2: “Your wife charged over $500 in clothes in March and listed you, her husband, as the responsible person.”

Me: “Well, gee! I don’t think that is the case since we were divorced last December.”

Clerk #2: “You will need to send us a copy of your divorce decree.”

Me: “Not going to happen. This is not the first time she has done this. It is not my fault you did not check with me before you set this up and let her leave with the clothes. If you want a copy of my divorce, then you call the clerk of the district court in my county and pay for your own copy. That is your responsibility, not mine.”

I had a difficult childhood. Both of my parents were alcoholics, my dad bordered on abusive, and my mom eventually became a crazy cat lady. I went to a school in my county where most of the students were incredibly wealthy and their parents were still married. I was the child of a single mom who received no child support and refused to remarry as many of my classmates’ parents did. Needless to say, I was bullied and tormented on a regular basis. Since then, I have never been comfortable with the wealthy crowd.

I met my ex-husband while working in a restaurant, and later, we had two children. I finally got to go to college in my early twenties, and I eventually became a teacher. In that time, my marriage fell apart. I decided dating wasn’t for me and focused on my kids, coaching, and my career.

While coaching, I run into a former customer from my days working at the restaurant, and he asks me out. I am hesitant because his family is incredibly well-off. I should note that I have PCOS and I’m not skinny despite being very short, so I think I’m unattractive.

I finally agree to date him, and things are going better than I thought. He really likes me, I like him, and frankly, I don’t give a d*** about his money. Even better, our kids get along great and act like they were raised together.

I spend a lot of time trying to avoid the circle of friends he has, worried that I might embarrass him because of my “lack of good breeding,” but he tells me that if his friends can’t accept me, they can stuff it.

On one occasion, [Boyfriend] decides to throw a party at his lakehouse in a gated community. I’m so nervous, it’s ridiculous. I’ve never been in a house this big, let alone to a party like this. I haven’t been to the lakehouse before, but most of his friends have now met me, and they encourage me to come out of my shell and relax.

The night of the party, I walk out after the main guests arrive, shy and still a little worried. I’m still trying to adjust to the new social cues of this crowd. As I walk out of the bedroom toward the table where the food is, I’m stopped by someone who calls my name. It’s a girl I went to high school with.

Classmate: “Hey, [My Name]! Glad to see someone here from the old days! It’s a big house, right? I hear it’s, like, the second biggest in this neighborhood! Anyway, can you get me a new drink?”

I’m a little confused as we have people here to help with food and drinks, and I am not dressed like them. They’re wearing black shirts and slacks, and I’m wearing a white cotton sleeveless dress.

Me: “I’m sorry, [Classmate], but I need to go find [Boyfriend]. Ask one of the people in the black shirts to get you more.”

She doesn’t like that answer and got all huffy. She basically screams the roof down about my poor service.

Classmate: “You need to learn your place!”

And then she throws her partial glass of red wine in my face. This obviously stains my dress and embarrasses me. Remembering all I went through, I bolt out of the room and into the bedroom crying.

My boyfriend apparently finds out what happened and comes into the bedroom looking for me. I tell him my version, and he marches back out and tells [Classmate] she needs to leave. She becomes hysterical.

Classmate: “Why am I being tossed out when that waitress was the rude one who wouldn’t get me a new drink?!”

My boyfriend rolls his eyes.

Boyfriend: “If you had been paying attention, you would’ve noticed that [My Name] entered the party from upstairs, and she exited that way, meaning she isn’t working here. She’s also wearing something completely different from what the people working are wearing.”

Classmate: “You know, most rich men pick someone more attractive than [My Name] with an actual figure!”

Boyfriend: “If you mean someone like you, I’ll pass. Spoiled women hung up on their looks are plentiful. I would rather have someone who loves me and knows how to have a good time.”

Several people later assured me that [Classmate] knew good and well who I was and that I wasn’t working. She was just mad because [Boyfriend] never paid her any mind.

Is it any wonder I said yes to this man?

CONTENT WARNING: Pregnancy Termination/Fetal Death

I work as a lawyer for a major hospital. I see a lot of malpractice cases. This one made me lose some faith in humanity.

A woman arrived at the hospital with symptoms indicative of ectopic pregnancy. This was bad mojo. The choice was to remove the fetus, or the woman and fetus would both die. She consented to the treatment.

Unfortunately, during the post-surgery observational period, the woman developed internal bleeding. It was determined that the optimal treatment was a hysterectomy. The woman already had several children, and she consented to the treatment. She survived.

It turned out that she and her husband belonged to a “Quiverfull” church. Her husband sued us for failure to involve him in her medical decisions and for performing a hysterectomy.

Fortunately, I was able to prove to the court’s satisfaction that the hysterectomy was medically necessary and that the woman had consented to the treatment.

The man was unable to prove that he was legally required to have any say at all in the treatment, other than the fact that she was his wife.

I didn’t think I would hear about the case again, but a few months later, I got a request for documents about it as the man was divorcing his wife for being unable to provide him with further children.

I hope the f***er lost everything in his divorce.