(I’m an overweight woman who has always struggled with weight due to a non-functioning thyroid. I struggle to find a store that caters to larger brides until I find this one, so I go to see what they have. There’s a large woman (probably about 5’5 and 350-380 pounds) on the stage in the center of the room having a fitting done. I’m browsing the catalogs when I hear an exchange between a daughter and her mother and the manager. The daughter is a thin girl who appears spoiled with how she talks. The daughter is staring at the larger woman on the stage, and leans in to her mother.)

Daughter: “I can’t believe someone like her is actually getting married!”

Mother: “I didn’t think whales mated for life!”

(The bride-to-be has clearly heard the comments and is looking devastated. She takes a step away from the manager who is doing the fitting, but the manager stops her and walks up to the mother and daughter.)

Manager: “I can’t believe you think you’re going to get a dress from my store.”

Daughter: “Well, joke’s on you, then, because I’m actually here to pick it up! Besides, I’ve already paid.”

Manager: “Oh, you’re picking up your order? What’s the name?”

Mother: “It’s [Name].”

Manager: “All right…”

(The manager goes behind the counter, taps some things on the register, and then hands a receipt.)

Manager: “I need you to sign this.”

Mother: “What’s this?”

(The mother signs anyway.)

Manager: “That’s you signing that you have accepted a full refund for your purchase. You can find another store to get your dresses at. I just cancelled your order and am refusing you service. Now leave before I call the police.”

Daughter: “YOU CAN’T DO THIS! MY WEDDING IS IN NEXT WEEK! HOW DARE YOU!”

(The daughter starts throwing things around.)

Mother: “We had those dresses custom-made! How could you cancel her order?! Look at her!”

Manager: “I cancelled the order because I am not going to let any bride feel like she’s not worthy of marriage just because of her size. Clearly, you both feel that you are better than others, and I have no place for clients that are, frankly, a**-holes. I’m calling the police, and since I still have your card information, I’m going to charge you for whatever damages your daughter causes.”

(The manager picked up the phone. The mother grabbed her daughter and they rushed out of the door. I ended up buying my dress from them, and it was BEAUTIFUL! Turned out the manager had a daughter who had a severe thyroid disease and had struggled with weight as well!)

This story is part of the Wedding roundup!

Read the next Wedding roundup story!

Read the Wedding roundup!

(It’s mid-September. I’m helping my parents with their haunted house by working in the concessions stand. For the past few years, a customer has gone through and come back out blackened and bruised,, and sues us, claiming one of our actors hit him. Due to lack of evidence he has never won a case, but the trials themselves drain away anywhere from $500-$1000 of our income. We banned him the year before, but this year he comes back and we’re sure it’s to try his scam again. The cashier is new and doesn’t know his face, so she goes ahead and sells him a ticket. After that he walks up to the stand where my coworker and I are.)

Customer: “Man, just starting the season, and you guys are already this busy? I bet you’ll be rich before the year is over.”

Coworker: “Yeah… I get a feeling not as much as we should, since you’re here.”

Customer: “Aw, come on; I can’t help it that your employees are all brutes and bullies. Anyway, I’m going to go ahead and go in. Take care!”

(My coworker looks ready to call security; I tap her on the shoulder and shake my head, watching as the man goes through.)

Coworker: “Why did you do that? You know what he’s going to do.”

(I give my best slasher smile.)

Me: “We bought security cameras this year.”

(Sure enough, he made another attempt at his scam. The camera caught him goading an actor into attacking him, and when they didn’t fall for it, he walked out of sight of people but still where cameras were. He bashed his arm and head against the wall until he bruised. When he tried to sue, we let him take to us to court and showed the camera footage. The case was dropped immediately, and we counter-sued him for roughly three times the cost of being taken to court, very nearly making up all the money he had scammed out of us in the years past.)

This story is part of our Haunted Houses roundup!

Read the next Haunted Houses roundup story!

Read the Haunted Houses roundup!

This story is part of our Scammer roundup!

Want to read the next story? Click here!

Want to see the roundup? Click here!

(I’m a piano tuner in a sparsely populated area in the rural west. The phone rings.)

Me: “Hello, [My Name] piano service.”

Caller: “Do you tune pianos?”

Me: “Yes, I do. I also do all kinds of repairs, as well as complete restorations. The only thing I don’t do is moving.”

Caller: “Great! What’s the total cost for a tuning?”

Me: “I need some more information to give you a price. Do you know how long since it’s been tuned?”

Caller: “Well, we live on a ranch on long way from nowhere, and it’s been here since before 1900, so for sure at least that long. Our family has never spoken to a piano tuner before.”

Me: “Wow! That’s a really long time! I’m honored! So, do all the keys go up and down, and does each key make a sound?”

Caller: “Yes, we checked, and it actually doesn’t sound that bad. Out of tune, of course, but everything works.”

Me: “Great! You mentioned being on a ranch. How far from [City I’m in] are you?”

Caller: “We’re 25 miles outside of [Town of 500 people, 200 miles away], on a gravel road that goes through a mountain pass. Well, actually, you have to cross the entire mountain range to get here. We own an entire valley.”

(I look up their location on Google maps, calculate the driving fee, and give them a price for a service package.)

Caller: “That’s a very fair price! Sold! But you don’t do the moving? Is there a mover you usually recommend?”

Me: “Yes, I have a favorite mover. Wait. ‘The’ moving? I’m not sure I follow. Oh, you’re moving it somewhere else before I tune it? I could contact my mover, tell them your location, and get a price, and get back to you.”

Caller: “Wait, what? Now I’m confused. We like your price on the tuning, but now we need to add the costs of the moves to know the total price?”

Me: “Moves? You’re moving it more than once? Am I tuning it, then it gets moved, and I tune it again? Is this all at once, or separate jobs? Now I’m lost!”

Caller: “Do you actually do this very often? We’d think you’d have the procedures and costs all worked out by now.”

Me: “I’m so sorry, but I’m not following you at all. Let’s start over. Where is it getting moved TO?”

Caller: “How would we know that? Are you being a smart-a**?”

Me: “What?”

Caller: “Where do you live?”

Me: “Why would you need to know that? Are you threatening me?”

Caller: “We DON’T need to know! And of COURSE we’re not threatening you! But YOU asked where it was getting moved to. For Christ’s sake!”

Me: *lightbulb goes off* “You want to move the piano to where I am?”

Caller: “Of course! How else are you going to tune it?”

(I am in stunned silence. In my entire career, no one has ever thought they had to deliver the piano to ME to have it tuned, and then have it moved back to their house.)

Caller: “Hello? Are you there?”

Me: “Yes. I’m here. I see the misunderstanding now. Piano tuners always drive to where the piano is, no matter how far away, and tune the piano where it is. The piano does not have to be brought to me. Pianos are NEVER brought TO the tuner. Tuners always go TO the piano. The price I gave you includes me driving all the way out there to your ranch and back home, staying at a motel if I have to, gas, tax, and the work I’ll do; everything is included. There’s no need for a mover at all.”

(There is a prolonged silence before they continue.)

Caller: “We’re really not as stupid as you probably think we are right now. Really. No one here has the slightest idea what a piano tuner does, or how they do it, or what it costs. We’ve just been raising cattle for five generations out here, see, and… Oh, Christ.”

(I hear several people in the background start to laugh. I can’t help it and start laughing, too. We’re all choking on laughter over the phone for at least a minute.)

Caller: “That’s a h*** of a long drive, so how about we get the guesthouse ready so you can stay overnight? Is cash okay? Do you like steak? What would you like for breakfast? If you like fishing we have miles of private streams. Bring a friend if you want; nothing but room up here!”

(I ended up with more value in free-range gourmet steaks and wild trout packed in a huge ice chest, than my entire tuning package fee!)

This story is part of our celebration of Not Always Right publishing over 100,000 stories!

This story is included in the roundup of Not Always Right stories to toast this achievement!

<< Previous Story  |  Roundup  |  Next Story >>

(I’m waiting in line behind a woman who is speaking on her cellphone in another language. Ahead of her is a white man. After the woman hangs up, he speaks up.)

Man: “I didn’t want to say anything while you were on the phone, but you’re in America now. You need to speak English.”

Woman: “Excuse me?”

Man: *very slow* “If you want to speak Mexican, go back to Mexico. In America, we speak English.”

Woman: “Sir, I was speaking Navajo. If you want to speak English, go back to England.”

This story is part of our Native-American roundup.

Want to read the next story? Click here!

Want to read the roundup? Click here!

(It’s a particularly cold evening. I’m chatting with a regular while filling his tank.)

Regular: “It’s so cold today; you know what you should do?”

Me: “What?”

Regular: “You should take a barrel, put it in the middle of the pumps, fill it with wood, then light it up to warm the place.”

Me: “…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Regular: “Why not?”

Me: “Because I don’t want to die.”