My uncle named one of his first sows (bought after his first marriage ended) after his ex-wife.

A bunch of mutual “friends” went to tell her and got her worked up that he was insulting her to people. She called him in tears because their divorce truly was very friendly; they just married much too young and grew apart. (He was even a groomsman at her second marriage, and she was his second and so far only other wife’s matron of honor because she introduced them, although the introduction happened years after the sow incident.)

Uncle: “I didn’t mean it as an insult! I named the other two sows [His Mother] and [His Stepmother]. All three of you are fierce and amazing moms, and I wanted to give my cute little sow piglets someone to live up to.”

Apparently, when [Ex-Wife] met her namesake, she was so charmed (and the sow named after her was a darling) that she forgave him immediately for naming a pig after her.

Oh, and his current wife also has a piggy namesake, chosen for being a golden pig and my auntie being a natural blonde. (She is also a fierce mama in her own right; she once reduced some busybody to tears when they implied to her youngest stepson that she wouldn’t love him once she had “her own” child. She did it without raising her voice, but the TONE was pretty scathing, I’m told.)

CONTENT WARNING: Domestic Violence (mentioned), Stalking, Threats Of Violence

One of my coworkers left a bad relationship, moving far away. A man calls the store.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. This is [My Name], how can I help you today?”

Caller: “[Former Coworker].”

Me: “Sorry?”

Caller: “Get me [Former Coworker].”

Me: “We don’t have anyone by that name, sir. Could you be mistaken?”

Caller: “No. I know she works there. Get her on the phone.”

Me: “Sorry, we don’t have any employees named [Former Coworker].”

Caller: “Look, I’m just trying to find my friend, okay? I’m friends with her husband. Just get her on the phone.”

Me: “Perhaps you should call her husband, then.”

Caller: “Get [Former Coworker] on the f****** phone right f****** now, or I will come down there and beat the f*** out of you!”

Me: “I can’t get someone who isn’t here. If there’s nothing else, sir, have the day you deserve.”

I hung up the phone and documented the number. I called [Former Coworker] to tell her what had happened. It was her ex-husband on the phone, trying to track her down. She thanked me for not giving up her information and apologized for his behavior. He never came to the store to beat the f*** out of me, though.

Related:
Call… The… Police, Part 4
Call… The… Police, Part 3
Call… The… Police, Part 2
Call… The… Police!

My husband and I recently quietly divorced, but we have agreed to remain friends and co-parent our teenage child.

At the next Christmas dinner, my hyper-religious aunt waits until everyone is seated to ask why we aren’t wearing our wedding rings. Our son looks uncomfortable and I am ready to slap her into next week, but [Ex-Husband] puts his hand over mine and squeezes gently.

Ex-Husband: “We don’t want to.”

Aunt: “Why?”

Ex-Husband: “Because we choose not to.”

Aunt: “But why? Unless you divorced and didn’t tell anyone, you should wear your rings!”

She gives me a triumphant look as if she has caught me in some big lie and she is just waiting for me to confess. We have told people; we just haven’t made a big deal out of it given the reason for our divorce. [Ex-Husband] has a death grip on my fist now, willing me to be quiet and still.

Ex-Husband: “We did divorce, [Aunt].”

Aunt: “Sinners! You know our Lord and Savior does not allow divorce!”

I laugh.

Aunt: *In an over-dramatic tone* “How can you be laughing? Why would you stray so far from the Lord? A divorce! What could be so bad that you could not mend your marriage?”

Ex-Husband: “Well, we both like men.” *Looks down the table* “Can somebody pass the cranberry sauce?”

[Aunt] looked like she would faint on the spot. The meal carried on with [Aunt] glaring at us every once in a while. She hasn’t said a word to me or [Ex-Husband] in years. Honestly, it’s quite nice.

At the store where I used to work, I was the one who usually went to the service desk to sign off on returns. This was basically because I was the one who was willing to do it, but also because I didn’t mind looking things over.

One day, I had a return on a Nintendo DS. It had no scuffs or anything, and everything else looked good… except that the box said there should be two styli, and I only found the one in the slot on the back of the device. Maybe the DS could’ve been damaged out, but since I had never been told otherwise, I told both the customer service representative and the customers that I couldn’t accept the return.

A coworker swung by electronics later to talk to me.

Coworker: “You ought to have someone walk you out when you leave. After you walked away from those customers with the DS, I heard them saying they were going to ‘get you’ later.”

As luck would have it, an ex-turned-friend came by to look at video games before my shift was over. I told him what happened, and he didn’t just WALK me to my car when the time came; he CARRIED me like he did when we were dating.

I imagine the angry customers were long gone, but if they weren’t, they sure got quite a show!

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.”