I have an old, retired mobile phone that I use exclusively for banking. This is because I have noticed that my bank, despite all protestations to the contrary, sells my number to telephone marketing firms. As a result, the ringer is always off and I never check calls. Nobody I care about has this number.

One day, I haul this phone out of the drawer I keep it in and notice dozens of unanswered calls and an equivalent number of text messages, all from the same number. On a whim, I start scanning the messages.

Message #1: “Pick up, please!”

Message #2: “Please pick up; this is very important!”

Message #3: “Could you please call me back immediately? URGENT!”

Message #4: “Answer!”

Message #5: “Call me!”

Message #6: “G**d*** it! Why won’t you pick up?! This is a matter of life and death!”

Message #7: “F*** YOU! This is important!”

Message #8: “Die! Just die! F***er!”

Message #9: “Please call me! VITAL!”

And on and on. There are over 200 messages of varying degrees of desperation, many of which are crude and abusive. Fascinated, I click through to the voicemail and listen to the first message.

Caller: “Hi! This is [Caller] from [Insurance Company]. Are you getting the best deals on your auto insurance? Call me back for a free quote.”

Amazingly, I didn’t call back. The messages continued for several weeks before stopping completely with a final “F*** YOU!

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We have a “No Solicitation” sticker at our doorbell. However, we have noticed quite some people ignore it or try to be witty and say, “I didn’t ring the doorbell.” This guy took the cake, though. 

A guy knocks on the window and, considering his outfit, I have a gut feeling about what this is about. 

Man: “Hello, ma’am. I hope I didn’t startle you.”

Me: “Yes, you did.”

Man: “I am a gardener, and I saw your trees—”

Me: “I know, and we are not interested. We—”

Man: “I love trees, as well! And I would like to offer my services—”

Me: “And we are still not interested.”

Man: “Yes, but your trees—”

Me: “We are not interested. That’s why we have this sticker here.” *Points at the sticker* 

Man: *Glances at the sticker* “I would really—”

Me: “I would like to end the conversation now. We have a ‘No Solicitation’ sticker for a reason.”

Man: “But—”

Me: “I wish you a good day. Goodbye.”

I accidentally close the door louder than intended, and the guy leaves. But still, I considered myself polite enough for someone so disrespectful. 

Husband: “Did you really have to tell him three times before he left?”

Me: “I’m surprised he left at all!”

I then leave for groceries. When I come home, my husband jumps up to greet me. 

Husband: “You’ll never believe this!”

Me: “Believe what?”

Husband: “That gardener returned!”

Me: “What?!”

Husband: “He admitted that he saw you leave and wanted to know my opinion.” 

Me: “And?”

I’m slightly worried because my husband doesn’t know tact at all, even though that gardener does not deserve tact.

Husband: “I said that I would never disrespect my wife and that he had five seconds to buzz off. He tried to talk back, so I just started counting down. Did you know that your counting-down trick does not only work with cats?”

Me: “What would you have done if he had stayed?”

Husband: “Well, the ice machine was just done with a batch of ice cubes…”

It’s nice to know my husband has my back.

I work in a hotel. I arrive at work around 11:00 pm for an audit shift, and as soon as I arrive, my coworkers start giving me the lowdown on the evening, specifically on this one creepy and harassing walk-in guest they had. [Guest] was being inappropriate and creepy to everyone there. He kept asking for things to be specifically “brought into his room” and offering to pay them and “make it worth their while” if you know what I mean. Everyone was like, “Absolutely not,” and he would keep offering them money and whatever.

After they headed out and I was left alone, I was watching the cameras in the back, and I kept seeing [Guest] peeking around on the stairs, trying to find people in the lobby, and then going back up. At one point, I went out to the desk to check someone in, and while I was out there, I saw our little friend poking around in the lobby.

A little while later, I had a food delivery driver come in. He showed me the screen, and it was an order for [Guest].

Driver: “The guy wants his food to be left with you at the desk, but I’ll just take it up to him.”

Me: “Yes, please!”

As soon as the driver got in the elevator, I got a phone call from [Guest].

Guest: “I ordered some food to be left with you so you can bring it up and come into my room.”

He said this in the grossest weird and seductive tone.

Me: “Hi, sir. The delivery driver is actually already on his way to your room with the food.”

His tone switched up real fast, and he just said, “Oh,” and then slammed the phone down.

I spent the rest of the night locked in the back office to avoid any more unwanted interactions with our buddy.

Apparently, he was super creepy while checking out in the morning and wanted to extend, but that was not about to happen! We don’t need any more serial creep incidents.

My partner and I (both male) have been driving across the country to visit his dying mother. We are told on the journey that she didn’t make it through the night, and of course, my partner is devastated.

Exhausted both mentally and physically, and now no longer needing to rush, we pull off the freeway and end up in a cute little restaurant in a small town. We order, we sit, we chat, and at some point, my partner breaks down. I lean in and give him a huge hug to help him through.

Through all this, we haven’t noticed that it’s Sunday midday, and the restaurant is filling up with an after-church crowd. As I am consoling my mourning partner, I hear:

Customer: “Disgusting! Get that s*** out of here!”

I look up to see the father of a family, all in their Sunday best, staring at our little booth from their table.

Customer: “My family doesn’t need to see s*** like that!”

Normally, I am not one to suffer homophobes, but I am exhausted, and the last thing my partner needs is a scene, so I call the waitress over.

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am. Please cancel our breakfast orders. We’ll just pay for our coffees and go.”

Customer: “D*** right! Get out of here you f****** [slur]s!”

The waitress turns on her heel and stares down at the customer with a gaze of fire.

Waitress: “You shut that mouth of yours, Horace! These two gentlemen have done nothing to you!”

Customer: “They’re doing that stuff in front of my kids! I don’t care who they bang, but leave my kids out of it!”

Waitress: “Who spoke about ‘banging’ anyone, Horace? Why are you so obsessed with the sex lives of gay men?”

Customer: “I’m not! I just want to have a nice Sunday lunch with my family without having to see that!“

Me: “Ma’am, I appreciate what you’re doing, but we’ve had a long night, and we really would just like to pay for our coffees and go.”

Customer: “Yeah, get out of here, groomers!”

The waitress puts her hand up and gives me a reassuring wink.

Waitress: “Horace, as far as I can tell, these nice gentlemen have just sat down and had a hug. You’ve just come out of a Catholic church. Are you sure you want to start accusing people of being groomers?”

Customer: “Stop twisting the facts!”

Waitress: “Stop bothering other customers who are literally doing nothing to you! You either apologize or you get out and you’re not welcome back!”

Customer: “You can’t do that! You don’t own this diner!”

Waitress: “Maybe not, but [Diner Owner] has been wanting to ban you for years, and you’re about to give me the excuse to do it!”

The father stares in silent rage but stands up and snaps his fingers at his family to all leave with him. As he’s leaving…

Customer: “I’ll tell the entire church about this! You won’t get any of our business!”

Waitress: “You promise?”

He storms out, and the waitress turns to us.

Me: “You really didn’t have to do that; I really hope you’re not losing business because of us.”

Waitress: “Honey, trust me; it’s the business we can afford to lose. You found us off the freeway, didn’t you? Plenty of other folks do. You look like you need a hearty breakfast and a calm minute or two. Let me get those for you.”

It ended up being an amazing breakfast! We drove that route twice more over the next couple of weeks as we organized and attended my partner’s mom’s funeral, and we stopped in that diner there and back each way.

Thanks to that waitress for being an ally in a moment when we really needed one! 

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I work in a restaurant where lunch is served from 11:00 am until 5:00 pm. I inherited a table of two men from the lunch server when dinner service started at 5:30. They had been there for two hours maximum, and they had only been drinking — no food or water. The lunch server said they were drunk and the guy in seat one had asked if she’d go home with him. (She’s a lesbian, but it’s cute that you think you have a chance.)

I checked their bill, and they’d already racked up $200 with just cocktails. They started drinking doubles, so there were a lot of drinks on the bill. For each double cocktail, my restaurant makes us order two drinks and add modifications: “DOUBLE” on one and “DON’T MAKE” on the other. Your $15 cocktail is now $30. Good job.

I checked on the men, introduced myself, and asked if they needed anything else. Their doubles were half-full. They asked for a dinner menu, and I dropped it off.

A few minutes later, I saw them asking one of my bussers a question. I headed over, and the guy in seat one asked me about one of our menu items. We listed which farms supplied us with certain items on the menu, and he thought the name was hilarious. Whatever.

Then, he asked for another round.

Me: “Sir, you’ll both need to drink some water before I serve you alcohol again.”

Customer: “No! We’re Danish, and Danes don’t drink water!”

Me: “Sir, you’ve both had six drinks each.”

They denied that. I showed them the bill, explaining how we charge for doubles. They denied ever having doubles, even though they were drinking out of pints. Our standard pours are never in pints.

I found a manager and explained what happened. The manager told the men what I had told them, and they were upset that we were kicking them out. We never kicked them out; we just told them to order some water and maybe bread.

They left $213 for a $215 bill.

Thanks, a**holes. Thankfully, I’m not responsible for the two dollars.