In July 2016, my friend and I were visiting another friend’s house to drop off a birthday present and arrange a birthday celebration dinner for later in the evening.

We just so happened to have a dog with us, a Bichon Frisé by the name of Rocky and, unfortunately, we had to park on the street because there were no visitor stalls.

Upon realizing we didn’t have a leash in the car, I volunteered to stay in the car with the dog so my friend could safely leave the ignition on to run the air conditioning. While he went off and did the tasks we arrived for, I dozed off, only to be awoken by a woman rapping against my window as hard as she could muster with her ring hand.

I wound down the window.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Woman: “You can’t leave a dog in a car like this! How dare you?! I have half a mind to call the police!”

Me: “What? Ma’am, I am in the car with him and the air conditioning is running. Do you not hear the engine?”

Woman: “DON’T SASS ME! THIS IS ANIMAL CRUELTY!”

Me: “The air conditioner is on, ma’am. And I am in the vehicle; the animal isn’t unattended.”

Woman: “IT DOESN’T MATTER!”

Me: “It really does, actually.”

Woman: “What is your name? Where do you live?!”

Me: “Who the h*** are you to be asking me questions like that?”

Woman: “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!”

Me: “Yeah, and I don’t care.”

I started to wind the window up but she put her hand on it so I released the switch. (I didn’t know if a 2009 Nissan could remove fingers.) 

Woman: “I asked you who you are! I am going to report you for animal cruelty!”

She proceeded to slam her hand on the roof of the car. 

At this point, I opened the door and got out of the car. At six feet even and about 270 pounds, I was far above her size in every measurable sense.

Me: “I suggest you jog on because if anyone is going to call the police, it’s going to be me, and I can guarantee you their response will not be in your favor.”

She stared up at me for a moment before hustling away. 

About twenty minutes later, my friend came back with apologies for taking so long. 

Friend: “Sorry, did I miss anything?”

Me: “Nah.”

I recently retired from teaching, and this is the story that sticks out the most to me. This story starts in 2018 and ends in 2020. Our school makes a yearly trip with the fifth-grade class to the Honolulu Zoo. Elementary school ends at the fifth year here, so it’s kind of seen as a send-off from elementary to middle school.

In 2018, I receive a call from a parent who has one child in our fifth-grade year and another in our third.

Mother: “Hello. I was wondering how to get my daughter in [Third-Grade Teacher]’s class in on the zoo field trip with her brother?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but the zoo trip is only for the fifth-grade class. We don’t allow any additions aside from chaperoning adults.”

Mother: “No, they are siblings.”

Me: “Yes, but your daughter is in third grade. She’s not eligible for the trip.”

Mother: “But they are siblings.”

Me: “I know, but the class trip is only for fifth-graders.”

Mother: “No, they both have to go.”

Me: “Sorry, but it’s only for the fifth-grade class. Your daughter will be eligible for the trip in two years.”

Mother: “But they are siblings! You have to treat them the same!”

Me: “We will. Your son waited for fifth grade, and your daughter needs to, as well.”

Mother: “No! She is going!”

Me: “No, she is not.”

Mother: “Yes, she is!”

Me: “No, she isn’t.”

Mother: “I am their mother! I decide what happens with them!”

Me: “Not in my classroom.”

Mother: “How dare you?!”

Me: “Would you like to speak with the principal?”

Mother: “YES!”

I transfer the line, and she ends up getting into an hour-long argument with the principal of our school. Her daughter is offered a place on the field trip, but only if the mother comes as a chaperone, which we need. The woman refuses and yells obscenities at the principal. In return, she is told in no uncertain terms that she is free to take her children to the zoo herself, and if she keeps pushing the matter, she will be.

Two years later, in 2020, I am at home and my phone rings at 7:00 pm. 

Me: “Hello?”

Mother: “What the f*** is going on with the zoo trip?!”

Me: “Excuse me? Who is this?”

Mother: “You said my daughter would be allowed to go to the zoo when she got to fifth grade!”

Me: “Ma’am, the zoo is closed.”

Mother: “I don’t f****** care. You said she would be able to go.”

Me: “And now she can’t because of the GLOBAL [HEALTH CRISIS]!”

Mother: “Don’t you dare raise your v—”

Me: “Shut the f*** up.”

Mother: “Exc—”

Me: “Shut the f*** up!”

Mother: “…”

Me: “You call me three hours past office hours — on my home phone — and you think you can swear at me and get your way?!”

Mother: “I—” 

Me: “Well, guess what? This isn’t a recorded line, b****, so shut the f*** up and pull your head out of your f****** a**. I can’t control [illness], and I can’t control the zoo. If you are stupid enough not to understand that, then we should be enrolling you in your daughter’s class.”

Mother: “I… I… I—”

I slammed the phone down so hard that I cracked the body of the receiver. 

This was at the end of the school year for 2020, and I was one week from retiring. 

I didn’t mention a word of this to anyone. I felt bad about it when it happened, but looking back, I would do it again.

This story is part of our Even-More-Highest-Voted-Stories-Of-2023-(so far!) roundup!

Read the next story!

Read the roundup!

At my very first job, we used to have a girl who did bank runs, taking the cash from any cash transactions that we had over to the local bank in a deposit bag, where she would sometimes use what is known as a Night Drop.

One day, [Coworker] went out to do the deposit. Then, she was supposed to come back to help me close the store for the day. This left me to clean, because the walk to the bank was a bit of a distance — our town was very safe, so she had no worries about doing this on foot — and it normally took her a while to get to and from the location.

About twenty-five minutes later, [Coworker] called me and apologized, telling me that she would be late coming back because she had to call EMS to the bank. When she came back, I asked her what had happened, and the story unfolded as such.

[Coworker] arrived at the bank, but there was already someone using the Night Drop, so she waited. While she was standing there, a very good friend of hers saw her at the branch, parked his car, and got in line behind her without her noticing.

Once the other person left, [Coworker]’s friend put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Give me all the money!” You know… as a joke…

Well, [Coworker] whipped around and belted her friend in the face with the deposit bag. Now, this is a vinyl sack with some bills in it, so it didn’t do any damage but it did scare him, which caused him to jump back. As he jumped back, his foot rolled, and he fell down and knocked himself unconscious on a handrail.

[Coworker] had to call EMS, and the police also arrived to take statements and get an idea of what had happened. They agreed that [Coworker]’s friend was an idiot.

In order to prevent him from having to pay impound fees and such, [Coworker] asked the police if she could take his car. I’m not sure what conversation she had with them, but it ended in a “yes”, and she was able to drive back to our shop and then pick her friend up at the hospital the next afternoon when he was released from observation.

The best part was that I got like an hour of overtime because I couldn’t leave the shop unsecured since I wasn’t a keyholder.

My old job was at an abandoned naval munitions storage facility turned industrial storage facility in the Lower Valley on Oahu. The property had been built and activated sometime in the 30s and abandoned in the 90s, so there were always things to find whether onsite or through information requests to the library of congress.

The coolest thing came to us through the hands of a tenant though: two entire bunkers of arcade machines, prizes, and karaoke equipment.

Keeping in mind that each bunker is roughly four thousand square feet and they were packed, wall to wall and floor to ceiling.

While I can’t discuss how or why this became something that I, as the head of security, became involved in, it took us the better part of two years to empty the bunkers and sort through everything.

We found everything from wooden arcades from the 1940’s to DDR, as well as a massive circular imported Super Mario game that was sectional, and, when fully assembled was about seven feet tall and five feet wide. Throughout the process, we would bring a generator, power up arcades, and play for a little while at a time.

Eventually, everything got sold, but it was a fun time, one of my favorite eras of the valley!

Today is a windy day. A coworker and I are putting up flyers for a building event. We have quite a few in a small box, one for each elevator lobby, each exterior door, etc. I partially tape one flyer on the front door while my coworker and I chat idly, and as I go for the tape to complete the flyer, an employee from another office cuts in with a hasty, “Excuse me, sorry,” and throws the door open all the way to go outside.

The wind pushes into the lobby, ripping the flyer I have been putting up off the glass and sending the rest of them shooting out of the box across God’s creation.

The employee just trots away without addressing the chaos she has just unleashed because she didn’t want to wait a literal fraction of a second for me to put down the second piece of tape. It’s worth noting that only six feet to the right there is another set of doors.

Coworker: “I hate people.” 

Me: “Understandable.”