I am one of the “long [contagious illness]” sufferers, which means for the past year since having a particular virus, I still get heavily fatigued, shortness of breath, and a slew of other symptoms. This has granted me a two-year disability-accessible parking permit. I own numerous collector cars and tend to drive them almost every day, weather permitting. The car I am driving today was my JZX 100 Chaser which I imported from Japan and have heavily modified into a drift car.

On my way home today, my wife calls asking if I mind picking up a few things for dinner. Of course, I have no problems doing so. I stop at a shopping center not far from my home and see two accessible parking spaces next to each other and back into the further of the two from the store. I go into the store using a cane and collect the groceries that were asked for.

Upon exiting the store, I notice a police car parked in the lane directly in front of my car, my permit hanging in my window, and a woman talking with the officer. With my cane hanging on the push handle of the cart, I approach, leaning my body weight on said cart.

Me: “Is everything okay here?

Woman: “Who do you think you are, parking in a disability spot?”

I hold up my cane.

Woman: “No disabled person would drive this car! You’re faking it and probably made that placard at home.”

Officer: *Finally butting in* “Ma’am, the placard and tag on the vehicle come back to the same name. Sir, may I see your driver’s license?”

Me: “No problem.”

I produce my license, and the officer looks it over.

Officer: “Sorry for bothering you. Have a nice afternoon.”

Woman: “What?! You can’t just let him go! This piece of s*** needs to be towed now!”

Yes, she called my baby a piece of s***.

Officer: “Ma’am, even if this gentleman didn’t have the right to park there, we would just ticket the car, not tow it.”

Woman: “I demand to speak to your sergeant! SER-GEANT!”

Officer: “No, ma’am, there is no reason for me to call my sergeant out here. Please continue on with your shopping.”

The officer bid us both good day as the woman scoffed and shuffled off.

The officer and I exchanged an awkward “What the f*** was wrong with her?” type of laugh as he shrugged and got back into his car. As the officer was pulling away, I started to put the groceries into the back seat of my car. (The car actually has a hood on it, and the hood was a custom order from a high-quality carbon fiber manufacturer, including custom drilling for the hood exit exhaust, which cost $3,200.)

As I finished putting groceries into my car, I heard a loud, repetitive banging noise. I looked up and saw the same entitled woman now with a HAMMER banging on the hood of my car, knocking out one of my headlights, and dinging up the front bumper. Before I could even shove her away from the car, she managed to completely crack the hood, causing it to splinter from end to end.

I shoved the woman so hard that when she hit the ground on her back, she rolled a** over elbows and ended up facing stomach down. She stood up screaming absolute murder. A coworker as well as two customers of the store happened to witness everything and came running to restrain the woman. After realizing she couldn’t attack me with the hammer, the woman called the police AGAIN. I couldn’t hear much of the phone call, but I will not lie; I was a bit worried about a possible assault charge.

Less than five minutes later, the same officer arrived, as well as two additional units. The officer ordered me into a pat down, and I complied. Then, he handcuffed me. All the while, the woman was screaming about me assaulting her. The officer noticed the damage on the front of my car and asked what happened. I explained that this absolute nutter had just teed off with a hammer on it unprovoked moments after he left. The woman denied this entirely, stating that she had only hit the hood of the car once because she had missed hitting me.

Luckily, I remembered that I have some really fancy cameras on this car, which included a dash cam that captures video any time there is motion. I explained this to the officer and told him I could pull it up on my phone. The officer uncuffed me while the woman was screaming at him to take me to jail, clearly realizing that she was in deep s***.

Not only did this amazing camera catch everything in 1080p, but it also recorded all of the sound, including my “What the f***?!” when i realized what was happening. It showed me topple this woman across the parking lot as she drew back to swing the hammer AT ME! (I hadn’t noticed this at the time.)

The woman was immediately handcuffed. She resisted and even spat on one of the other officers. Obviously, I said I wanted to press charges.

The woman is facing four charges: felony destruction of property, felony assault, assault on an officer, and resisting arrest. Luckily, the officer allowed me to drive the car home (roughly two miles) while he followed me, and it is now sitting in my garage. I am writing this as I sit on hold with my insurance agent. I plan to file a civil suit against the woman, as well.

Always invest in a decent dash camera because people are absolutely insane.

This story is part of the Readers’-Favorite-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

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I am partially deaf and have been since I was born. When I worked in retail, I would always put a hard-of-hearing badge on my lanyard so that customers would know to speak louder. At this time, I was working as a cashier at a store where we had to ask customers if they wanted a store card.

Me: “Do you want a store card today?”

Customer: *Unintelligible*

I didn’t even hear that he had said something and, due to masks, I could not read lips, so I just continued to look at him, waiting for a response.

Customer: “I said no! How hard is that?! What’s wrong with you? Are you f****** deaf or something? Are you stupid?”

I moved my hair a bit to ensure that he could see my very visible pin.

Me: “Yes, sir. I am deaf; I didn’t hear you.”

He looked very guilty. His wife, who was appalled by his behavior, immediately slapped him on the back of the head.

Customer’s Wife: “You idiot! This is why I want a divorce!”

I work for an STD clinic, and I am handling intake. A guy comes up after having filled out a form. I run through some basics and then hand him a vial. I get the impression he just wants to get this over with, but he nods that he understands.

Me: “Please use one of the rooms to your left, place the vial with the sample inside the secured bag, and place the secured bag in our biological drop-off box.”

He nods and heads off. A few minutes later, he’s back and looks a bit frustrated.

Patient: “You could at least have had some magazines or something! I had to load up some stuff on my phone to finish!”

I am confused for a moment, but then it dawns on me.

Me: “Sir, we needed a urine sample.”

The patient’s brain takes longer than it should to process the information I have just provided.

Patient: “You might not want to use what I just… ah… deposited.”

He came back a few hours later after drinking some water. I found the first sample and… disposed of it.

I used to work at a furniture store. One day, I had horribly bad luck, and my bank account got hacked and all my money went missing (that’s a saga for another time). Because of the time when I realized stuff was missing, I had to wait until the next day to go to my bank’s branch and take care of the onsite stuff. I’d already been planning on going to work late the next day because I also had a doctor’s appointment.

With everything going on — and the fact that my manager had already made me come in on my day off — I decided I didn’t want to go in the next day at all and deal with my manager and customers.

I go to my manager toward the end of the day.

Me: “Can I take tomorrow as my other day off? I have my appointment in the morning, and then I have to go to the bank to handle this stuff, so it’ll probably be early afternoon before I’m here anyway.”

Manager: “I don’t want you taking all day off. Just come in whenever you can.”

I didn’t even try to argue because she wouldn’t have listened. I just decided I was going to take my time with everything. She told me to get in whenever I could. She would have no way of knowing that it didn’t take me six-plus hours at the bank (Petty? Possibly. Did I give a single, solitary f***? NOPE.)

Apparently, my body had other ideas.

The next morning, I went to my appointment and then to the bank. It was just before lunch by the time everything was done. I decided that I didn’t want to spend money on fast food or anything, and I was still trying to stall going to work, so I went home and made lunch. I took about two bites and promptly ran into the bathroom and threw it all up.

Once I finished, I decided that I was not even going to walk into work super late, and I texted my manager.

Me: “I’m not feeling all that well. I’m not coming in at all today.”

Manager: “I really need you in.”

Me: “I literally just threw up, so I’m not coming in.”

Manager: “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

I cleaned up the rest of my lunch and put it in the fridge for later, got into my pajamas, and curled up and watched TV. I didn’t have any other issues, so I’m pretty sure I was just stressed beyond belief. I did make it in the next day and had to deal with my manager side-eyeing me all day. I got another job as fast as I could.

I am checking up on one of my tables.

Me: “Can I get you any more drinks?”

Customer: “I’d like a Coke, please.”

Me: “Sure thing!”

Customer: “But it has to be regular Coke! Not Diet Coke! I had some Mentos earlier!”

Me: “…I’ll make sure it’s regular Coke, sir.”

Customer: “You’d better! If I explode, I’m going to sue you!” 

I thought he might be joking, but he was speaking deadly seriously, and everyone else at his table was behaving like it was the most normal conversation in the world.