I work at a large grocery store that’s open twenty-four hours a day. Customer traffic usually dies out around eleven at night, leaving us to wander the store, restock, take inventory, and clean.

This particular night, I am on the one register we keep open. It’s getting near what we call the “pick-up” where activity starts to increase, and suddenly, every customer in the store files into my line at once, a total of eight people.

I process the first woman who is paying for a number of groceries with cash, and a young man at the very back of the line suddenly calls forward.

Irate Customer: “Hurry the f*** up!”

The line as a whole turns to look at him in a mixture of confusion and disgust.

Irate Customer: “Who the f*** uses cash? There are eight f****** people in line, and this lady is going to keep us all here using f****** cash in 2024? We have places to go, lady!”

What follows is the most delightful act of unspoken malice I’ve witnessed out of a group of people. Slowly, everyone in line puts away their cards, and once the first woman leaves, every person after her conducts a cash transaction.

The customer who yelled at the first woman grows more and more frustrated, but he is forced to wait because all of the other registers are closed. He throws random insults at the backs of each customer, pacing and walking around in circles in the queue.

The best part is when I get to the man right before him. After I scan and bag all of his items, he smiles and winks at me, pulling something out of his pocket.

Nice Customer: “Do you still take personal checks?”

Me: “We do!”

Nice Customer: “Okay. Who do I make it out to?”

Irate Customer: “WHAT THE F***?!

At this point, he throws the packet of sandwich meat and the soda he is carrying on the floor and storms out of the store. The nice customer and I watch in amusement as he walks past the woman the irate man originally yelled at; she stayed to watch the spectacle, having noticed what was happening. She gives him a wide smile as he forces our sliding doors open by hand and exits.

The man laughs as he pulls out a debit card and taps it on the reader.

Me: “Have a nice day!” 

Nice Customer: “Already am.”

My company has a building near the Honolulu Zoo, and there is a construction project going on right alongside us. Due to materials being stolen, the City contracted with a company that provides deployable security cameras. These cameras take the form of a large generator with a long mast coming out of the top to which multiple cameras and lights are mounted. Someone remotely monitors the cameras, and they can use a built-in PA system to shout at and threaten to call the police on people who access the space without authority. It seems, though, that the City and the company that owns the cameras don’t quite have good communication lines as the person monitoring the cameras commonly yells at the night-time construction workers. 

A few nights ago, I was standing in our parking structure and overheard this exchange. 

Tower: “This is a restricted area under surveillance. Please vacate the area immediately or HPD [Honolulu Police Department] will be called.”

The construction worker on the ground looked up at the tower. He was clearly part of the company that works in the space.

Worker: “Come on! Can’t you tell when it’s us?!”

Tower: “I have no way by which to identify individuals. Please vacate the area now!”

Worker: “We’re working tonight!”

Tower: “Please vacate the area. We are calling HPD now!”

Worker: “Are you f****** serious? We’re in uniform!”

Tower: “You have to call us if you are going to access the area outside of normal times. Vacate now!”

Worker: “It’s Wednesday f****** night!”

Tower: “VACATE!”

Worker: “Yeah? Well, vacate this!”

Tower: “HEY! What are you doing?! No! No, no, no! You can’t—”

The flashing lights, flood lights, and audio died with a comical “beeewwww” as the construction worker cut off the generator, plunging the area into both darkness and silence. 

Worker: “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BE CALLING NO F****** H P F****** D NOW, MOTHERF***ER!”

Apparently, the individual in the yard was some sort of supervisor and had the key necessary to access the generator controls. The construction workers went about their business that night, and the police never showed up. Since this incident, there haven’t been any further issues, but we have noticed that the voice coming from the tower is completely different now. 

I wonder why.

I serve at a restaurant in Honolulu. I drop a drink off for a customer at a table my friend is serving, and the customer has this kind of unique manner of saying “thank you” that stands out to me. He ends up dine-and-dashing, running out on a tab of over $100. At my restaurant, they make the server (my friend) pay.

Over a month later, I’m serving this guy and he says “thank you” in the same exact way that jogs my memory. I slyly snap a picture of him and send it to my friend. She confirms it.

Now I’m watching this guy like a hawk. He continually gets up and heads for the door, but each time he does, I ask him how he’s doing and if he needs anything. Every time, he nervously just tells me he needs another beer and then goes and sits back down.

After about three or four times of doing this, he gets up again and tells me:

Customer: “I need to make a phone call outside.”

Me: “Okay.”

I follow him out as he walks down the stairs. Once he realizes that I’m standing there watching him, he pretends to pull a phone out of his pocket and make a call, but after ten seconds, he abandons the charade and comes back up the stairs, tripping on the way up because he’s clearly flustered.

He then continues to rubber-neck in his seat for the next thirty minutes, but I’ve got everyone in the restaurant watching him now.

Finally, while I’m talking to a table, he decides to make a break for it, but I’m faster and beat him down the stairs.

Me: “Sir, you’re not allowed to go anywhere until you pay your bill.”

Customer: “Well, I’m not done eating yet.”

Me: “Get back inside and finish your food, then.”

At that point, I was getting pretty irate that the on-duty manager wasn’t doing anything about the matter, and I was waiting for the next manager to come in. She showed up, I told her what had happened, and she immediately walked up to the fella, took a close-up picture of him, and called the cops.

The cops showed up and immediately recognized the guy. The guy broke down and started crying in front of the whole restaurant.

It’s not much, but in that moment, it felt pretty good getting to play a part in serving up some justice.

I am a new network engineer on a military base. I’m a somewhat short man of 5’5″ (165 cm). It is rare that I meet men shorter than me. However, I end up temporarily working with a man who is only 5’2″ (157.5 cm). We are working on installing a new device in a network cabinet, and we need to string a fiber cable out through the top.

Coworker: “Can you reach for that?”

Me: *Proudly, with my hands on my hips* “Yes. Yes, I can.”

Coworker: “Why are you saying it like that?”

Me: “Well, it’s not every day another full-grown man asks me to reach for stuff.”

Coworker: *Laughing* “Shut up.”

Back in 2010, I was on my way to California. It was my first time traveling alone to visit family.

When I got through agriculture and the TSA, I stopped at an information booth because I didn’t know the layout of the airport. The woman at the kiosk told me that I could take a shuttle to my gate and directed me where to go.

I decided that the shuttle would probably take too long and walking would be faster.

Yeah… it wasn’t.

It turned out my gate was clear on the farthest side of the airport from where I was. I ended up having to run for the last part and still ended up getting to my gate at the very last possible second. The door to the jetway was already closed. Luckily, they opened it for me as the doors to the plane hadn’t been closed yet.

I was rewarded for my stupidity, though; the other two seats in my row were either never purchased or the individuals meant to occupy them were also trying to run to the gate. I had all three seats to myself for the whole flight, minus the landing when someone’s daughter asked for the window seat to watch the plane touch down.

The moral of the story?

Listen to the people that work there.