My brother is an a**hole driver. The kind of person who will pull right up to the bumper of someone at a stoplight and start pounding their horn, even when there is no way for those in front of them to go. The kind of person who will swerve around to get ahead of a car, and then brake check them to ‘teach them a lesson’ for getting in his way. The kind of person who will swerve across lanes of traffic, cutting cars off, to swerve into the exit ramp. Just terrible, whenever he is behind the wheel of a car.

And no matter how much we call him out, he refuses to admit that he is wrong. 

Well, about a month ago, he pulled up to our house for a visit, but the front of his car was beat to hell. Dents on the hood, cracks in the windshield and driver’s side window, and the driver’s mirror was missing entirely.

Me: “What happened?”

Brother: “This guy just jumped out and attacked me!”

Me: “What?! Someone jumped out into the road? Did you just have a hit-and-run?”

Brother: “No, he jumped out of his car and attacked me. I barely got out of there.”

Me: *Now somewhat suspicious, given his history.* “Were you behind his car at a traffic light?”

Brother: “Yeah, just minding my own business, and he just jumped out—”

Me: “—After you started honking your horn at him?”

Brother: *Silent.*

He kept circling back to the story during the visit, and clammed up when asked what had happened right before the ‘attack’, but, from what I know of him, I’m pretty sure the sequence went something like ‘he pulled up behind them, started laying on his horn, and the other driver then hopped out to get him to shut up’.

Still, not great road rage, but I honestly can’t say my brother isn’t a deserving recipient of it.

I am a middle school teacher. One day, there is a tornado risk, and we lock down in our storm shelters – the PE locker rooms. Some students get anxious, particularly students who moved from places that don’t get tornadoes. I give them the most information I can in a reasonable tone – knowledge is power – and they seem reassured, or at least too busy thinking over the info to be panicked. 

To further reduce the tension, I take out my secret weapon – a small, palm-sized yellow school bus stress toy made of foam. I hurl it into the back of a student’s head. The kid laughs and launches it in kind. Soon enough, we have a seated, hushed hybrid game of catch/dodgeball going, and the storm is forgotten by the students as I keep an eye on the radar.

As he prepares to throw the bus, a student pauses, thoughtfully inspects the bus, and informs the students around him:

Student: “You know, there might be a bus flying outside just like this.”

He then hurled it across the room, and the game continued.

My poor bus landing in the toilet notwithstanding, all was well, and we eventually resumed classes.

I work in a research lab at a university. We have a clinic on campus which provides a huge array of health services – typically free or very low cost – for university students. There’s also a large hospital several miles off campus.

Last week, one of our grad students was trying to unscrew something when his hand slipped, and he stabbed his other hand very badly with the screwdriver. I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but it was obvious that he needed immediate medical attention.

He bandaged it as well as he could from our first aid kits and grabbed a friend to drive him. They opted to go to the clinic rather than the hospital since it was closer, cheaper, and catered only to students, so it was likely he could be seen immediately.

He told us this is what happened when they arrived at the reception area:

Student: “Hi, I’ve just stabbed my hand with a dirty old screwdriver, and I need help.” *Holds up bleeding, bandaged hand.*

Receptionist: *With a sour face.* “You should have called ahead of time.”

Student: “It literally JUST happened.”

Receptionist: “You still should have called.”

Student: “How? My friend was driving, and I can’t use my hands… because of the stab wound.”

He did get seen pretty quickly, and he’ll be okay, but we were all pretty baffled when he told us about their attitude!

I had to drive my kid to school one morning. She loves looking for the numbers on the local school buses. (They go from 1 to 200, a large school district.) When we are stopped at a light, we see a bus go across with a very unfortunate number…

Me: “I feel so sorry for that bus driver.”

My Kid: “Six seven! Six seven! Six seven!”

Related:
Meme It Till You Mean It

I work in a niche retail store with fewer than fifteen locations in our district. The other day, one location had their register go down, so they called me to ring out their customer; no biggie, we do it all the time! We get through the order, and then this conversation ensues (please note we are thirty miles apart):

Me: “Okay, the total is $108 even.”

Coworker: “Okay, am I taking cash or card?”

I pause.

Me: …how am I supposed to get the cash from you?”

Coworker: *To customer.* “It’s gonna be card only.”

I hung up the phone, wondering what was in the water in that town.