(I’ve just been hired on by a lawyer who deals with disability claims, so I’ve put my two weeks in at the store I have worked at for a few years. This means during the day, I work at the law office, and I close evenings at the store. Since I’m still new to the job, I have to take my time with asking potential clients pertinent questions about their disabilities. I’m on my fourth day there, when a woman in her mid-forties comes in, leaning heavily on a walker, barely shuffling her feet. She is sweating furiously and panting, and drops down on the couch in the receptionist area.)

Me: “Oh, ma’am! Are you okay? Would you like some water to help cool you down?”

Woman: “You don’t have parking in front of your office.”

Me: “No, ma’am. Unfortunately, there was no place to put the parking area.”

(Our law office is an old house with barely any lawn, so the parking is across the street, except for a lone parking area meant for handicapped parking.)

Woman: “I could have hurt myself crossing the street. I’m not so sure I want to hire Mr. [Lawyer] now.”

Me: “Oh, you’re not a current client?”

Woman: “No! And you should tell him that making people park across the street is bad for business!”

Me: “I do apologize, ma’am. There’s nothing we can do about that. But since you’re not a client yet, how about you sit and get some rest, then I can ask you some questions about why you’d like to hire Mr. [Lawyer].”

Woman: *looking offended* “I’m not telling you that! That’s not your business.”

Me: “Unfortunately, it’s my job to ask these sort of questions so we can help in the best possible way we can. You don’t have to give me extensive information, just a briefing over what your disability is.”

Woman: “I got hurt in a serious wreck about six months ago, and ever since then, walking, sitting, standing, and even peeing is unbearable! If it weren’t for my walker, I wouldn’t be able to get around. It’s bad enough I have diabetes on top of that, plus the doctor said that I need to get surgery on my back if I ever want to be normal again, and I can’t do that. I don’t have any kind of insurance.”

Me: *feeling something is off* “I see.”

(I take her through her remaining information, such as which doctors she has gone to about her injuries and what medication she’s on. When I tell her that the lawyer will request a meeting with her at another date, she gets livid and says she’s changed her mind. She takes her time, struggling with her walker, and makes a point to knock over a vase on her way out, so I remember her very well. Two days later, I’m at the store, training my replacement at the register, when the same woman comes up. There’s no walker, the woman doesn’t seem to have any problems at all, and she doesn’t seem to recognize me. I wait for my replacement to start checking her out.)

Me: “It’s good to see you about, Mrs. [Woman]. How are you doing today?”

Woman: “I don’t know you. How do you know me?”

Me: “You came in two days ago to file for disability. I’m glad to know that the car accident you were in hasn’t hindered you completely. You don’t even need your walker this evening.”

Woman: “Oh, uh, oh. Well, I don’t need it all the time. I just… I’m just having a good day. That’s all.” *goes red and hurries to give my coworker her credit card*

Coworker: *after the woman has gone* “That was one of your new boss’s clients?”

Me: “Not anymore.”

(My office has a parking lot straight across the road from us, where my coworkers and I park our vehicles. Since my office is at the front, I can see the vehicles that come and go through the day. It’s late morning when I notice a red Mercedes parked beside my car, and the owner is apparently waving their hands around, gesturing between vehicles. I hurry out to see what’s going on and see there’s a large red smear on the back of my car, and my bumper has been dented.)

Me: “Oh, God, what happened?”

Owner: “I’ll tell you what! When you parked your d*** car, you hit my Belle!”

Me: “Your… what?”

Owner: “You hit my f***ing car!!”

Me: “That is practically impossible. When did you get here?”

Owner: “I got here over an hour ago. Look at this. Look what you did! I want your insurance information now!”

Me: “Fine. And I need yours. However, it’s obvious you hit my car.”

(By this time, a coworker has come out to see what is going on. I give her my phone to ask her to take pictures while I trade information with the car owner.)

Me: “I’m not pulling my insurance information out until you get yours.”

Owner: “I shouldn’t have to! You hit me!”

Me: “Buddy, I’ve been here since 7:30. I have been in my d*** office over there this whole time. How else do you think I saw you standing out here, waving your arms around like a loon? Either get your papers out, or I call the cops. Since I have witnesses to prove where I was, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the one getting in trouble.”

Owner: *splutters* “How dare you?! Do you know who I am?”

Me: “The a**-hole who hit my car. I’m calling the police.”

(Funny how me saying that introduced the insurance card. I still called the cops, because his insurance paperwork was outdated. He still didn’t understand why he was getting a ticket. When I called his insurance, I had to fax them a copy of the police report, because he’d told them it was my fault.)

(I’m on my lunch break and taking the back roads, since the town I work in has a university, which means the two main roads flood with traffic around noon. As I’m coming to a red light, I notice a guy walking the sidewalk in the same direction that I’m going has come to a stop and is watching me intently. I’m watching him, too, because I’m unnerved by how hard he’s staring at me. As I get closer, he suddenly dashes in front of me and I have to slam on my brakes. Luckily, I miss him. He flops on the road in front of me, then stands up when he realizes I’m not going to hit him, and runs at the hood of my car. I scream at him when he lands hard on top of it, then slides back down. I grab my phone to call the police, explaining in detail what has happened, then exit my car on their suggestion to make sure the man is okay. By this time, another car coming the opposite way has pulled up and is watching this guy stand and slam himself into my hood twice again, so I have a witness.)

Me: *yelling* “What are you doing?”

Guy: *moaning and lying on the ground* “Oh, I think you hurt me. I need an ambulance.”

Me: “The police can decide that when they get here. I’ve already called them!”

Guy: “No, call the ambulance. I need medical help. You broke my ribs.”

Me: “No, I didn’t. The police will decide if they should call someone when they get here. I’m not going to do that. I am going to get back in my car now, though.”

(He stood up again and slammed his head as hard as he was able into my hood, splitting his skin open. I screamed and jumped back in my car. At the same time, the other driver got out of his to try and stop the man from doing any more damage to himself or my vehicle. We sat there to wait for the police. When they arrived, the man was transported by ambulance to the hospital and the witness and I gave an explanation of the situation to the officers. I didn’t hear anything else about it until a week later, when some guy claiming to be a lawyer called my place of business to talk to me, saying I owed over $1 million for injury and for leaving the scene of the crime. I told him to get a copy of the police report and hung up. This was three weeks ago, and I still don’t know what happened to that man.)

(One day I’m sitting in a parked car outside a supermarket, writing up the mileage/petrol expenses. Out of nowhere a car drives straight into the back of me! BANG! Glad I was wearing my brown trousers that day, I step out the car only to be confronted by an old lady.)

Lady: “You crashed into me!”

Me: “I was parked.”

Lady: “You reversed into me.”

Me: “No… I was parked. You have driven into me!”

Lady: “You reversed your car into me!”

Me: *sternly* “I. Was. Parked. I need your details, please.”

Lady: “You reversed into me! I want your details!”

Me: “Madam–”

Lady: “DETAILS, NOW! YOU REVERSED INTO ME!”

Me: “I… was… pa–”

(The lady waves dismissively and turns to get back in her car. I write down her license plate number before she drives off, and go into the store to report the incident.)

Me: *to security* “A woman just backed into me while I was parked. She tried to say I reversed into her. Then she drove off, but I’ve got license plate number. Can you check if you have it on camera?”

Security: “Sure. Where were you parked?” *gives location* “Yeah, that should be covered. Have you called the police?”

Me: “Not yet.”

Security: “Okay, give me two ticks and I’ll drop them a call. Would you mind waiting here?”

Me: “Not at all!”

(Security closes off their console and goes into the locked control room. About two minutes later, the old lady who ran into me wanders up to the security console.)

Lady: “Is the security here? I need to report a mad man! It was terrible! I was sitting in my car and he just smashed right into me! He got out and he was so rude! He tried to blame me for smashing into him! He was such a horrible person! He threatened me and then he just ran off!”

Me: *after a pregnant pause* “That was… How terrible!” *walks away to avoid actually decking her square in the face*

(Thankfully one of the cameras caught it and the police dealt with it pretty swiftly. In the footage you could see her driving along and turning as if to enter a parking spot, only to discover there was a car parked there already. She later changed her story to, “she didn’t see me parked there.” Some people shouldn’t be allowed near a car, let alone given a license.)

(I work at an indoor gun range where people can rent and try different guns. Every customer has to sign a liability waiver stating what their firearms experience is so we know better how to serve them. It also serves to protect us against people who may injure themselves and try to sue us. A woman who rented a gun minutes ago comes out holding onto her hand which is lightly bleeding.)

Me: “Did you get cut by the slide? It happens to everyone at some point. I’ll get you a bandage!”

Customer: “I don’t know what happened! I shot it and it cut me! I’m taking you all to court! This is your responsibility!”

Me: “But, ma’am, I thought you had extensive firearms experience. That’s what it says on your waiver!”

Customer: *frustrated and distracted from the bleeding* “WELL, I WAS LYING!”

Me: “Oh… Then you should not have lied!”

Customer: “No. You should have known what my experience was!”

Me: “I don’t know, ma’am, they don’t pay me to assess that… but they do pay me to get you that bandage!”

(She called a lawyer and lied to him, too. When she and the lawyer came in requesting the video, we showed him the liability waiver that she’d signed but neglected to mention to him. He looked at her for a moment, then walked out of the store.)