CONTENT WARNING: Animal Cruelty (No injuries, happy ending!)

I worked in a veterinary clinic when I was in high school. This story is a mix of heartbreaking and wholesome.

A woman came in with two perfectly healthy cats that she wanted euthanized. The story goes that she was getting divorced, and they couldn’t agree on who got the cats. So, the woman decided the best thing for the cats was to put them down because she couldn’t let them live without her, nor could she let her soon-to-be-ex-husband be happy with the furballs.

The vet accepted the cats and made her pay in advance for the euthanasia. She walked out immediately after paying, having no intention of even staying with them in their last moments. She, of course, didn’t love them. They were objects to dispose of, just to hurt her ex.

Unfortunately, we had no way of knowing who her husband was as she wasn’t a client of ours. Though we put the word out to animal shelters everywhere we could think of, the poor man was probably told that they were put down. He wouldn’t think to check shelters for news of his babies. Since we never heard back from the shelters, we could only hope that the man destroyed his horrible ex in court during the divorce.

Vet: *To the staff* “So, that’s the story. The cats will have to be euthanized at a somewhat later date, as my schedule is full. In a completely unrelated story, we have two cats who are available for adoption, effective immediately. The owner left a pretty generous donation to their new owners to help them restart their lives in their new home. Tell everyone you know.”

The stories of the — *ahem* — four completely unrelated cats spread through the staff quite quickly.

One of our pet groomers liked the two cats that were available for immediate adoption. The very same day the groomer took them in, both of the cats who were due to be euthanized went missing.

Darn, they must have gotten out! The little Houdinis were probably causing mischief somewhere! A very strange coincidence indeed!

Thankfully, the “donation” did help those two completely unrelated cats get a lovely cat tree and proper supplies, so I guess this story has a happy ending.

However, I still feel terrible for the ex-husband, as I’m sure his heart is still broken.

I went to the grocery store today for some essentials, and tragically, they were all healthy picks: eggs, yogurt, spinach… Blech. I managed to make it in and out of the store without any unfortunate run-ins with other people, and while I was walking to my car, I heard an older lady trying to get the attention of a cart wrangler in the parking lot. She was a little ways closer to the store than where I was parked, in the same row.

She was being ignored by a cart jockey with a full carriage of groceries and an open trunk on her car. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she wanted. So, I walked over, made sure the goal was to get the stuff out of the carriage into the SUV, and did it. It took me about two minutes.

The whole time, the lady was thanking me profusely, calling me a nice young man. I’m old enough now that it was flattering rather than condescending. (Mid-to-late thirties. Don’t rub it in.)

When all was said and done and I’d made sure the trunk could close without smooshing anything, I grabbed my own groceries, and the lady grabbed my arm to stop me. She was an older lady, the kind who doesn’t look particularly frail. Think matron rather than frail grandma. It was quite clear that it was a good idea to stay on this woman’s good side.

While I was not okay with being grabbed, she wagged something papery and green in front of me.

Lady #1: “I was going to give it to that boy over there after he helped me, but he apparently couldn’t hear me.”

She rolled her eyes. Rather than try and argue — again, this was a woman with whom one would not idly f*** — I took the green paper she was waving. It was a 100$ bill. I was immediately like, “Nuh-uh. Dis yours. Take back. Too much.” That sort of thing.

And then she gave me a look.

Lady #1: “Young man, if you don’t take that, I shall become difficult.”

The urge to cover my ears was so strong. This wasn’t because she was shouting shrilly; it was because the last time I heard a woman speak to me in that tone of voice, my earlobe got pinched and I was dragged to the appropriate authority.

Rather than argue — because I might have been born at night, it just wasn’t last night — I took the money.

Right after she released me, I felt something heavy slam into my side, knocking me off-balance but not quite tipping me over. Once I recovered my balance and looked at what hit me, which was a full cart of groceries, I saw a woman in her forties wearing big sunglasses (presumably) staring at me from the back of her own SUV.

Lady #2: “Put this stuff in there. I’m in a hurry.”

She then proceeded to start talking on a cell phone and avoiding eye contact, with every expectation of me doing her bidding.

Mind you, I was in black mesh shorts and a navy blue T-shirt. Folks who work for that grocery store wear white button-downs and khaki pants or shorts. It wouldn’t have been okay even if I did work at the store — I’m pretty sure shoving a loaded cart in someone’s way is assault or something — but the sheer audacity of this woman left me stunned for a moment. My mouth opened and closed a few times, and I was attempting to think of how I was going to handle this particular situation. I’d obviously spent a lot of time in the gym and this woman… hadn’t. If it escalated, which it probably would have, it would’ve been a really bad look. But as it so happens, I didn’t need to do a thing.

The woman trying to avoid looking at me or her groceries found herself with a face full of matron.

Lady #1: *Brightly* “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d had both of your hips replaced, too!”

The second lady, flummoxed at the seeming non-sequitur, let her phone drop.

Lady #2: “Um, what?”

Lady #1: “Well, that nice young man saw me being ignored by an employee and just asked to help! Such a nice thing to see in this day and age, and mind you, I’ve had both hips replaced, so my doctor would be most upset with me if he found out I was exerting myself that way. When did you get yours replaced? They did mine one at a time a few months back!”

Lady #2: “Um, I haven’t had my hips replaced. I’m kind of just in a hurry. Now if you wouldn’t mind…”

And she actually tried to turn away.

Lady #1: *With a sickly sweet smile on her face* “Oh, so there’s nothing wrong with you? You just couldn’t be bothered to put your own groceries in your own car? You’re simply too good for that kind of thing?”

She was on a roll now.

Lady #1: “And rather than ask that nice young man, you just… gave your cart a push and hit him with it? Just said you were in a hurry?”

Lady #2: “Uh, I, uh, well..”

Lady #1: “And yet here we are still! It’s taken even longer than it would have if you’d just done it for yourself, as you’re perfectly capable of doing.”

The second woman started to puff up

Lady #2: “Now you listen—”

And she INSTANTLY got deflated by an old-fashioned look. Children prone to misbehavior are quite familiar with it. It is a look that quite clearly communicates, “We are in public. You are in trouble. Cease, or the consequences will be Old Testament.”

Seeing it work on a grown-a** adult was a thing to behold.

Lady #1: “Young man, please bring that carriage over. I think this nice young lady is ready to put her own groceries in her car.”

I pushed the carriage over and left it near the two women.

Lady #1: *With a smile* “Now you run along, don’t spend all that in one place.”

I gave her the Boy Scout salute (I’m not actually a scout, don’t tell anyone), grabbed my bag, and beat feet for my own vehicle.

The second woman was actually still putting her bags into her car, being supervised by the old lady. I might’ve cackled.

I’m not that big on Renaissance festivals, but my friends were, and we lived near one of the best in the country, apparently. So, friends from four states away would come down to visit in what to me was… the local fair thing fifteen minutes from where I grew up. Fine by me, a dozen friends from all over the country showed up to eat, drink, and watch jousting.

Rain was called for, so I wore waterproof hiking pants, a rain jacket, and a large hat. My friends all wore period garb, including big hoop dresses. Two friends didn’t dress up at all, so I wasn’t the odd one out. A MASSIVE downpour happened, and everyone got soaked but me. I wasn’t terribly far from my car when the rain happened, and I managed to get in it before the rain really hit. My outfit protected me from the light rain after.

But then…

As we were leaving seven or eight hours later, there was a traffic jam. That was fair; 16,000 people showed up for this one festival in a grass and mud parking lot. The road to leave was one lane in each direction and not far from a mall. It gets BUSY.

Normally, at a four-way stop, one car goes, then the one to the right, then the one to the right, and so on. For whatever reason, the police directing traffic had one lane of cars go for ten minutes or more. Then, the next line of cars would go, and for another ten to twenty minutes, only that lane was open.

In came [Woman]. She did not zero in on the cop directing traffic at the road, or his supervisor nearby. Oh, no. She beelined for the 100-pound “takes five months to grow a five o’clock shadow” teenage boy working there.

She demanded to know the hold-up. She argued that this was a waste of time and there was no one currently going within 200 feet of us. (The lane opened up was further off.)

He pointed out that even if he let her move forward, it was still a twenty-minute wait. She didn’t care. She was mad. It’s worth noting that it was 55F (12.8C) out, he was soaking wet, and she was dry — meaning she likely got there after the morning rain.

I don’t yell at women typically but will absolutely tell a man to behave himself in public. But lord, this teenage boy looked like he was going to cry.

Me: “Hey, lady! You, talking to the employee and not the manager! Get back in your car, and stop screaming like a drunk banshee!”

Woman: “EXCUSE ME! THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND—”

Me: “Between you and the underage child? The kid you outweigh by thirty pounds and twenty years? Sit down and be quiet. You sound like fingernails on a chalkboard on their third marriage, and I have delicate ears.”

Woman: “I AM JUST LETTING HIM KNOW THAT—”

Me: “So, call his adult manager over; she’s right there. Call the giant friggin’ cop right past him. He can’t hear you over the traffic, but I sure can. Go home! Go home and poorly manage a softball team. Let your anger out on the ref until you get kicked out of the game.”

Woman: “I… You…”

Me: “GO HOME AND POORLY MANAGE A SOFTBALL TEAM, AND LEAVE THE LITERAL CHILD ALONE!”

She got back in her car. When it was my turn to leave, I was about to apologize to the kid for making a bigger scene, but instead…

Kid: “Sir, thank you so much. I thought she was going to hit me. I just turned fourteen, and my aunt got me this job, and this is my first job, and I… My God, I thought she was going rabid.”

My friends were in the backseat, two of them crying with laughter still.

Friend: “I… am so cold. And soaking wet. And my feet hurt. And it’s all worth it to hear you shout out, ‘Step away from the underage boys, coach!’ Like Mean Girls!” *Pauses* “Wait, why aren’t you cold?”

Me: “My entire outfit is insulated and waterproof. I also got to the car when the rain started and took a nap for the twenty minutes it lasted.”

Years later, we were at a cafe in NYC. I got there five minutes after everyone else. I think I was finishing a slice of street pizza, and outside food wasn’t allowed.

My friends looked at me and said they wished I’d been there five minutes sooner. Apparently, an Entitled Jerk was going off on the barista until she nearly cried. Not enough soy? Too much soy? She couldn’t make a hot iced latte with hot foam and no milk? Something like that.

Me: “What could I have done?”

Friends: *In unison* “You could have told her to go home and poorly manage a softball team!”

My pharmacy opens at 9:00 am. We open on time and, as usual, there are already people waiting in the drive-thru. One tech is already helping drive-thru customers, and there are no issues.

A lady walks up to my front counter inside the store.

Lady: “There’s a line in the drive-thru.”

Thanks for the update on the obvious.

Me: “Oh, I’m aware. There usually is this time of morning.”

Lady: “That Escalade has been sitting there forever!”

My drive-thru tech, who has already helped three cars since opening, looks over with a confused expression. The driver of the Escalade in question is an established patient, just dropped off a prescription, and was taken care of pretty quickly.

Lady: “You should have made them come inside! I don’t understand why I had to wait twenty minutes in the drive-thru!”

Me: “Ma’am… we opened six minutes ago.”

Lady: “What do you mean?”

Me: “The pharmacy opens at 9:00 am. It is now 9:06 am.”

Lady: “But I waited in the drive-thru for twenty minutes.”

Me: “I understand that. But we weren’t open yet. We opened at 9:00.”

Lady: “Then why were people waiting in the drive-thru?!”

Me: “Likely waiting for us to open so we could help them.”

I’m so done with this conversation, and now she’s holding up people behind her with this dumba**ery.

Me: “Were you picking up a prescription, ma’am?”

Lady: “If there were people waiting in the drive-thru, then you should have been helping them. I shouldn’t have to wait for twenty minutes!”

Me: “Ma’am, we open at 9:00. We do not start serving customers until we open at 9:00. There wasn’t even pharmacy staff in the building twenty minutes ago. I would suggest not coming before 9:00 next time if you do not want to wait for twenty minutes for the pharmacy to open. Are you picking up or dropping off today?”

Lady: “I just don’t understand why I had to wait for twenty minutes.”

At this point, the three people behind her are either rolling their eyes or snickering, and one of my regulars who loves me is raising his eyebrows and making faces, so now I’m trying not to laugh.

Me: “I really don’t know how much clearer I can be. I have other customers waiting now, so are you picking up or dropping off?”

Lady: “I want an explanation for why I had to wait so long!”

My regular who’s been making faces behind her back has finally had enough.

Regular: “Hey, lady, are we going to have to wait twenty minutes for that poor girl to explain to you how g**d*** time works? Just pick up your prescription and leave them alone.”

The lady grumbles about calling corporate and glares at the regular but luckily doesn’t get into a fight with him — or the rest of the line, who have also started making remarks about her stupidity.

She gets her script and finally leaves.

Regular: “If she complains, you can have the manager call me, and I’ll corroborate that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fun way to start the morning, but we did get to laugh about it all day, with my techs continually asking me what time we open.

I’m involved in a summer program during the day, but one kid has been bullying me for the entire summer. None of the adults are willing to step in and put a stop to it, so by this point, I’m miserable.

Me: “Mom, can I not go back tomorrow?”

Mom: “Why? What’s going on?”

Me: “It’s [Bully] again. He won’t stop. I’ve had enough.”

Mom: “Well, suppose I go in tomorrow and have a little talk with him?”

Me: “What? No! Please don’t do that. It’ll probably just make things worse.”

Mom: “Just let me have a word with him. If it doesn’t work, you can quit.”

Me: *Reluctantly* “Well… all right.”

All I expected her to do was pull him to the side and just talk with him. What I didn’t expect was for her to chew him out to the point that he was cowering in fear.

What was funnier was that my mom is about 5’5” and very petite, and [Bully] was a little taller and three times as wide. By the time she was through, he was close to tears. Admittedly, I was a little scared, too, because I had never seen her that angry in my life. [Bully] never picked on me again.