This happens more than ten years ago when I’m barely thirteen and my family has just moved from the southern USA to the North East. We arrive in mid-February, just two days before a massive nor’easter hits, dumping just about a foot of snow. My mom is from the area, so she knows how to deal with this. My little brother and I do not. He was born in the south and we moved there when I was just six months old, so both of us are just this side of useless when it comes to snow, having never seen more than five inches our whole lives.

The day after the storm, my brother and I have to get to school. We wake up extra early and spend the better part of two hours shoveling our sidewalk, digging out the car, and clearing out the parking space — there’s street parking only on this block.

When we’re finally done, my mom marks her parking space with a chair. It’s common practice up here to save your space, because people who have lived here forever and know what happens every winter will still refuse to shovel their own space and use whatever is available, no matter who shoveled it.

We pile into my mom’s little Audi. While waiting for it to warm up, we see a big Hummer screech to a halt behind us and flip his blinker on. He’s clearly waiting for us to leave so he can take our spot. My mom isn’t having this. She shifts the car back into park, turns the blinker off, and waits for him to leave. 

After a few minutes of waiting, we can see the guy getting more and more frustrated. He’s gesturing at my mom, banging his steering wheel, laying on his horn for twenty-plus seconds at a time. He’s just so ANGRY he can’t have the spot all the way down the block from his house that HE DIDN’T DO ALL THE WORK FOR.

Finally, after about five minutes, he gets out and storms up to the driver’s side window. My mom barely cracks it.

Mom: “Yes, can I help you?”

Angry Guy: “YOU NEED TO F****** MOVE THIS PIECE OF S*** RIGHT THE F*** NOW!”

Mom: “Oh? Is there a plow coming or something?”

Angry Guy: “NO, YOU STUPID B****! I’M TRYING TO F****** PARK AND GO HOME! NOW F****** MOVE! NOW!”

Mom: *Laughing* “Yeahhhh, I don’t think so. We just spent half the morning shoveling this spot. I am legally parked in front of my house, and I know you know the common courtesy in this state of not parking in a spot you didn’t clear and didn’t claim. So you can go shovel out in front of your own house!”

She rolled the window up and pretended to answer her phone. The angry guy stood out there in around twenty degrees Fahrenheit having a Grade-A hissy fit — screaming, stomping, banging on the car window, and even throwing snowballs at the windshield. That one made us laugh, which only made him angrier. His face was so hot I think there was actual steam coming off of his cheeks. 

Ten whole minutes later, he finally got in his car and slammed on the gas. The satisfying ending? D**khead had left his car going so long he ran out of gas and had to call a tow truck. We were late for school. Totally worth it.

This story is part of our Best Of January 2021 roundup!

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It is the middle of the global health crisis. I enter a fast food restaurant just behind an older gentleman who pulls down his mask around his chin the second he enters the door. Most of the dining area has been closed off, except for two tables by the ordering counter. The gentleman notices this.

Customer: “What happened to all the tables?”

He wanders over to the pastries, mask still down, to look at them, and then he steps up to order. There is a plastic barrier between the register and customer, but he leans to the side so there is nothing between him and the register.

Customer: “I’ll have a coffee, and one of those muffins.”

Cashier: *Enters the order* “Okay, and will that be anything else?”

Customer: *Leans over the counter* “Where’s my coffee? Will you bring my coffee?”

The cashier points at a small table to the left.

Cashier: “Someone will bring it there. That’ll be [price], please.”

Customer: *Leans over the counter again* “What?”

Cashier: “[Price], please.”

Customer: “Where are all the tables?”

Cashier: “We had to remove them for health reasons, sir.”

Customer: “What?”

Cashier: “Health reasons. How would you like to pay?”

The customer pays and moves near to where I am standing. I quickly step up to order, not wanting to be anywhere near this guy, who still hasn’t put his mask back on. After I order, I wait to the side for my food and the guy walks back up to the cashier.

Customer: “Where’s my coffee? Will you bring it to me?”

Cashier: *Points at the table again* “Someone will bring it there soon.”

He gets his coffee after a minute and goes to sit down at one of the tables to have his coffee and muffin. After another minute, he gets back up and starts looking at the place where utensils and napkins usually would be. Most restaurants no longer set them out for health reasons, including this one. I back away when he comes near me with his mask still off. He then marches up to the counter and leans around the plastic barrier.

Customer: “Where are the napkins? And what happened to all the tables?”

The cashier grabs some napkins and moves so the barrier is between her and the customer.

Cashier: “You need to put on a mask while you’re not eating.”

Customer: “What?”

The cashier holds out the napkins and indicates her mask.

Cashier: “You need to wear a mask.”

He grabbed the napkins from her and stomped away without another word, scowling.

My town has put together a free test site for the health crisis for residents. I heard that the morning was swamped. People were in line for hours. I have pre-registered and I go as soon as I get out of work. Fortunately, the lines have died down significantly, and I am the second car in my line.

Unfortunately, when I check in, they have just run out of tubes. I don’t have any plans for the rest of the evening, so I don’t mind waiting. We chat a bit about how the lines have been, it being a successful event, and whatnot. Not three minutes later, another worker drives our way with another box of tubes. The two check-in workers start cheering.

Worker #1: “Woo-hoo!”

Worker #2: “Go, [Tube Worker]! You’re awesome, [Tube Worker]!”

Me: “Not all heroes wear capes!”

Worker #1: “You’re a hero, [Tube Worker]!”

They set me up and send me off to the testing station.

Me: “Hello!”

Worker #3: “Welcome! Have you done this before?”

Me: “Yeah… Once… A while ago.”

Worker #3: “You nervous?”

Me: “Ehhh…”

Worker #3: “Here’s what I like to tell people. We don’t go in any further than you would when you pick your nose… and we both know you pick your nose.”

I burst out laughing. Thanks, test site workers! You sure know how to ease tension!

I work at a popular fast food restaurant that has lemonade and tea.

Customer: “Hi, do you have strawberry lemonade?”

Me: “Nope!”

Customer: “Peach lemonade?”

Me: “Nope!”

Customer: “Well, what kind of flavored lemonade do you have?”

Me: “We have regular lemonade.”

Customer: “Do you have any flavored tea?”

Me: “We have sweet and unsweet.”

Customer: *Pauses* “How about raspberry tea?”

Me: “Nope!”

Customer: “Do you have strawberry tea?”

When I am in college, I work at a restaurant for a little extra cash, and I do mean “a little.” I work the off hours, during the day on weekdays and the occasional weeknight, and I’m not even making enough tips to get up to minimum wage. The owner is supposed to pay me the amount it falls short, but I don’t realize that at the time, and he just marks that I get my tips in cash. The restaurant is only two blocks from my apartment and I often write during downtime, so I don’t worry about it too much. 

After months of barely making anything, Valentine’s Day comes up, which just so happens to fall on one of my weeknights. We have a fancy prix fixe menu and the whole restaurant is booked. The day before:

Owner: “I’m going to have another waitress come in to help you out since there will be so many customers tomorrow.”

I’m usually alone on that shift. I am a little disappointed but I understand. There are only around ten tables in the restaurant, so I could have handled it. 

Valentine’s night, we each start serving our half of the restaurant, but we also start getting orders for delivery with no delivery guy in the restaurant. I call the owner to ask him what we should do.

Owner: “Run the deliveries, and [Other Waitress] will handle the tables.”

Me: “I would be making hundreds of dollars in tips serving those tables, and if I run deliveries? Twenty at most. No.”

When I start giving my reasons, he acts like he can’t hear me and hangs up. I call him back and he doesn’t answer. I keep calling until he does.

Owner: “Run the deliveries or leave.”

I’ve finally had enough.

Me: “Okay.”

I hang up, leave the restaurant, and never go back. 

The owner keeps trying to call me, both that night and in the coming weeks, but I don’t answer. He has other waitresses call me for months — literal months — asking for me to cover their shifts because he says they can’t stay home when they are sick unless I cover them.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t work there.”

One time, the owner sees me walking in my neighborhood and swerves off the road onto the grass next to the sidewalk I am on to jump out and talk to me.

Owner: “We’re friends, aren’t we? Please come back!”

It got really creepy after a while. One time, he even sent me an emoji of two people salsa dancing with the message, “This reminds me of us.”

Needless to say, I avoided that restaurant like the plague for the rest of the time I lived there. I’d cross the street to not walk past it or go the back ways to avoid the main road. In the end, living two blocks away wasn’t as convenient as I thought!