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The Terrible Tuesdays

, , , , | Right | May 31, 2022

It’s seven in the morning on a Tuesday — a generally uneventful day. It’s just me and my boss and a beer vendor. I am watching a strange person pressing their face against every glass door of the cooler where we keep the beer. They eventually reach the cooler door where my boss and the vendor are talking. My boss looks at them awkwardly.

Customer: “Hey, got any good beer suggestions?”

Boss: “Yes.” *Points to a four-pack*

Customer: “Thank you.”

The customer turns toward where I am standing, smiling behind the counter, patiently waiting to assist them. They say “hello” to me as they start slowly trying to stuff the four-pack up the bottom of their jacket.

Customer: “I’m just gonna…”

He grabs a free newspaper and starts heading for the door.

Me: *Absolutely flabbergasted* “Uh, excuse me. Are you going to pay for that?”

Customer: “No.” *Continues walking very casually*

After wrapping my head around what has just happened, I tell my boss and we begin to hoof it down the main street after this person. After my kind words are unable to get our beer back from them, my boss makes a threat to call the cops, and our beer is retrieved. As my boss and I walk back to work, he exclaims:

Boss: “On a Tuesday morning… Jesus!”

Using His Powers Of Intimidation For Good Instead Of Evil

, , , | Friendly | May 20, 2022

One year, while visiting a famous motorcycle rally in New Hampshire, my wife (in a disability scooter) was trying to cross a road protected by a crossing guard. Every time it was the pedestrians’ turn, my wife would be surrounded by people crossing the road, preventing her from crossing. You become invisible on a scooter for some reason. 

This happened for a few cycles.

Then, Biker Dude appeared. He was the personification of a 1% club member — big, bearded, inked with leather and chains, and triple-patched. He was the real deal. He leaned down to my wife, yelling over the noise of all the motorcycles.

Biker Dude: “DO YOU NEED HELP, MA’AM?”

Wife: *Slightly scared* “Uh-huh.”

The next time it was the pedestrians’ turn to cross the road, Biker Dude stood up and bellowed:


Leaning down, he softly said, “Please follow me, ma’am,” and off he went like an icebreaker dressed in leather and chains in the Arctic clearing a path for my wife, on her scooter, following closely behind.

On the other side, the man leaned down again and softly asked:

Biker Dude: “Do you need anything else, ma’am?”

Wife: *In awe* “Uh-uh.”

Biker Dude: “You have a nice day.”

And off Biker Dude disappeared into the crowd.

NEVER judge a book by its cover.

Very Sel-Fish

, , , , | Right | May 3, 2022



My coworker and I are taking turns assisting customers with fish. A fun fact: customers don’t know fish. They’d be willing to throw a goldfish in a gallon tank if we let them. My coworker approaches me.

Coworker: “These people are trying to get fish without having their tank cycled or anything. I told them they should wait at least a day, but just a heads-up in case they ask you.”

Me: “Okay, thank you.”

Sure enough, they come to the registers and the customer continues complaining to my coworker.

Customer: “So, we can leave the tank waiting until after supper?”

Coworker: “It’s really best to wait at least a couple of days.”

Customer: “We’ll be back later.”

It’s obvious she wants to come back when my coworker and I are gone.

A few hours later, she comes back. My coworker has gone and I am in the last hour of my shift. We informed our manager earlier on.

Customer: “I’d like to get some fish.”

I go back and inform my manager, as earlier the customer told her grandson he could get eight fish for a ten-gallon tank, which I wasn’t going to do and I wanted a witness.

I walk over to the tanks and explain to her that I can’t sell her eight tetras; I can sell her at most three.

Customer: “It said on the box that we could get ten fish!”

Me: “That’s actually the gallons, and unfortunately, these fish grow to about three inches, meaning I can’t sell you eight; it’s cruel to the fish.”

She turns to her grandson.

Customer: “You can only get three fish.”

Grandson: “Why?”

Customer: “Because apparently, we’re living in the Soviet Union.”

Grandson: “But we can come back and get the other five tomorrow, right?”

Customer: “Of course.”

They got their fish and left. I told my manager what their plan was so they could keep a lookout. She came back at least two times to get replacement fish because the ones she had continued dying.

Please listen to employees who work with the animals in question. We want what’s best for them!

Not. Freakin’. Worth It.

, , , , , | Working | March 30, 2022

While I’m home for winter break, my mom tells me a friend of hers needs some help at the factory she manages. I am told that she will pay me $18 per hour for as many hours as I feel like working, and I’ll be in a quiet room by myself. It sounds perfect, so I agree.

First thing upon arriving, I notice that I am the only one wearing a mask. A worker sits me down at a station near a bunch of other people and begins training me. I’m internally panicking because this isn’t what I was told I would be doing, but I try to roll with it.

Thankfully, my mom’s friend arrives not long after (also not wearing a mask).

Mom’s Friend: “[My Name] will be doing a different task today.”

She brings me to an empty room and gives me my task, and I putter away for five hours or so until I feel like going home.

The next day, I return at the same time. Again, no masks. I go into the room and begin my tasks. A few minutes later, the floor supervisor comes in with another worker.

Supervisor: “[Worker] will be helping you since this task is a priority.”

We work basically in silence, which is fine by me as I’m not a talker. An hour or so into it, we take a break and we start talking.

Worker: “I requested to be transferred to this task because the girl I was working with yesterday had [contagious illness].”

Instantly, alarm bells went off in my head. She was not wearing a mask, and she’d just told me she had been working in close proximity with someone who was confirmed to be sick. I avoided her for the rest of the day and left a few hours early, resolving not to go back again.

A few days later, my mom told me that nine of the twenty-three employees at the factory had tested positive for [contagious illness]. I was relieved that I didn’t go back, no matter how good the money was.

The Drive-Thru: A Perfect Place To Play Candy Crush

, , , , | Right | March 17, 2022

I pull into a drive-thru with a mid-sized line of cars. When the woman ahead of me does not pull up when the line moves, I notice that she is on her phone. No big deal; she is still three cars back from the speaker.

Once she has four open car lengths in front of her and the order speaker is open and she still has not looked up from her phone, I tap my horn briefly to wake her up. She makes eye contact with me and scowls before putting her car in drive and pulling up to the speaker.

She puts her car back in park, places her order, and goes right back to her phone. When she is supposed to move up again and it is my turn to order, but she still has not looked up, I tap my horn a second time.

She pulls up, puts her car in park, gets out, slams her door, and marches back toward me. For the dialogue, picture her standing outside my car window yelling and waving her hands.

Entitled Woman: “Why are you honking at me? What the h*** are you f****** beeping at?”

Me: “Because you weren’t moving.”

Entitled Woman: “You were back there and you were fine, so what the h*** are you even talking about?!”

This part goes on a bit. Honestly, I have no idea what she is trying to say, but I am starting to get a bit peeved.

Me: “Get off your f****** phone, lady!”

Entitled Woman: “My car was in park, so it’s legal for me to be on my phone! That’s none of your business, so mind your own business!”

This part is said with a supreme look of triumph like everyone knows it is okay to park in a drive-thru to use your phone and I’m the idiot here. I’m pretty much done.

Me: “Look, lady, you are in the wrong, and you know you are, so just go back to your car.”

Entitled Woman: “I’m not wrong! You’re the one who’s wrong!”

But she does head back to her car. And then, for just the topping on the irony cake, before she gets back in, she screams:

Entitled Woman: “YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN!”