When I first started dating my boyfriend, he had a female friend that obviously had feelings for him. My boyfriend is on the spectrum, and I can honestly say that he never noticed. But I did.
I hadn’t seen the girl in a while when my boyfriend came home looking very confused — not angry or upset, but perplexed.
He told me that the girl had told him that I had cheated on him the night before, and she had seen me at the local club dancing with lots of men and women before going home with one.
When my boyfriend asked his friend to clarify, she said, “I knew it was her because of her horrible, bright green hair! She looks like a goblin, ugh!”
My boyfriend’s confusion stemmed from the fact I had dyed my hair from the green to cotton candy pink the month before.
Because he has Asperger’s, he was more concerned that the girl couldn’t tell the difference between green and pink than her lies. He informed her of all of this in his usual impassive way.
She ran away crying.
Thus the friendship ended, running its course.
I DJ at a very popular nightclub in a big city and I am regularly approached by patrons attempting have conversations about music with me.
Patron: Hey (proceeds to tell me about how he uses a popular music aggregator website to find new music).
Patron: What do you think about [website]?
Me: I don’t. I’m more interested in finding things that aren’t popular so that I can share new music with people, not what the general public is listening to.
Patron: Well how am I supposed to find out about that stuff?
Me: Perhaps try having an original thought?
Patron: *stares blankly at me for a moment, and then into space – presumably no longer on this planet – then walks off*
I used to work in a nightclub, and when going round collecting glasses I would occasionally get my a**e grabbed. I would immediately turn round and give the offending bloke a hard kick in the a**e back. My manager — the best boss ever, also a bloke — used to send all the new girls to me to train knowing I would tell them to do this. The bouncers also backed me up every time. One time the guy that grabbed me even apologised!
One occasion sticks in my mind — this was about 15 years ago — on a mid-week night when only three bouncers were working. There were five members of a well-known local sports team in the club. One of them grabbed my a**e, so I turned round and demanded to know which one of them had done it because I couldn’t be sure given that I was facing the other way. All five of them just laughed in my face.
I told the bouncers who then demanded they all leave, and they refused. The bouncers were outnumbered, so the police were called. All five got thrown out, despite these five degenerates repeatedly calling me a liar.
Sometimes you’re lucky enough to work with awesome people, where the good guys outnumber the bad.
Years ago, circa 2010, I worked as door staff at a fairly rough nightclub. We had a policy that every person through the door had to be searched with a wand and be subject to a bag check. I searched a woman and found a baggie of white powder in her purse. I confiscated it and turned her away; she began ranting and screaming at me but her friends escorted her away. I put the bag in our drug safe to be turned over to the cops and carried on with work.
A little while later, a police car drove up and two officers got out. The woman from before came storming back up and started screaming again. One of the officers said, “We have a report that you stole a mobile phone.” I was mystified as I didn’t even have a phone on me, but then the woman started ranting at him about me stealing from her.
A light bulb flashed on in my brain, and I radioed the manager to bring the baggie out. When she did, the crazy woman snatched it and started waving it at the police, telling them to arrest me for theft. The look on their faces was priceless as they arrested her and tested the powder; it came back positive — for what I don’t know, but the little pack changed color. It turned out that she had called 999 and the operator had misheard what she was ranting about and thought she said mobile. Gotta love drunk idiots!
(I work as a security guard at a nightclub. A group of guys appearing to be tourists are all standing in line. They look fairly young.)
Me: *to the first guy in the line* “May I see your ID, please?”
Guy: “What? No, I left my passport back at the hotel.”
Me: “I’m sorry, but without a valid ID I can’t let you in.”
Guy: “I swear to you I turned 18 just last month. You have to believe me!”
Me: “I believe you.”
Guy: “YES!”
Me: “The age limit here is 20.”
Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 31
No ID, No Idea, Part 30
No ID, No Idea, Part 29
