I am usually upbeat at work and have earned the nickname “Friendly” for my ability to handle even the most difficult customer at the small convenience store I work at. On this day, however…

A customer is looking through a display of beverages in glass containers, and they are either too lazy to put it back on the shelf correctly or totally misjudge the distance, because after removing a bottle from the display to read the back, the customer replaces the bottle, where it immediately falls and breaks.

My coworker is up front on our second register, so I immediately close mine and run over to mark off the area with cones, put on an orange safety vest that shows a stick figure mopping on the back — to indicate I am busy with cleanup and cannot provide customer service at this time — and begin cleaning up.

For whatever reason, every. Single. Customer entering the store decides to walk directly through the sticky pile of glass and liquid I am trying to clean up, even though there are several cones in a circle blocking the mess from every angle and space for customers to walk down two different unobstructed aisles to go around me. 

At first, I attempt to be polite, but after about the fifth person walks past the cones to squeeze by me and literally crunches over the glass and slips on the puddle, I throw down the mop, which clatters to the floor, and scream, “STOP WALKING THROUGH THE F****** GLASS!”

I then calmly pick up the mop and continue cleaning. The store is absolutely silent for the next minute as I clean up the mess, put away the cones, and return to my register.

I went to visit my dying aunt. We talked for a long time, and I mentioned that I still had the embroidered plaque she’d made for my birth. I was ashamed; I hadn’t taken the best care of it and it was quite dirty. I thought she might be able to tell me how to clean it.

My aunt started crying, and I apologized for my actions.

“It’s not that,” she sobbed. “My children threw theirs away. You’re the only one who kept it.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say to that, but I made sure I visited her as much as possible before she passed. I have an entire drawer dedicated to her letters, and a wall dedicated to her embroidery. It’s not going in a box or in the trash.

The coworker in this story is basically the exact opposite of intimidating. He stands right at six feet tall and is maybe 170 pounds. He’s also incredibly baby-faced and has a somewhat timid personality around new people. With all this being said, it hasn’t been uncommon for ruder customers to notice this and try to take advantage of it but nothing has ever gone too over-the-top… that is, until this incident.

I’m minding my section of the store when I hear a loud crash followed by a string of profanity. I pop out from my aisle to find out what’s going on and, from a distance, I can see a display case has been turned over and this meek coworker is being accosted by a rather burly, biker-looking type of man who stands a head taller and looks to be about 100 pounds heavier. While I can’t hear what’s being said from as far back as I am, the biker guy is right in my coworker’s face and is being rather animated with his “discussion.”

Suddenly, the biker guy violently grabs my coworker by the collar. Before I can even begin to rush over or radio for help, my coworker, in the swiftest motion I’ve ever seen, grabs the biker guy by the arm, steps into him, and executes an absolutely perfect shoulder throw takedown, sending the guy to the floor, hard.

By this time, security has intervened anyway and, as you might expect, the biker guy begins screaming in pain and yelling about “assault” and how he’s going to sue, etc. Security tries to get him up and take him to the office to hold him until the police arrive, but every time they try to move him he just screams louder. Finally, the police come to arrest the guy, but even they can’t get the guy off the ground and it’s determined an ambulance needs to be called.

After what seems like forever since all this began, medics come and cart the biker guy off with him still cursing everyone and promising to sue, get everyone fired, and close the store down. The officers split up, with some following the biker guy to the hospital to get his statement and the others going with my coworker and the managers to the office to review camera footage. The officers at the store quickly determine that my coworker likely won’t face any charges, as he obviously acted in self-defense, but management still has to place him on suspension until everything is totally resolved, as is protocol in situations where police are called.

Fast forward a bit: my coworker comes back to work. We find out through his stories that the whole incident started when my coworker told the biker guy that we’d sold out of an extremely popular sale item and wouldn’t be getting more in. The biker guy apparently threatened to “beat the s***” out of my coworker when he wouldn’t check the stock room for more when, obviously, there wouldn’t be any more in stock. The biker guy also did try to sue, but got laughed at by his lawyers who threw out the case when the security footage was played.

We also find out that my coworker declined to press any sort of countersuit. Reason being, it so happens that the biker guy wasn’t faking his pain! When he crash-landed from being thrown, it shattered his hip and cracked two ribs. My coworker says the punishment to the guy’s ego — spending six weeks or more in a body cast coupled with endless taunting from his biker buddies for losing a fight to a guy half his size — is more of a victory than any financial punishment.

I was at a food court in a mall, sitting fairly close to the trash cans. Next to the trash cans, there were a couple of recycling bins, one for bottles and one for cans. As I was watching, a woman walked up and dropped her bottle into the bin marked for cans. There was a clinking as the bottle hit metal, and I could see her realize that she’d just dropped the bottle into the wrong bin.

After pausing for a moment, she then reached down and pulled the lids off both bins. I thought maybe she was planning to pull out her bottle and put it in the right container, but instead, she swapped the two lids, placing the lid marked for bottles on the container for cans, and vice versa. She then turned around and spotted me watching. She quickly looked away and hurried off.

I ended up walking over and switching the lids back, but I really have to wonder how you can get so stubborn that you feel the need to swap the lids on recycling bins to pretend that you are “retroactively right” in which bin you dropped your trash into.

This story is part of our Recycling roundup!

Read the next Recycling roundup story!

Read the Recycling roundup!

I’ve spent nearly ten years working at a popular gas station in my city, and I’ve gotten to know many customers in that time. One girl, only a few years younger than me, comes in several times a week and we always chat if I have the time. I learn that she is a waitress at my favorite restaurant, though I’ve never been in while she was working; she works evenings, and I only go in mornings or mid-afternoons.

She always laughs and tells me to come by when she is working and sit in her section so she can have one stress-free table for once, and I tell her that as soon as I feel like leaving my house at night, I will. 

A couple of months later, in January, we have our massive birthday celebration for the seven family members who have birthdays all within a couple of weeks of each other. We go to a restaurant that I’ve never been in before, and my mother proceeds to make a fuss over everything to the poor waitress.

The waitress gets our drinks but gives a few to the wrong people, and our food has to come out in waves because we are a table of nearly thirty. When my mom threatens to not tip if the waitress doesn’t “get her act together,” I slam my drink down, stand, throw my napkin onto her plate, and storm out, making her chase me down.

I explain to her that she’s ruined my portion of the celebration and I’m not going to speak to her for a long time after this. She understands she’s screwed up and offers to take me to my favorite restaurant that evening. It’s pretty expensive, but she promises to pay for everything and tip well. I accept.

We get seated, and when the waitress comes for our drink order, it’s my customer! She is thrilled to finally have me as a customer, and she goes above and beyond. It’s a good evening all around, much better than earlier, and when she comes to ask if we want dessert, I turn it down. As she begins to collect plates, it comes up that it’s my birthday. When she comes back with our ticket, there’s a takeout container that she gives to me. It’s a slice of my favorite dessert! She paid for it out of her tip money as a birthday present for me.

It really made up for earlier.