I was walking my mom’s dog through the park near her house one morning. The two of us were heading down the path, minding our own business when a stranger walked up.

He proceeded to ask me if I believed in evolution, then before I could actually respond he started ranting about how someone (I never actually got who this person was supposed to be) had looked at two lizard fossils and they were exactly the same. And something, something, evolution is a fraud! I don’t actually know all of what he said, not only was he shouting, his words were semi-incoherent. He just wasn’t enunciating, it was like he had a mouthful of marbles that he was shouting around.

Now, I actually majored in evolutionary biology in college, but I wasn’t wearing anything indicating that and I have no idea what set the guy off. As far as I knew, I’d never met him before in my life.

But my mom’s dog has a profound dislike of strange men, especially ones who are shouting, so at this point, she went into a frenzy of barking at him with her hackles up. Mom’s dog has never actually attacked anyone, and she wasn’t a large dog, but as aggressive as she was behaving, this guy decided that she might. And to be fair, she might have- I make it a point to never assume that a dog won’t attack.

The upside was that he ran off, presumably to harass more random strangers.

As the dog and I were leaving the park, I saw the guy again, getting into his car. He saw me, shouted something about lizards, and drove off.

I’m working as a barista. My coworker spots a woman outside who is making her way over to our doors. Before she comes in, my coworker whispers to me that this particular customer often complains about her drinks.

Me: “Welcome to [Coffee Shop]! What can I get started for you?”

Customer: “I’ll have a medium latte with extra foam.”

After ringing her up, I begin to make her coffee. The milk steams up beautifully and makes a nice layer of foam on her latte. I’m pleased with how well the drink came out. I hand the woman her order and go back to my station. I glance over at her and notice that she is staring at her drink without taking a sip.

Me: “Ma’am, is everything okay with your latte?”

Customer: “Well… it’s just that when [Owner] makes my latte, there are usually more bubbles in the foam.”

Me: “I’m sorry, would you like me to remake it for you? I can make your latte with even more foam if you would like!”

Customer: “No, the foam is fine, but when [Owner] makes it there are more bubbles.”

Me: “Are you sure you don’t want your drink remade? [Owner] isn’t here today, but [Coworker] or I can happily make the latte to your liking.”

Customer: “No, no…” *Sadly takes a sip of her latte*

Unsure of what to do, I tell her that if she changes her mind to please let us know. She eventually finishes her drink and starts to leave.

Me: “Have a good day!”

Customer: *Sighs* “It’s just that [Owner] always makes it with more bubbles…”

Why complain if you won’t let us try to fix it for you? Later, when I spoke to [Owner] about her, he said she always picks something arbitrary to complain about!

Due to a number of health complications, on top of long-term injuries from a car accident from over a decade ago, my mom is on a sizable regimen of medications. She sees a doctor every month to keep on top of her pain management and to make sure some of her conditions aren’t deteriorating.

When Mom gets out of her appointment, she says the doctor has sent in a refill to our pharmacy so we can pick it up in half an hour. Mom and I go to get lunch and then go to pick up her prescriptions.

The person at the counter then hits us with this:

Pharmacy Tech: “We refilled one of your prescriptions but not the second one. Since they are the same, we’re still deciding whether or not you need it.”

Mom: “They’re not exactly the same, actually. One is immediate release at a lower dose; the other is long-term release at a slightly higher dose. I just had an appointment with my doctor.”

Pharmacy Tech: “Well, if we decide you need both, we’ll fill the second one.”

Mom: “What do you mean, ‘if’?! Are you telling me that you will override my doctor’s decision regarding my personal healthcare?!”

Pharmacy Tech: “We’re just deciding whether or not you really need both.”

Mom: “That’s my doctor’s decision, actually. You know, the one with a medical degree and a contract with me to handle my personal healthcare? The prescription is valid. Please just fill it.”

The pharmacy tech taps a button on the computer in front of him and then shrugs.

Pharmacy Tech: “Okay, so, apparently, you only need one of these, so you will only be picking up one today.”

Mom: “I think I’m going to talk to my doctor about that.”

Pharmacy Tech: *A little smugly* “You do whatever you feel is necessary, ma’am.”

Mom called her doctor and talked with him about our situation. She was told to hang tight and it would be taken care of.

Apparently, the doctor called and chewed the pharmacy tech up one side and down the other for overriding his medical decisions, because thirty minutes later, Mom got both of her meds. The pharmacy tech wouldn’t look Mom in the eye for the rest of our visit.

On one hand, I could understand a phone call to double-check for possible mistakes or misunderstandings. Doctor handwriting is notoriously terrible, after all. On the other, simply deciding that one medication is not necessary, in direct contradiction to a doctor, is a good way to lose your job.

I come into work for my afternoon shift through the front of the store. Things aren’t looking too bad customer-wise… and I jinxed it with that thought.

A kid comes sprinting straight up to me who is, give or take, about six years old. His eyes are all on my purse which, I’ll admit, is pretty nice. I managed to snag a pricey brand that is patterned with the letter C in teal and lavender colors.

The kid comes to a stop, eyes glued to my purse.

Kid: “Can I see that purse?”

I get the creeping feeling of “this is going to go south” and give him a small, tight smile. I move my arm a little so he can see the pattern better but keep a grip on it.

Me: “Pretty cool, huh?”

Kid: *Frowns at me a little* “No, I said I want to see that purse.”

He reaches for it. I promptly tuck it firmly against my side.

Me: “Sorry, honey, look with your eyes only, okay?”

Kid: “No. You’re going to give it to me to look at.”

Me: “No, I’m not, son.”

Kid: *Turning it up to eleven instantly* “YOU CAN’T TELL ME ‘NO!’ GIVE ME THE PURSE OR I’M TELLING MY MOM!”

Me: “Go right ahead and tell her, kiddo.”

The kid spins around and sprints off.

I’m no idiot: if this is the kid, I hold no illusions about the behavior of the mom. I want my personal belongings nowhere near this train wreck. Since I’m right next to the employee door, I dart inside, stuff my purse in my locker and lock it.

A few minutes later, I’m signed in and walking the floor to the front of the store.

Kid: “THERE SHE IS, MOM!”

Sigh. So help me, if this is a sign of how my entire day is going to go, I quit… On the plus side, I can already see a coworker on the phone, calling the manager. We’re good about spotting those huge, flashing, neon signs that warn of danger.

The raging woman comes storming up to me just as I reach the registers.

Entitled Mom: “Did you just tell my child ‘no’?!”

Me: “Yes.”

Entitled Mom: “How dare you?! You do not tell my child ‘no!'”

Kid: “She wouldn’t let me hold her purse!”

Entitled Mom: “Where is the purse?”

Me: “I put it away.”

Entitled Mom: “My son wants to see your purse! Go get it for him!”

Me: “Nope.”

Entitled Mom: “My. Son. Wants. To. Hold. Your. Purse. Go. Get. It.”

Me: “Nope.”

Entitled Mom: “You will get your purse and give it to my son, or I will have you fired.”

Me: “Nope.”

Entitled Mom: “Manager! NOW!”

Me: “Yup.”

The manager is jogging our way, expression confused.

Manager: “What’s going—”

Entitled Mom: “I want this b**** fired!”

Manager: “I heard something about a purse…?”

Entitled Mom: “My son asked to hold a purse, and she refused to hand it to him!”

Me: “That’s because the purse is mine, ma’am.”

Manager: *Eyebrow raised* “My employee doesn’t have to let your son hold her personal property, ma’am.”

Entitled Mom: “You can’t refuse my son service!”

[Manager] glances at me, and I can read his thoughts.

Manager: “Yes, actually, we can. Ma’am, we have purses on the floor that your son is perfectly welcome to hold.”

Kid: *Screaming* “I WANT THAT ONE!”

Entitled Mom: “I don’t care about those purses. My son wanted a specific purse, and this b**** refused him.”

Manager: “I repeat: my employee doesn’t have to let your son hold her personal property. Now, unless you actually want to shop for a product that we’re actually selling, I think we’re done here.”

Kid: *Still full volume* “I WANT THE PURSE!”

Entitled Mom: *Seething* “I’ll call corporate!”

Manager: *Scribbling on a scrap of paper, holding it out, and smiling* “Here’s their phone number.”

The woman snatches the slip of paper out of his hand and storms off, angrily screeching child in tow.

Manager: “[My Name], go into the back and… I dunno, hide or something, until I call you.”

I stay in the back for quite a while. I find out later the woman whipped out her cell phone three feet away from the door, jabbed her finger on it like the phone had personally insulted her, and ranted into it for several minutes.

Our phone rang a few minutes after that, and the woman stared in at my manager with an expression of smug superiority as the manager picked it up.

Big Wig: “[Manager], you’re not going to believe the call I just got, and I’m not even sure if your employees are just bored or what…”

Manager: “Oh, I bet I can believe it. Let me guess, some lady just called because my employee wouldn’t give her personal property to a kid.”

Beat of silence.

Big Wig: “…so this isn’t a prank?”

According to my coworkers, who were shamelessly watching this debacle go down, the mom’s smug expression wavered when my manager grinned widely and then laughed.

Manager: “Nope. Sorry. It’s an actual thing.”

There was a long, deep sigh. My manager said he could almost see the Big Wig pinching the bridge of his nose.

Big Wig: “I’ll call her back and tell her that since no policies were broken, no action will be taken at this time. If she harasses your employees, just have her removed by the police. Ban her if she pushes it.”

He hung up. The lady’s phone rang. She snatched it up, and her face twisted into an expression of “lemon, no sugar,” and barked out:

Entitled Mom: “I will never shop at your store again!”

She then pulled her phone away from her ear as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, glares murderously at my manager, and disappeared into the sunset.

For once, the promise of never returning was kept, and there was rejoicing throughout the land.

This story is part of our Halfway-Through-2022 roundup!

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CONTENT WARNING: Attempted Sexual Assault

I was at a restaurant by myself, mostly killing time watching a sports game, when I happened to look up to see a man standing next to a nearby table, slightly hunched over it. It wouldn’t have stood out as anything special to me except the man saw me, got this conspiratory grin, and put his finger up to his mouth as if to shush me before going back to his seat at the table. I had no clue what that was about, so I mostly just forgot about it and went back to my meal. 

I ended up staying to watch the end of the game I’d started and so was there for some time after finishing my meal. It was quite a while later when I was bumped into by someone and so looked over to see what happened. At some point, the man at the other table had been joined by a woman, and that woman had bumped into me as they were getting up to go.

Seeing me looking at them, the man came up to me with a cocky grin on his face and said, in a voice that sounded both as if he was bragging and inviting me into some sort of joke:

Man: “We’re just heading back to my place to relax.”

He put an extra emphasis on the word “relax” which made it clear that was not at all what he was intending.

Now, I will fully admit that I’m not the most observant guy out there — far from it — but even I couldn’t fail to miss just how creepy and off this man was behaving. That caused me to pay enough attention to both of them to realize the women looked… off. She seemed a little confused, and she seemed to be having trouble walking as if dizzy. She almost seemed drunk except that when I looked at her glass on the table it appeared to be a soda. I stood up.

Me: “Ma’am, are you feeling okay?”

She looked slightly confused even as she said she was okay, in a voice that also sounded a bit off.

Hearing me listing all these symptoms, I’m sure this all sounds super wrong, but I need to stress that while all the symptoms were there, they were all very underplayed. She seemed very slightly confused, very slightly unstable. Every individual symptom was so minor it would be easy for anyone to dismiss it if they noticed anything at all, and even taken as a whole, I likely would have written it off as her having gotten slightly inebriated if the guy wasn’t still grinning at me as if he was proud of what was happening and otherwise doing everything he could to make me feel something very bad was happening here.

Eventually, even I managed to connect the dots and realize that the man may have just finished slipping something into this women’s drink right when I was looking up. I didn’t witness that, but he seemed to think I had. The only problem was that I still wasn’t sure if that was true. Again, I stress that all the symptoms were minor enough at this time that I couldn’t be certain that they weren’t my own imagination due to her date giving me the creeps. I had no definitive proof anything was actually happening, and I really wasn’t sure if, from a purely legal standpoint, I was allowed to physically intercede given my lack of evidence. Still, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing given my suspicions.

Me: *To the woman* “Would you like me to give you a ride home?”

Man: *Offended* “No! She’s coming home with me. She’s mine.”

Again, I really wasn’t sure I had a legal basis to do anything, so I just directed my question to the woman.

Me: “Ma’am, you don’t look well. Could I please take you back to your home?”

She didn’t give me a definitive answer, looking unsure what she wanted herself. Meanwhile, the man got increasingly aggressive. I got a distinct vibe that he thought I was trying to steal her away so I could be the one to take advantage of her, as if it never occurred to him that I might just not be okay with a woman being assaulted like that.

This made me more confident that my guess that he had done something was right, but I still wasn’t sure what I legally could do if he just escorted her out of the restaurant without her giving a clear answer that she didn’t want to go with him. Luckily, the man screwed himself over by being too aggressive with me, as this drew attention and eventually the manager, another woman, came over to ask what was wrong.

This is when the man started to look concerned. Before I could give any real answer, the man said:

Man: “Nothing’s wrong. I was just going!”

He high-tailed it out of the restaurant, leaving the woman behind.

After the manager offered to speak somewhere a bit more private, I told her what I suspected. She looked outraged.

Manager: “I’ll make sure to save that man’s credit information and everything else about him that we can, in case the police call. I’ll also have the staff save the rest of the woman’s drink somewhere so it can be tested.”

That had never even occurred to me.

Eventually, I ended up giving the woman a ride back to her apartment, and as time passed, her symptoms grew worse until it was clear that she must have been slipped something. I tried to explain what I thought happened during the drive, but I wasn’t really sure she was retaining it, and she ended up falling asleep, still fully dressed, in her bed at the apartment not long after I got her there.

Not sure what to do after that, I wrote her a very long note explaining everything that had happened, telling her the manager of the restaurant had saved everything in case she needed evidence, and giving my own contact information if she needed to reach out to me. Then, unable to think of anything else I could do, I let myself out, making sure the door was locked as I left. 

I never heard back from the woman. In fact, I never even learned her name. I honestly have no clue whether she pressed charges or what happened to the creep that drugged her. In retrospect, I likely should have called the police immediately and maybe had them take her to a hospital, but I’d been uncertain enough about my suspicions at first to not be sure I should waste the police time on it, and by the time it became evident, I guess I had already committed to driving her home and didn’t reevaluate my options. That was a clear mistake on my part that I regret now.

But worst of all to me is realizing how close I came to missing the signs. If the creep hadn’t been so certain that, just because I was another guy, I’d be okay with his drugging his date that he went and basically tried to brag about it on his way out, I would have never picked up on it. It’s scary how close he came to getting away with it.