I am on holiday in the United States. I am shopping for some souvenirs in a souvenir shop when the Samoan lady who runs the place approaches me.

Owner: “Where are you from?”

Me: “Scotland.”

Her face lit up! She very excitedly ran into the other room and got out her Susan Boyle CD and a copy of “Braveheart”.

I don’t know why, but it seemed genuinely sweet, and we chatted for a long while about how excited she was to meet a “Scot” and how much she would love to visit. I told her I would give her the tour when she does so!

I was riding my bike home late Friday night.  I had full reflectors and lights because I’m many things, but one thing I am not is an idiot. 

My route took me past a local topless club. 

In the parking lot of the bar, groups of frat boy types were doing the typical donuts and hydraulic bounces in the parking lot. I rode by, bored and generally uninterested. 

The D****iest D****e peeled out of the parking lot in his Dodge Charger with the intent to run me off the road. (I know because he and his friends were mocking me for riding a bike as I waited at the stoplight, and he loudly declared his intentions.) 

I swerved and managed to dodge, but I still rear-ended a parked SUV and face-planted into the rear windshield. I suffered a broken nose, a moderate concussion, and a sprained wrist. 

The jerk missed the brake pedal with his foot because he was so drunk, jumped the sidewalk, and hit a brick wall. 

The club bouncer called 911 for me, as the d****es were too busy tending to their D**kface-In-Chief. Police and an ambulance crew arrived and got everything sorted out. 

The Number One Moron Who Tried To Run Me Off The Road blew about two and a half times the legal limit — the legal limit is .08 and he blew .21 — and was subsequently arrested. 

I was getting patched up in the emergency room. Late Stage Alcoholism Face was there, too, as a precaution. (He wasn’t hurt, but I’ve been informed that it’s policy that all people arrested for DUI are assessed in the ER if an accident occurred before being booked.)

The father of The Worst Person I’ve Encountered This Month spent nearly an hour yelling his idiot son, loudly, for the whole hospital to hear. Statements were given, and contact information was shared. It turned out that Creepazoid McGarglebrains wasn’t even twenty-one yet, raising some serious questions about how the topless club even let him in.

The following morning, The Father called me personally even though their lawyer had strongly urged him against this. 

He apologized profusely for T**tbrain Fartharder’s actions. He explained that his son wasn’t charged with assault for trying to ram me because he had plausible deniability by claiming he was just trying an idiot stunt and messed up. But he was dead to rights on DUI resulting in injury and underage drinking. 

The father said he would write me a blank check to cover every dime of my hospital visit and a new bike and helmet, plus a fifteen percent round-up for my troubles. We made a handshake agreement that I wouldn’t sue and that I wouldn’t inflate the figure. 

The father also assured me that he was ashamed of how his son had turned out, that he would not let the kid use the family lawyer, and that Dingleberry was cut off from family money until he completed two years of community college on his own dime and stayed sober for two years. 

I chose to agree because he was making a good-faith effort and I don’t need the hassle of going to court.

I fly into Philadelphia on a connecting flight. The first plane is so small that all overhead baggage has to be checked at the gate. As I get off in Philadelphia, I wait at the sign that says, “Gate Check Bags Here.” Two attendants are standing there, talking.

Attendant #1: “And I told him, I said, ‘You ain’t my man no more, n*****! You go—” *To an elderly couple walking by* “Have a nice day! Thank you for flying with us.” *Back to her coworker* “And he had the audacity to try to tell me how I’m gonna raise my child! This motherf***er went and f***ed some w**** and still tells me what to do.”

The baggage starts arriving. [Attendant #2] is unloading the bags, and people are picking them up, but [Attendant #1] is still rambling on, swearing and complaining the whole time. I think maybe she is supposed to just supervise, but the annoyed look on [Attendant #2]’s face tells me she should be unloading with him. My bag appears and [Attendant #2] brings it over.

Me: *Looking at [Attendant #2]* “Thank you for doing your job.”

Attendant #2: *Trying not to smile* “You’re welcome, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

Attendant #1: “Yeah, we both working here, you know?”

Me: “I don’t see you doing anything but running your mouth and giving [Airline] a bad reputation.”

She started toward me and I pulled my phone out. She retreated, glaring and giving me the middle finger. I snapped her photo and sent it to the airline to tell them about her behavior.

They replied with a form letter about how they take things seriously, it will be looked into, and so on. I don’t know if anything really happened, though.

I don’t care how you talk at home but there are definitely things you don’t say in front of customers.

This story was relayed to me by a coworker. My coworker was stocking in the produce section when he spotted a customer with a bag of grapes in their cart that they had opened and were going to town on.

Coworker: “Grapes are sold by weight here, so you need to pay for those before you can eat them.”

Customer: “I know. I don’t want to pay too much, so I’m making it lighter first.”

My coworker was stunned by the brazenness and ended up getting our manager, who ended up forcing the customer to leave after paying for the grapes, with an added charge to cover the amount they’d eaten.

Even when being forced out, the customer seemed completely baffled that their “life hack” wasn’t acceptable.

I’m an administrative assistant for a school within a large university. I mainly work under the associate dean of the college and answer her phone line when she isn’t here or is busy.

We’re coming up on deadlines for applications, and we’ve had a ton of fee waiver requests since the fee is a little steep at $90.

Me: “Good morning, [School].”

Student: “Hi, I’m applying there and haven’t submitted my application yet because I’m waiting for a fee waiver. Is it still possible to get one?”

At this point in the admissions cycle, 99% of the fee waiver codes have been given out and we’re saving a handful for special cases. I completely understand why some applicants can’t afford the fee, but there’s nothing I can do about it as a lowly assistant.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but all of the fee waivers have been given out at this point. Can I help you with anything else?”

Student: *Dejectedly* “No… I guess not.”

Me: “All right, then. Have a nice day.”

Two seconds later, the dean’s line starts ringing. I clock instantly that it’s the same number that just called the general line. Eyebrow raised, I answer.

Me: “Good morning, [School].”

Student: *Click*

I suppose he was trying to get around me to someone higher up, but he could have just asked for me to transfer him.