How Old Are They?!

, , , , | Right | April 28, 2021

In our produce section, we have a little shelf with fruit and vegetables that are still good but will expire in two or three days, so they’re much cheaper. An older lady and an older man are shopping in this section. The lady reaches for a package of grapes for $0.85, and the man bumps her with his cart.

Old Man: “Put them back! I want to buy them!”

She refuses, so he keeps bumping her with his cart. She picks up the grapes to put them in her cart. He SLAMS his cart into her body, almost knocking her over, and yells:

Old Man: “I want those grapes! You can’t take them!”

Her solution? She opened the package and threw the grapes at the man, screaming back at him. Cops were called and the customers were taken outside to talk with them.

There were grapes everywhere.

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At Least He Ended Up On His Good Side!

, , , , , | Legal | April 27, 2021

This happened to my grandfather when he was seventeen. He had worked at a job in an amusement park for a while, and eventually, he got promoted to the ticket booth. While he was being trained, his trainer took him to the side and pointed out a man. He told him that if the man, who was extremely muscular and absolutely huge, were to come up to the booth and demand all the money, he should give it to him.

Fast forward to later in the summer. My grandfather was working on closing the booth at night when four fairly large teens came up and asked for tickets. My grandfather said no and they promised to beat him up.

Sure enough, when my grandfather was leaving, the four guys were waiting for him in the parking lot. My grandfather, who weighed in at under 100 pounds and was a skinny, scared teen at the time, prepared to fight when the four guys ran away. My grandpa, feeling pretty good about himself, turned to see the huge man standing there, protecting him!

Fast forward once more to many years later. My grandfather was sitting and reading the paper when he saw a familiar face on the front page. The man who protected him was actually a hitman for the mafia and had pistol-whipped an old woman because her husband had owed the mafia money! And that’s the story of how my grandfather was unwittingly protected by the mafia.

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Mess With The Cub, You Get The Papa Bear’s Claws

, , , , , , | Legal | April 25, 2021

When I’m fifteen, my family stays in a hotel for an extended time. This hotel has a few washers and dryers on site, which is very convenient for us. My father and I are unloading two dryers, mine on the bottom left and his on the top right. While I bend down to unload my dryer, I feel someone grab my backside.

I stand abruptly, turn, and find myself staring at a strange man. He grins at me, reaching out as if to grab me again. I slap his hands away.

Me: “Don’t touch me.”

Father: *Closing his dryer door* “I didn’t touch you.” *Seeing the other man* “Did you touch her?”

Man: *Stepping back* “No.”

Me: “He grabbed my butt.”

My father is the kind of person who catches spiders in the house and releases them outside, so I never thought he’d be the type of person to do what happens next. He grabs the other man by the back of his neck and slams his face into the dryer door hard enough that it leaves a small dent, before throwing him backward. The other man stumbles, stunned.

My father stays standing between us.

Father: “You should go now.”

Man: *Glaring* “A**hole.”

My father takes a step toward the man.

Father: “Leave.”

The man made a speedy exit. We stopped at the front desk and reported him. The police came and took our statements asking the usual — what was I wearing, what was I doing, did I engage with the man at all before he touched me? I noticed the officer wasn’t writing anything down as he asked, only looking at me with a raised eyebrow before saying they probably wouldn’t be able to do anything.

I never heard anything about it again but we did get charged to repair the dryer door. My father contacted the hotel’s corporate office, apologizing for the dent and explaining what had happened. The charge was removed without comment.

This story is part of our Best Of April 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of April 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of April 2021 roundup!

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Not What We Meant When We Said, “Take A Seat”

, , , | Right | CREDIT: Here4SatisfyingDrama | April 25, 2021

I was a college student working at a small, homely diner for the summer. My coworkers were taking orders at the counter and giving customers number cards, and I was bringing the orders out to tables labeled with the appropriate numbers.

One elderly man didn’t grab his number card to put on his table, so that meant the next lady in line took his card. There were also now two separate orders with the same number label.

I grabbed the first tray of food with that number and looked for the number card, which was on the lady’s table. I went back to the kitchen window and noticed that the next tray of food had the same number, so I brought it out to that same lady’s table, only to be met with confused looks since everyone at that table already had their food.

That’s when the elderly man chimed in. He stormed over and shouted:


I was pretty stunned at the shouting, but thankfully, my manager walked over to calm this man down. She explained the situation with the number cards.

Manager: “We will re-make your order and have it out for you shortly.”

That was apparently unacceptable to this man, as he walked back to his table, picked up his chair, and CHUCKED IT ACROSS THE ENTIRE RESTAURANT, hitting the wall. The impact broke one of the legs and dispersed a bunch of screws in the area.

Thankfully, it somehow didn’t hit anybody.

I was expecting my manager to kick him out, but I guess she didn’t want to get the police involved because he ended up staying at his table —  now missing a chair — and waiting on his food.

Needless to say, I was a bit scared when bringing his food to him a few minutes later, but he just angrily ate his food in silence.

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This Story Comes With A Kicker

, , , , | Right | March 30, 2021

I work as a computer technician, usually in people’s businesses. I go out to an exclusive country club in my city to replace the touchscreen on the point-of-sale system in the bar. While I’m replacing the screen, I notice that the power cable on the new screen isn’t the same as it is on the old screen; I will need to get inside the cabinet under the POS in order to run the new power cable to the new screen.

The bartender is present at this time, opening a bottle of wine. A few minutes later, I hear the bartender leave the bar area.

Still torso deep in the cabinet, I have just started running the new cable when I hear someone walk behind the bar.

Customer: “Boy!”

I’m not sure who is shouting or what they are shouting about so I stop moving to better listen. 

Customer: *Yelling* “Hey, boy!”

This is followed by someone kicking me forcefully in the side of my leg. I quickly slide out of the counter to see a large grey-headed man towering above me. I’m expecting some sort of emergency.

Me: “What?” 

Customer: “Don’t ‘what’ me! Scotch neat and a martini. Dirty. Gin. Up.”

I am still on the floor, on my back, covered in dust, and I imagine I have the most confused look on my face.

Me: “Umm… The bartender should be back in a few minutes. Did you just kick me?”

Customer: *Stomps his foot* “We’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes! Make the d*** drinks!” 

That’s a lie; the bartender has been gone under five minutes. I stand up, brushing off some dust, and ask again:

Me: “Did you kick me?”

Even though I am clearly taller than him, he puffs out his chest in an unsuccessful attempt to appear threatening.

Customer: “I saw you pouring wine earlier!”

Me: “That was the bartender.”

Customer: “Just get the d*** drinks!”

I point to the emblem on my shirt:

Me: “I work for [Computer Service Company]. The bartender will be—”

Customer: *Loudly talking over me* “SCOTCH NEAT. DIRTY MARTINI. UP.”

Just then, the staff door swings open violently and in rushes the kitchen manager.

Manager: “Sir, you can’t be back here. Stop harassing the computer guy!”

The man abruptly turned to face the kitchen manager for a few seconds and then looked back at me, face flushed, with the most bewildered look. He mumbled something quietly about bad service and shuffled back to his table. His friends at the table appeared to be supremely embarrassed.

The kitchen manager decided to cut him off from the bar for the day.

I wish I had been wiser at the time, but sadly, I didn’t call the police. My boss heavily discouraged calls to the police involving this hoity-toity place, as business from this place meant more to him than our safety and comfort. Instead, I just quickly finished up my work and got out of there.

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