We went to a casual chain restaurant for lunch, and our server was extremely high. He was rude and kind of ignored us, but whatever; it’s [Restaurant].

Then, he came back with our water and spilled an entire glass of ice water on my eleven-month-old’s head. He laughed and walked away, leaving us with a hysterical baby and only a couple of napkins.

Another server came over to help, and at that point, we were all so pissed that we decided to leave, making my two older kids start to cry because they wanted milkshakes.

I went to the counter.

Me: “We just wanted to tell you that we’re leaving.”

Our server started to attack US for being mad that he laughed at spilling water on my baby’s head.

The manager got us the milkshakes to go and gave us a promo for next time, but we never went there again.

I totally understand that mistakes happen, but to laugh about it because you’re stoned at work is unacceptable.

A guest comes down asking for my assistance in her room due to a disagreement between herself and her boyfriend.

Guest: “[Boyfriend] has caused some property damage and I just want someone there in the room with me while I pack a bag to leave so nothing else is damaged.”

I grab the cordless and head up as there are two of us on the desk today. I get to the room with her, and I just chill in the living room while the guy is in the bedroom packing his bag and speaking quietly on the phone.

I don’t go near him as he isn’t doing anything to cause alarm and is packing a bag to leave. I can’t hear a single thing he is saying and just make small talk with the guest and her kids.

Ten minutes into waiting up there, a woman barges in as the door was not completely shut and she starts going off on the other lady and myself.

Woman: “I heard my son tell you multiple times to get out of the room and you’re just being rude and talking s*** back to him!”

The man comes out of the bedroom with his bag packed and starts getting on me too.

Man: “That’s right! You need to leave the room!”

I’m bewildered how this went from me quietly being there to make sure no damage happens to hotel property to getting yelled and screamed at.

At this point, I have officially called the cops. I stay in the room still, as I have noticed some hotel items damaged in the room earlier. I stay on the line with the police, while this woman still yells and screams in my face until a policeman finally appears in the doorway.

He enters, I get off the phone, and ask to be let out of the room since there are police there now to make sure no damage happens to the room. He lets me out, and another officer comes up and asks me for my side of what happened. 

I explain everything to him and let him know that the woman is not allowed on our premises after she leaves with her son. I get on the elevator which so happens to have my coworker on it as she was coming up to see if I was alright, as thirty minutes have passed by this time!

I look at her and just break down: straight-up panic attack. It takes me a good two hours to fully be okay again.

Not even two months later, the guy hits me up on a dating app. I told him to go check on his momma, see if she has yelled at any more front desk assistants since me, and blocked him.

CONTENT WARNING: Domestic Violence

I am in my mid-twenties and have been with my boyfriend since my teens. My relationship with him has gradually deteriorated, escalating from him cheating to verbally and physically abusing me. I’ve stupidly stayed with him, believing it’s my fault, and that he’ll change.

While camping late at night at a music festival, I catch him talking on the phone to yet another girl he’s cheating on me with. We argue, he clocks me in the face for “being nosy,” and then he storms off to get drunk for the night. I sob myself to sleep.

In the morning, I find a note in my shoe outside our tent. I’m filled with dread, assuming it’s from one of our angry neighbors who was kept awake by the fight. Then I read this:

“I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I want you to know that nobody who claims to love you would ever talk to you or treat you the way you were treated last night. You have a beautiful soul, and this is not your fault. Please leave him, and find someone who truly deserves you.”

I immediately packed up and left, leaving him stranded, and never spoke to him again. To the writer of the note: you will never know what you did for me that day. Thank you for saving my life.

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I’m working at a restaurant. I get a party of five older ladies who seem pretty finicky from the jump about various things, so I’ve already got a bad feeling about the table. I’m doling out drinks from a tray. It’s too crowded to set it down, and we don’t use tray jacks. I’m pretty experienced with trays, though, and figure it’s fine.

When I get to the last one… I’m still not entirely sure what happened. I just feel something strong pushing forward and look to my side, and it’s the last red sangria toppling down, in the direction of the five ladies. It lands right in the dead center of the table, creating a splash zone that drenches everyone, but the one who gets it the worst is right next to me and wearing all white.

I’m still not entirely sure how it happened. It was extremely windy earlier on — we’re on the patio — so part of me wants to believe it was a rogue wind gust. But I’m guessing more likely I had the sangria too off-center toward the rear of the tray, my balancing reactions were a little off, and I tilted the tray too far forward to compensate.

I sort of just stand there for a minute in shock with a “f*** my life” look on my face, apologize profusely, and go to get them a bunch of towels. I get the manager so he can talk to them and comp as much as possible to make it right.

He only takes off like $35. I probably would’ve taken more in the event that the clothes were ruined. H***, I would’ve given them money from my pocket if I weren’t financially hurting right now.

I carry on with the service, and the ladies are surprisingly chill and understanding, saying things happen, etc. Honestly, I can’t believe how cool they are about it. I still feel awful. I give them another $60 worth of coupons and whatever I can try and grab at the end.

They even still tip 20% on the pre-comp amount. It sucks that it happened, but I’m really grateful the customers were nice. It could have gone so much worse.

CONTENT WARNING: Violence

I am a teacher in an EBD (Emotional and Behavioral Disorder) school; basically, we have kids with aggressive and violent tendencies. I have a class that’s typically much calmer than the others, so when another teacher asks me for help, I don’t think much of leaving them to get on with their work. I’m gone for less than a minute.

When I return, [Child #1] is strangling [Child #2]. After stopping it, finding out what went down and that it was pure boredom from [Child #1], and then dealing with him insulting me, I escort [Child #1] to the Head of Year office and [Child #2] to the nurse’s office. I explain to both what happened. [Child #2] has some bruising going on and the nurse opts to get the hospital involved, pretty worried for the child.

I head back to class only to find that [Child #1] is back. I send him back to the Head of Year office when he starts insulting me again. A few minutes later, The Head of Year 11 — their year head — turns up at my door, so I step out to speak to her.

Head of Year 11: “Why is [Child #1] with me again?”

Me: “As soon as he came back, he started insulting me. And I didn’t think it was appropriate for him to be back in class just after he strangled another child.”

Head of Year 11: “It’s not really a big deal, though, is it?”

Me: “He strangled another student.”

Head of Year 11: “Yes, but that student is fine, so it doesn’t matter.”

Me: “He’s gone to hospital!”

Head of Year 11: “It’s not really a big deal, though. There was no blood.”

Me: “I don’t want [Child #1] back in my class.”

Head of Year 11: “He’s coming back to the class; you don’t have a choice. He’s your student; you have to teach him. It wasn’t a big deal. Suck it up and do your job.”

They wander off. I get the Head of my department.

Head of Department: “Not sure what you want me to do about it. He’s your student and Miss [Head of Year 11] is right; it’s not really a big deal and you need to suck it up and do your job.”

They can’t seem to figure out why they struggle to keep staff and were shocked when I handed my notice in.