Harassment Meets Dismemberment

, , , , , , , | Working | August 24, 2019

My best female friend is a waitress at a small restaurant. Just another waiter and the owners man the kitchen. My friend is very obviously of Asian descent and her coworker has been harassing her, telling her that he has never slept with an Asian girl and that he wants her to be his first. My friend repeatedly reports him to the owner, but he just tells her that she can live with it.

I’m at her restaurant waiting for her to finish her shift when her coworker makes yet another inappropriate comment. My friend, red with anger, approaches him and hits him as hard as she can in the groin. The guy is in so much pain he can’t breathe, and my friend grabs his hair and pulls him towards her and says, “If you ever talk to me like that again, I will make sure you’ll leave no kids behind.”

By this moment, one of the owners has come out to see what’s going on, and quickly realises what happened. He shouts at my friend that she can’t do that, and that her coworker is in so much pain he can’t even breathe. Her answer? “If I can live with his harassment, he can live with the pain.”

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This Little One Knows How To Get Ahead

, , , , | Related | August 14, 2019

(When my niece was born, I had a shoulder injury that prevented me from picking her up. Instead, I’d put my forehead to hers and say, “Headbutt!” Fast forward a few months. I make it through PT and am away a couple of months for business. One of my first visits is obviously to see this adorable little one. When she sees me, she immediately reaches up to show she wants to be picked up.)

Me: “Oh, hi, [Niece]! Aren’t you still adorable?! Have you grown bigger since I’ve bee– F****** s***!”

(As soon as she reached level with my face, she reeled back and then slammed her head into my mouth, headbutting me with all the force her tiny body could muster.)

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Not What You Expected Skinny Noodles To Be

, , , , , , | Working | July 8, 2019

(I am at a mall and decide to get lunch at the food court. I’m not up for fries and don’t feel like eating meat, so I take some fried noodles with veggies at a place with the usual westernized Asian fare. I get a plate and pay, then start to eat. After a couple of bites, I feel something in my mouth and pull a very long, thick, black hair from my mouth. I’m not the most squeamish person, but my appetite is gone. I decide to tell the lady who served me and is currently turning over the mountain of noodles they keep on their flat stove. She is not wearing a hat or hairnet, and has, well, quite a long, thick, black ponytail.)

Me: “Hi. I ordered these noodles and found a hair in them…”

(Almost before I can finish my sentence the lady barks back at me.)

Server: “That is not my hair. That is your hair. You put it in the food to get more free food!”

(I have a braid, but my hair is brownish-blond at the outgrown roots and a faded red in the lengths. It’s obviously not mine. The black hair is so thick, you can see it coiled on top of the yellowish noodles without having to look too close.)

Me: “Well, I can’t tell you whose it is, but it’s not mine. And I don’t want…”

(“…any free food; I just wanted to let you know!” is what I intend to say, but she again loudly speaks over me.)

Server: “No! You fat Germans always just want more food! Eat half and more, complain, and get another plate free!”

(She then TOOK THE PLATE from the counter between us and CHUCKED THE REST OF THE NOODLES at me! I instinctively stepped back but got some on my shoes nonetheless. I moved awkwardly and slipped on the saucy mess, falling rather unlucky on my hand. It hurt. A lot. I started crying and felt very shaken. A couple from a nearby table came over and some others got up, as well. Somebody told me to get up and sat me on a chair. Meanwhile, the server was shouting stuff in a language I didn’t understand. A guy in a suit from mall management came over and asked if I needed an ambulance. The man from the couple helping me talked to me, told me he was some sort of sports coach, and asked to see my wrist. He gently prodded it and moved it, proclaiming that it was probably not broken but I should get it checked anyway. I declined the ambulance; the suit-guy got me an ice pack from somewhere. They stayed with me until my boyfriend could pick me up, as I was still quite queasy, to drive me to the emergency room near our home. In the end, nothing was broken. The owner of the Asian shop contacted me through the mall and apologised a lot. He said his sister was going through some rough personal stuff and just snapped. I was almost sorry for her. But I will never enjoy Asian noodles without a bad feeling in my bones.)

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An Alarming Response

, , , , , | Friendly | June 19, 2019

(After a drink at a local bar, my friends and I head to a local all-night burger restaurant for a bite to eat. My friend realizes his wallet is in the car, and it’s pouring rain. To get to his car more quickly, he tries to leave through the back door instead of the front and sets off a horrible, wailing alarm. The staff is very understanding but at a loss for what to do. A key is needed to shut off the alarm, and the manager has gone home for the night. While they call him in, my friend, who feels terrible, is standing in the rain, holding the heavy door open so the sound is muffled inside the restaurant. The staff informs us that the manager will be in soon and drops off our food. A minute later, a drunk customer from another table stumbles up to us. We recognize him as a patron of the bar we have just left.)

Drunk Guy: *angrily* “Who did that?”

Me: “We’re so sorry–”

Drunk Guy: *pointing at me* “Was it you, girlie?”

Me: “No, it was my friend, but it was an accident–”

(As I’m speaking, he grabs my glass of water and takes a big drink out of it. He then proceeds to lean forward and spit the mouthful of water back into my face. My friends leap out of their seats, his friends rush over to pull him back, food and drinks are knocked everywhere, and I’m standing there in shock, dripping.)

My Friend: “[My Name]! Are you okay?!”

Me: “My… my glasses…”

(It was all I could think to say. As the staff ran over, the drunk guy ran out of the restaurant, hopped in a car, and drove away. The cops were called immediately and got there just after the stunned restaurant manager arrived with the alarm key. While they were both interviewing me and my friends, the drunk guy drove back into the parking lot and was promptly arrested for assault and DUI. His friends were apologetic and tried to pay for my meal, but the restaurant had already remade all of our food and comped it. We pooled all the cash we had between the four of us to tip the staff, who were nothing short of amazing the entire time. I’m not sure what the moral to this story is. Look out for alarmed exit doors?)

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The Gift Card Can’t Be Used In Prison Cafeterias

, , , , | Right | June 7, 2019

(I’m in a large, well-known store, waiting in line at customer service. The next customer is called.)

Customer Service Agent: “How can I help you?”

Customer: *loudly* “I need to pay for this with my gift card and the cashier wouldn’t help me. You need to do it.”

Customer Service Agent: “I don’t see why there would be a problem if you have the money on the card. The total is $[total]; go ahead and scan your card.”

Customer: “I don’t have it with me.”

Customer Service Agent: “That is a problem, then. I can’t use the card unless you have it with you; you’ll have to go get it if you want to use it. Do you have another form of payment? Or, I can hold this for you while you get your card.”

Customer: *starting to yell* “You just said I could do it; now you have to! All these people heard you say you could use my card!”

Customer Service Agent: “We have to have the gift card to use it. We have no way to access the card information or balance.”

Customer: *yelling* “My card is at home. H-O-M-E, home! I rode the bus for two hours to get here to buy this, and I’m not going home without it.”

(The customer suddenly lunges forward, reaches over the counter, and grabs and yanks the agent’s shirt, causing her to lose her balance and fall. The second agent at the desk grabs the phone and calls 911 as another customer rushes forward to pull the first customer away from the desk. Within moments, a police officer is present, as there is a substation actually in the store. The offending customer is still yelling about not riding the bus home to get the card as he is led away, now in handcuffs.)

Police Officer: “No, you aren’t going home to get the card. You’ve earned yourself a free car ride, and it’s not to your house.”

(The agent said she was okay, but she was checked by EMTs, as she’d hit her head on the edge of the counter when she fell, and then was led away by store management. All of us in line had to give our names and phone numbers to another store employee in case they needed to contact us for a statement, but I never got a call so I don’t know how it ended.)

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