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Oh, My God(daughter)!

, , , , , , | Legal | December 7, 2022

My goddaughters and their mother were staying at a local bed and breakfast near me to visit and, as such, I was getting some quality time with the kids. My friend and her family keep REALLY late hours, so it was late enough that some kids would be preparing for bed already by the time dinner had ended. The still wide-awake kids asked if I’d take them to the park. I agreed, and we stayed there until it was dark out before it was time to walk them home.

I should mention here that I’m male, and I volunteer with kids enough that I’m quite familiar with having to prove to strangers that I’m not secretly a pedophile kidnapping kids. I’ve discussed the problems I have with this with the girls as part of explaining why gender roles — and other stereotypes — are harmful and generally trying to get them to be more supportive of non-traditional folks.

As we walked, I noticed a police officer drive pass the small road we were on and then stop, back up, and turn onto our road. There was nothing else down this road except us, so I could only assume he’d seen the man walking with two young girls — of an entirely different race — down a dark alley and wanted to make sure everything was okay.

Me: “I think the police officer is coming to talk to us. He probably wants to know why I have you kids out here so late. I’ll take care of him, so don’t worry. Just answer his questions nicely if he asks you anything.”

As expected, the officer pulled up next to us and wound the window down.

Officer: “Have you seen a fourteen-year-old girl with red hair?”

[Goddaughter] interrupted the officer in a very determined voice.

Goddaughter: “Godfather [My Name] is not stealing us, and he’s not a bad guy! We love him!”

Officer: “Umm… what?”

It turned out that, in this case, I had been unfair in my presumptions. The officer did drive down the alley to talk to us but only to see if we had seen a missing girl. However, my goddaughter’s preemptive defending of my honor was one of those suspiciously specific denials that just makes you look more guilty, so I had to hasten to explain the context of her comments.

Officer: “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve dealt with that with my own girls enough times to know what it’s like. But thank you, young lady, for letting me know that your godfather isn’t a bad guy.”

Sadly, we weren’t able to help the officer with his missing child, but [Goddaughter]’s mother had a good laugh at her daughter’s adamant defense of me. And, of course, I made sure to let the girl know I loved her, too.

Hot And Ready… For A Fight

, , , , , , , | Right | December 6, 2022

I am working the opening shift at [Pizza Chain] with two other people. It’s around 10:40 am, so we are putting everything in the oven so we can open at 11:00. Hearing a knock at the door, I look up from cutting a pizza and see a woman teetering in front of the door with two small children next to her. I notice her parked car taking up two spots before noticing we still have fifteen minutes before we opened. The assistant manager is a stickler for the rules, so he tells us to not let the person in until we open. I’m fine with that since we don’t have anything ready.

Cut to 11:00 when I go to unlock the door before taking the register. The lady and her two kids enter. The kids run to the table in the corner, while the lady stumbles to the counter. I can now smell the alcohol emanating from her, and I solve the mystery of the parking situation. She orders a couple of pizzas and breadsticks — nothing too fancy. I proceed to give her the food, and as I hand it to her, she blurts out that she wants to talk to the manager.

Knowing something is about to go down, I proceed to get him and return to the oven. Nothing is coming out, giving me plenty of time to listen to the conversation between them — not that it’s hard, as the woman immediately starts screaming at my manager.

Woman: “You didn’t open on time! You were supposed to open at 10:30!”

I guess she knows our schedule better than we employees.

Woman: “And my food took way too long to make!”

We serve Hot-n-Ready pizzas, so as soon as I got the money in the register, I turned around and grabbed the food.

The manager is trying to calm down the drunk woman, who is threatening to call the police now. He is halfway through a plea before being cut off by the woman, belting out what will become his future nickname:

Woman: “YOU OL’ [RACE] B*****D!”

She stormed out of the place, leaving the food with the kids still sitting at the table. She walked back in a few minutes later, now carrying a paintball gun she had grabbed from her van.

The other coworker and I had made our way to the back of the store to burst out in laughter. The manager was still standing at the register, in a combined state of confusion and anger. The fun was only beginning.

Upon seeing the paintball gun, the manager asked me to call the police. However, the police were already pulling up. Apparently, while the woman was grabbing her paintball gun, she actually did call the police. The officer made his way into the store and took a look around, noticing the drunk woman in the corner of the store with a paintball gun and two kids, the manager at the register slowly turning red, and two employees stifling laughter.

The officer tried to get both sides of the story. The manager calmed down and told him our side of it. However, the woman was arguing with us the entire time. By now, the officer could smell her new perfume, Eaux de Jack Daniels, and gave her a breathalyzer. Five minutes later, she was being carried out of the store in handcuffs.

Defending This Guy Is A Tall Order

, , , , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: ew1959 | November 28, 2022

I’m a professional, dressed in a suit and tie. As I’m a bit over six feet tall, I’m often asked to get things off the upper shelves for shorter shoppers when I’m shopping. If asked nicely — 99.9% do ask nicely — I’m glad to help. That .1%, though…

I have just gotten off work, and I need to buy groceries for the week. A grandmotherly-looking lady who’s maybe 4’10” asks me if I’d please get something she couldn’t reach. She is very sweet, and once I’ve gotten her item, she thanks me and goes on her way.

At that point, a man who’s maybe 5’2″ yells at me from halfway down the aisle.

Man: *Rudely* “Come get this [item] for me!”

He makes it sound like an order — no please or anything. I ignore him. This pisses him off, so he gets louder and begins cursing very loudly. I walk past him, just doing my shopping and ignoring his outburst.

Man: “Hey, dumbs***, I’m talking to you!”

I stop.

Me: “You need to lower your voice.”

Man: *Even louder* “You helped her; now f****** help me!”

Me: “She was nice and polite. You’re a jerk, so no.”

Man: *Now screaming* “I WANT YOUR MANAGER!”

I break up laughing.

Me: “When did this store’s employees start wearing suits?”

People are watching at this point. I start to walk away, but this jerk grabs my arm and tries to pull me around.

Sadly, I have a severe case of PTSD from a situation when I was a teen. I spin around and punch him his the face; I don’t mean to, but it’s a reflex to being bullied. He goes down, bleeding from his now broken nose.

People start rushing over. I’m beside myself, saying I’m sorry. The man gets up screaming about having me arrested.

I guess someone called the cops or they were already in the store as they appear in what seems like seconds.

Man: “This guy just walked up and punched me!”

A couple dozen witnesses tell the officers what really happened. One officer goes to watch the security video and comes back.

Officer: *To me* “Would you like to press charges for assault?”

Then, the guy freaked out and took a swing at a police officer. He was arrested for assault, assault against a law enforcement officer, and public vulgarity. I didn’t even know there was a law about that last one.

I found out at the trial that this was his fourth time being arrested for similar offenses and that he’d been banned from four other stores in the area. As a repeat offender, he received six years in state prison and to $10,000 fine.

Tell Us Where This Hotel Is So We Can Never, Ever Stay There

, , , , , | Legal | CREDIT: BecentiComposer | November 24, 2022

I work in a hotel. A week or so ago, a newly hired housekeeper found a .357 Magnum with the hammer cocked in one of the rooms and freaked out. She called the head housekeeper, who grabbed it without gloves (she got in trouble for that) and took it to the office. The police were called and they took it away.

Our hotel is a budget hotel and used to be a lot worse where violence, drugs, sex work, and crime in general are concerned. Our new management has been cracking down on that and issuing Do-Not-Rents as necessary — a lot, sadly. The last gun violence that occurred here was two years ago when a murder fugitive had a shootout with police and died. Since then, we’ve had the occasional high-strung guest point a gun at staff, but nothing beyond that.

Today, a young guy with multiple facial tattoos walks in. There is a ton of cursing on his side but I’m not going to type that all out; it’s in nearly every sentence.

Guy: “I stayed in room last week, and I forgot my gun. I need it back.”

Me: “Okay. Can I have your ID, please?”

I know the room wasn’t registered to him; it was registered to a single female with no other guests listed.

Guy: “Why? I just need my gun back.”

Me: “I need to verify your identity before I can give out information for your room, sir, for security purposes.”

Guy: “What?! That’s stupid. I forgot my gun. I told you it was there, and I know you have it. No one else asked you for a gun, just me, so why do I need an ID?”

Me: “Again, sir, it’s for security purposes and the safety of our guests. I am not allowed to release private information to anyone other than the registered guests. I am not going to violate that policy, especially where firearms are concerned. If you cannot produce a valid ID, I cannot release any information. I’m sorry.”

Guy: “I know you have my gun, and you’re not going to give it to me. That’s stealing! I’m going to stand here until you give me back my property.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t allow loitering.”

Guy: “I’m not loitering! You’re not giving me my stuff!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police and have them escort you off the property.”

Guy: “Then call them! I don’t care!”

So, I called them, and they arrived fairly quickly. After forty-five minutes or so, they arrested him and took him away. I’m guessing he either had a warrant or was a felon in possession of a firearm. I’m not sure why it took so long to identify him, though.

So Much For Follow-Through

, , , , , , | Working | November 15, 2022

I work in a Swiss city police dispatch department. It’s a Sunday morning, around 6:30 am when I start my shift, when someone rings our doorbell. Whenever someone does that, our observation screen switches to the camera at the front door. The guys from the night shift recognize him from ringing about an hour before, demanding that we find him a hotel room. This time, he’s here asking for his car keys, which we don’t have.

I tell the guys from the night shift to leave and I take over. I ask the visitor to come in and send a couple of officers out to talk to him since he’s clearly inebriated. Meanwhile, I do some digging in our systems to figure out if we even have his keys; we confiscate them in the case of drunk driving, for example, and tell people to come pick them up once they’re sober. I can’t find him in our records, unfortunately. However, we have the ability to look at entries of another police organization. As I said, I work for city police, but there’s also cantonal police, which is akin to state troopers in the US. 

I find an entry in their records about our visitor, but it’s not at all what I imagined happened. Turns out that he was on his way from his home to a campsite around twenty minutes out from our city where he has a permanent spot. His license plate was scanned on the way over and our colleagues received an alert because it was registered that the owner of the vehicle was missing and possibly suicidal. Once they arrived at the campsite and found him, he told the officers that he wasn’t suicidal but that he had been drinking before driving over, and also after arriving. Because he also claimed to have been drinking after arriving, they had to bring him to the hospital to extract some blood for analysis and to make sure he really wasn’t suicidal. So far, pretty much standard operating procedure.

Once they were done with everything, however, at around 11:30 pm, the officers were radioed to head out to another case. Instead of driving the suspect home (remember, they got him there from his campsite a mere twenty minutes away), they dropped him off in front of a hotel in the city. Now, to be fair, this is a hotel where you can randomly pop in and ask for a room and they’ll let you stay if they have a vacancy, even in the middle of the night.

You can already guess that that wasn’t the case and the hotel was completely occupied. But by that point, the officers had already driven off. So this poor fellow was left stranded in our city, still somewhat drunk and without a cellphone, and wandered around for hours until 6:30 am when I finally managed to get him some help.

I organized a taxi for him to get him home while cursing my colleagues for not making sure the suspect was safe.