A** T*** M*****

, , , , , , | Legal | February 15, 2020

(I work as a night-time cashier in a small-town gas station. Our ATM is out of service at this time. A customer walks in.)

Customer: “Do you guys have an ATM?”

(She is polite and kind about it.)

Me: “We do but it’s currently not working.”

Customer: *sighs* “Oh, okay. Do you guys do cashback?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we don’t.”

(The customer’s politeness turns into an angry rage)

Customer: “Well, you guys are f****** lame. You guys should do f****** cashback, since you lazy a**** want to mess up the g**d*** machines so that customers can’t use them. Some of us prefer to pay with cash!”

Me: *calmly* “I apologize that the ATM isn’t working and that we don’t do cashback, but there are two ATMs nearby that you can try to use…”

(I then tell her the location of said ATMs, which aren’t but a few blocks in each direction. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t say anything while I’m explaining this. After I’m finished, though, she starts yelling again)

Customer: “F*** you and this g**d*** place. You can go suck a c*** with your nasty-a** attitude. I’m not coming here again.”

(As she turns and heads out the door, I say, “Have a great night, ma’am,” but she stops as soon as I finish speaking and turns around. I then grab the phone and hide it with my fingers on the keypad, as I know what possibly could happen and may have to end up calling the cops.)

Customer: “What did you f****** call me?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to quit your name-calling and being disrespectful, or you can leave.”

Customer: “I’m not going any-f******-where.”

(Then, she started cussing me and berating me. By this time, I had dialed the number to the police and hit the talk button. While I was on the phone, she was making statements like, “F*** the police. They’re not going to s***,” etc. After talking with the dispatcher, I hung up, and she said something else, ran out the door, got in her car, and squealed tires out of the parking lot. I quickly called the dispatcher back and described the vehicle she was driving. Dispatch informed me that the police were on the way. About a minute later, she came back into the parking lot in a calm manner and got out of her car. As she was doing this, the police arrived, and she got back in the car and tried to back out and speed away. She hit a police car in the progress. Naturally, they told her several times to get on the ground but she refused, and they ended up having to use a taser on her as she started running toward the police officers. After a while of dealing with her and securing her in the police car, the officer came in and got my side of the story. He informed me that she had stated that I tried to swing at her along with making racist comments and refusing service. Mind you, she had the same skin color as I do. The officer then told me that she should be banned from the place — I have the authority to request someone to be banned since I’m the only one working at night — per my manager, and that she turned out to have drugs on her, several assault charges, several warrants out for her arrest, and a few other charges, and was officially now banned at every gas station in my small town. Months later, I read that she had gotten many years in prison and had to pay thousands of dollars in damages. How I love Karma.)

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When The Police Can Be A Real Jewel

, , , , , | Legal | February 9, 2020

(I’m the person from this story. When they finally discover the cyst on my ovary that is the source of all my troubles, I am immediately scheduled for surgery in two weeks’ time. They want to run some more biopsies because they suspect I have a lump in my breast, which turns out to just be scar tissue from my reduction surgery years ago. One week after discovering the cyst and a week before my surgery, my grandmother whom I’d been living with to help keep an eye on her, dies, which puts me in an awful position. Two of my cousins are given ownership of the house upon her death. One of them, my male cousin, is on the other side of the country at the time of her death, which leaves me to deal with the other, female cousin. She immediately tells me I have to move out at once while I am laid up in a recliner chair, unable to move from the pain and on heavy-duty painkillers, facing major surgery in one week and another six weeks of recovery, minimum. Luckily, my other cousin calls to see how I am holding up and when he hears what our mutual cousin is trying to do, he tells her that he is allowing me to stay until I am well enough after my surgery to move. Two days later, I am woken up by the sound of someone coming into the house in the early morning and I see one of my aunts walking through and then back to the front door. She shows me the jewelry box she has in her hands and tells me she is taking it to the funeral home. I don’t care and just try to go back to sleep. I am woken up AGAIN, probably a few hours later, by my female cousin, my mother, and a police officer in the living room.)

Female Cousin: “…and I want her arrested! She stole my grandmother’s jewelry! Arrest her!”

Mom: “I told you, I didn’t take anything! I don’t know what happened!”

Female Cousin: “You changed the locks on the house to keep us out, and now you’re stealing from me! This is my house and I own everything in it!”

Mom: “I called you and gave you the key to the new locks! My daughter is sick and I don’t know who all has keys to the old locks! I changed them to keep people from coming in without permission!”

(I just try to go back to sleep but can’t because of the noise. Mom is trying to keep her voice down, [Female Cousin] is starting to shout, and the cop is trying to calm them both down.)

Me: “[Aunt] took the f****** jewelry box! She came in here before the sun was fully up and took the f****** thing! She took it to the funeral home! I’m trying to sleep, [Female Cousin]; can you be quiet?!

(With that settled, the cop says he will check with the funeral home. But before he leaves, he turns to my cousin.)

Cop: “For the record, ma’am, you may own this house, but until the estate is settled, you own nothing inside of it.”

Me: “Officer, thank God you clarified that for her. If she had tried to take my property inside this house from me, I was going to load the most illegal stuff I could find onto my computer and pin it on her.”

(Luckily, he found it as funny as I intended it to be.)

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Speeding Through The Signs

, , , , | Right | February 7, 2020

(A fellow airman and I are currently working at a gate visitor control center where we issue passes to get on base. We see a lady come in with a look of superiority.)

Me: “Good morning. How are you today?”

Customer: “Hi. I just have a quick question.”

Me: “Okay.”

Customer: “How long has that sign been there.” *points to a speed sign and a caution sign on the way out of the base*

Me: “The speed sign?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “Well, at least since March of 2007 when I arrived here.”

Customer: “No, it hasn’t! That sign is recent! I want to know when you put it up!”

Coworker: “Did you get a speeding ticket?”

Customer: “Yes, I did, and I know you guys just put it up so you could trap people!”

Coworker: “Well, ma’am, I can tell you that it has been there for years, but if you want to fight your ticket you can follow the instructions on the back of your citation. There is nothing we can do here.”

Customer: “Fine! But I’m telling everyone that you guys are trapping innocent motorists!” *starts to walk out*

Coworker & Me: “Okay, Have a good day.”

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You’ve Been Axed From The Set

, , , , | Legal | January 26, 2020

(I am working on a film set as a stunt fighter and as the fight choreographer. As a rule, I will be either a fighter OR the choreographer because you can’t safely oversee a fight scene if you’re in the middle of it, but I had a chance to have a nice gory death — axe to the face — early on day three and couldn’t resist. We shoot my death and I spend the next ten hours managing the battle scene and, by the time we wrap, I am exhausted and don’t bother going back to make up to get my prosthetics off and, since I am wearing my own armour, I hop in my car and head off. Then, I get randomly stopped by the police. A young officer swaggers over to my car, leans into the window, and says:)

Officer: “Holy f***! Are you okay? I can have an ambulance here right away! Oh, my God, what happened?!”

(That was when I remembered that I was still wearing the makeup from being murdered in the face with an axe. As I was exhausted from three sixteen-hour days of filming, instead of explaining to the officer that it was makeup from a film set, I just dug my hand into the wound and pulled off a huge chunk of makeup, which is when the officer barfed on my car. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to see someone with a massive facial wound dig their whole hand into the wound and tear off what appeared to be half their face.)

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Weeding Out The Japanese Sport Car Enthusiasts

, , , | Legal | January 22, 2020

(I’m the person in the story “Best… Seizure… Ever”. A few years before that, I accumulate a bit of “bachelors’ disposable income” and decide to treat myself to a new used car. Due to personal interests, I set my sights on a Japanese import sportscar. I find a dealership in the Netherlands that imports this sort of car. I make a trip there to check out their stock, choose one of their cars, and leave a down payment. They take care of the import paperwork and registration, I convince my roommate at the time to drive me there two weeks later to pick up the car. We drive past the border and notice two police cars that are marked “Customs”.)

Roommate: “Do you think they will pull us over on the way back?”

Me: “I’ll have all the import paperwork including the customs payment, so even if they do, we’ll be good.”

(We get to the dealership and I pay the remaining price, sort out the paperwork, and put temporary plates on the car; it takes us maybe 30 minutes. We drive back over the border and, lo and behold, five kilometers behind the border, I see blue lights in my rearview and the customs officers pull us over. After the pleasantries are exchanged:)

Customs Officer #1: “Do you know why we pulled you over?”

Me: “Because you have to make sure I paid customs on an imported car?”

CO #1: “What? No. Get out of the car and open the boot!”

(I do as I’m told, and I notice the officer in the second car is doing the same to my roommate in his car.)

CO #1: “Stand over to the side and don’t do anything stupid!”

Me: “Look, we just bought a car; I have all the paperwork right here.”

CO #1: “Yeah, right, you bought a ‘car’! Stand over there and shut up!”

(By this point, I’m pissed off by his rudeness but can’t do anything about it. I shoot my roommate a look to the tune of “WTF, dude?,” and [CO #1] starts searching the empty boot, just like [CO #2] is doing on my roommate’s car. After five minutes of not finding anything:)

CO #1: “Open the hood!”

(I get in the car and pop the hood release, and then open the hood up. The sound of the release makes [CO #2] look up and make his first focused observation of my car. His face immediately lights up and he comes over to my car.)

CO #2: “Is that a [Japanese import]?”

Me: “Yes, we bought it literally an hour ago.”

CO #1: *grumbles to himself while searching the engine bay*

CO #2: “Oh, that’s cool! [CO #1], be careful with that Turbo; don’t burn yourself!”

CO #1: “The what now? I’m sure they have it somewhere!”

CO #2: “[CO #1], can I talk to you for a second?”

(They walk back to one of their cars. I can see both of them gesturing, with [CO #1]’s face getting redder as they speak. After a while, [CO #2] comes back to us.)

CO #2: “You’re good to go. He thought you guys were smuggling weed because you fit our description of a wanted gang. Can I see that import paperwork for a second?”

(I show him.) 

CO #2: “Yeah, it is all legit.”

(He keeps asking me a few questions about the specs of the car, and it becomes clear he is an enthusiast. As we part ways:)

CO #2: “Please don’t crash it on the way home. Drive safe!”

Me: “Thanks a lot! I won’t!”

(He leaves.)

Roommate: “Wait, if we are a drug trafficking gang, where is my share?”

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