We’ve had construction crews working on the street where I live. The crews have all been helpful and professional, sending people and fliers to folks on our street to let us know where they’re going to be working and telling us to prepare ourselves to move/park our cars to another location for a certain number of days and when we can put our vehicles back in their wake. I’d like to think this professionalism is what saved a lot of us from what happened next.

Sometime in the early afternoon, the construction crews managed to nick a gas line. The resulting explosion was heard in the next city over, and a huge blaze engulfed a construction truck. Blessedly, no injuries were reported, though a local urgent care clinic rescheduled all appointments that day in preparation for any injuries that might come in.

No houses were endangered thanks to four fire hoses, which were soon battling the blaze and preventing it from spreading. Electricity was shut down in the neighborhood as a precaution, and the gas company worked on its end to cut off the gas. This is all just to lay out what happened on the professional end and to show that no one got hurt.

My house happened to be in the zone, and coming home from work, I parked my car in an area set aside for the neighborhood and started walking the short distance, only to be politely stopped for my own safety. Since the ginormous fireball engulfing the construction truck was pretty obvious, I pulled out my phone to fill time.

We were some minutes in with the firefighters focusing on keeping the fire contained rather than being put out; it was safer to contain the fire than deal with escaping gas that could ignite again.

Enter this entitled lady.

I wasn’t paying attention at first, mostly zipping through the local news and social media comments on the posted articles. Eventually, the screeching broke through my best attempts at ignoring her. She was going full-fledged scream-rant, barely letting anyone a word get in sideways, much less a full sentence.

Entitled Lady: “I’m not putting up with your s***! Put that fire out, now! My house doesn’t have any power and I’m sick of it! Don’t give me that ‘we’re trying’ bulls***! Stop trying and do it! You have four hoses on it and it’s still not out, so obviously you’re not handling the problem properly. Look at the street! Look at all the water that’s flowing in the road instead of putting out the fire! Are they even aiming correctly? NO, I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! I’VE HAD IT! GET OUT OF MY WAY! I’M GOING TO MY HOUSE, AND DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO STOP ME! I’VE SICK OF— STOP IT! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! I AM NOT UNDER ARREST! YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO ARREST ME!”

I was watching this ridiculous nonsense play out, fighting off a powerful craving for popcorn as the woman actually bodychecked an officer in an attempt to force her way past. She got the natural result of assaulting an officer, with another coming over to help restrain her as she started kicking and flailing. They eventually got her shoved into the back seat of a patrol car, and the volume of her screaming went down with the slamming of the door.

I felt really, REALLY bad for the officers who had to drive her to the station with that noise in the back seat. I hope they had earplugs on hand.

For the record, the gas was cut off thirty minutes after her whole fiasco and people were able to get home with no troubles. The biggest loss was the truck, and a few power lines were burned through above the scene, which were restored just a little later on. Too bad entitled people don’t know about patience.

CONTENT WARNING: Gross (Feces)

I have been working at a Canadian grocery store chain for about four years. It’s early 2020, so the global health crisis is in full swing with mask mandates, etc.

I’m working in the self-checkout area right by the doors, and I notice a woman in her forties entering with her screaming child. The kid is wearing a sweater that says the name of his school and the year of his graduating class, and I gather that he is around eleven or twelve. Right off the bat, the woman looks pissed, probably because of her goblin child screaming blue murder about how he wants [Fast Food Place], and she waltzes in without a mask.

Me: “Welcome to [Store]! Do you need a mask?”

Woman: “What? No. I just need a few things.”

She tries to shove her way past me, but I place myself between her and the rest of the store.

Me: “Quick trip, eh? Yeah, I get that, but as per [Store] policy, all staff and customers over the age of ten need to be wearing masks in the store.”

Woman: “Well, I don’t have one!”

I point to a stand with hand sanitizer and masks by the door.

Me: “We have some right over there in case people forget. You can get one for yourself and your son.”

Child: “Mooooooommmmmm, I don’t want to wear a maaaaask!”

Woman: “Hush, sweetie. You don’t have to.” *To me* “My son is eight; he doesn’t need one. And besides, I don’t need one, either. I just need to grab a few things. I’ll be out in a few minutes anyway.”

Child: “Hey! I’m not eight!”

The woman glares at her kid, and he keeps whining about how he doesn’t want to wear a mask.

Me: “I understand, ma’am, but it’s store policy, and if you won’t wear a mask, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to shop elsewhere. The door signs clearly state you must wear a mask to shop with us.”

Woman: *Raising her voice* “But I just need a few things! It’s not like I’m going all over the store! I want to speak with your manager!”

Me: *Into my walkie-talkie* “Hey, [Manager], I’ve got a woman at the doors who wants to talk to you.”

Manager: “Be right there. Is it about masks again?”

Me: “Yep.”

Manager: *Sighs* “Keep her at the doors, please.”

Me: “Can do.” *To the woman* “Please wait right here and [Manager] will be right over.”

Woman: “You’d better not keep me waiting. I have a family to feed!”

[Manager] soon shows up and takes over.

Manager: “Good afternoon! How can I help you today?”

Woman: “This child—” *I’m twenty* “—won’t let me in! How am I supposed to feed my family if I can’t even enter the store?!

Manager: “Well, ma’am, you’re welcome to do your shopping here if you put on a mask!” *Notices the “Class Of [Year]” shirt on the kid* “And your son needs one, as well, seeing as he’s over ten.”

Woman: “HE’S EIGHT!”

Child: “NO, I’M NOT, MOM! STOP SAYING THAT!”

Woman: “BE QUIET, [CHILD]! Mommy’s handling this!”

Child: “DON’T YELL AT ME!”

He’s stomping his foot and screaming in her face.

Woman: “Don’t you take that tone with me! Let me deal with these idiots, and then Mommy will get you [Fast Food Place] after!”

The kid shuts up really quickly.

Woman: *To [Manager], smirking* “I can’t wear a mask and neither can my son; we have asthma and won’t be able to breathe.”

Manager: “I’m very sorry to hear that, but I’m afraid the rule goes for everyone; no entry without a mask.”

The woman explodes.

Woman: “I SWEAR TO GOD, WE’LL SUFFOCATE WITH MASKS ON! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MY CHILD?! I’M GOING TO SUE YOU IF YOU DON’T LET ME IN RIGHT NOW!”

Manager: “Please don’t raise your voice at me. I’m speaking to you like an adult; I expect the same in return. If you don’t want to wear a mask, then you can shop somewhere else. I hear that [Other Grocery Store] is allowing customers to shop without masks if you’d rather go there.”

Woman: “I’LL SPEAK HOWEVER I WANT! YOU’RE INFRINGING MY RIGHTS AS A CANADIAN CITIZEN TO BREATHE FREELY! I DON’T WANT TO GO TO [OTHER GROCERY STORE]! I’M ALREADY HERE! JUST LET ME DO MY F****** SHOPPING!”

The woman is panting like she just ran a marathon, and her son pulls her down to whisper something in her ear. She smiles like the Grinch after stealing Christmas and nods at her gremlin. He takes off into the store at a run, and we lose sight of him in the aisles. [Manager] sends me after the kid while he calls for security.

I search up and down every aisle in the store and finally find the kid in the frozen food section, all the way at the other end of the store. He’s got his pants around his ankles and is squatting in the middle of the aisle, dropping a massive pile of s*** on the floor. He sees me and grins at me.

I get on the walkie and call [Manager] over, telling him what’s going on. At this point, the woman has reluctantly put on a mask and storms over with [Manager] just as the kid drops the last nugget on his steaming pile. He pulls his pants back up and trots over to his mother.

Woman: “There we go; we found him. Now I can shop in peace.”

Manager: “Absolutely not. You or your son need to clean that up immediately.”

Woman: “H*** no. Get her to do it.” *Points at me* “It’s her job.”

Manager: “No, it’s not. Either you clean that up right now or I’m calling the police.”

Woman: “Fine! Go get me some paper towels.”

Manager: *To me* “Can you go grab the cleaning cart by the cash?”

Me: “Yeah, no problem.”

I get the cart and the woman starts picking up the poop.

Manager: “I hope you understand that once that’s cleaned up, you’ll need to leave. You and your son are banned for life.”

Woman: “What?!”

Manager: “After this awful display from the both of you, you’re not welcome to return.”

Woman: “THAT’S NOT FAIR! I’VE BEEN A LOYAL CUSTOMER HERE FOR YEARS! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”

And she flings the fistful of poop she’s got at [Manager]’s head. He manages to dodge it, and it splatters on the freezer door behind him.

[Manager] gets on the walkie and asks for someone to lock the doors and call the cops while the woman and her son make a beeline for the exit. Boy, is she pissed when she realizes she is locked in. She’s screaming at everyone, her kid is complaining about the crap still stuck to his backside, and everyone else is staying the f*** away from the crazy lady with s*** on her hands screaming about lawsuits and how she’ll have all the employees fired.

The cops show up not too long after, in masks and gloves, and [Manager] uses a side exit to go out and explain the situation. Three cops enter and head over to where the woman is still screaming like a banshee with her hellspawn in tow.

Officer #1: “Ma’am, you’re going to need to come with us.”

Woman: “Like h*** I am! He’s the one you should be arresting!” *Pointing at [Manager]* “He made me clean up some random kid’s poop!”

Officer #1: “Ma’am, you need to calm down and come outside with us, or we’ll be forced to detain you. You can come peacefully or in handcuffs. It’s your call.”

The woman rushed the officers, probably to start hitting them or something, and [Officer #1] and [Officer #3] grabbed her and pinned her on the floor, with [Officer #2] cuffing her while reciting her rights

The child was scream-crying now, telling the cops to leave his mom alone and trying to pull them off of her. [Officer #1] turned around and grabbed the kid in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground as he was kicking and screaming to be let go, and carried him out to the squad cars in front of the store, all while his mother was screaming about child abuse and unlawful detainment and, “You’d better get your hands off my child right now or I’ll sue you all to high heaven!”

The woman was packed into the back of one car and her son in the other, and [Officer #1] came back to finish up with [Manager] and me, taking our statements and getting a copy of the CCTV footage. The woman was charged with disturbing the peace, aggravated assault for the poo flinging, resisting arrest, and trespassing.

She never came back to our store, and she was banned from all of our locations for life along with her son. [Manager] ended up cleaning the poo, not wanting to make his employees do it.

This story is part of our Not Always Right Most-Epic Stories roundup!

Read the next roundup story!

Read the roundup!

One summer evening, I was craving a burrito for supper, so I got in my car to head to the local burrito place. As I drove past my next-door neighbor’s house, a car began to pull out… and didn’t stop. By the time I realized they weren’t stopping, I was in front of their driveway, so I slammed my brakes and hit my horn, but sure enough, the car backed right into me. 

The other driver pulled forward and parked on the side of the road. Then, she got out and came over to my car. 

Driver: “Here, let me give you my insurance information.”

Me: “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Driver: “Hmm, it’s not on my phone. It must be in my glovebox.”

Then, she walked back to her car, got in, and sped off without another word. Luckily, I had enough time to write down her license plate. The damage was minor: only a dented body panel, but it made it impossible to open the passenger door. 

I called the police and told them what happened. They said an officer would call me back in half an hour. “Great,” I thought. “I’ll go get my burrito after the officer calls.” I went back inside and told my roommate what had happened. 

Forty-five minutes later, I was getting hungry and impatient, as the officer still hadn’t called me. I decided I could answer the phone just as well in my car or at the burrito restaurant. I got in my now dented car and drove to the burrito restaurant.

When I got there, the workers told me they were out of rice. I’d have to wait fifteen minutes for more. I hesitated but decided to wait since I really wanted this burrito and I didn’t want to settle for less. 

Approximately fourteen minutes later, my phone rang. It was not the police; it was my roommate, telling me the police had arrived at my house, apparently skipping the part where they were supposed to call me. With a mournful look back at the burrito counter, I left the restaurant and quickly drove home. 

By the time I got there, the police had already left. I think they just talked to my neighbor and then left. By this time, it was about 9:00 and I was starving. The burrito place was closing and I was too tired to go out again anyway, so I settled for a grilled cheese sandwich, having missed both the police and my burrito, despite waiting for several hours. 

Eventually, I learned that the other driver didn’t even live at my neighbor’s house, and her insurance paid for all of the repairs. I also got my burrito the next day, and it was all the more delicious after having been delayed for so long.

I’m a manager at a corporate chain restaurant. My bartender alerts me that there’s a guest acting weird at the bar, so I head out there to make my presence known.

The guy is sitting at the end of the bar. He’s listening to music through headphones and doing some kind of strange dance with his arms. Okay, that’s weird, but it’s generally non-threatening, so I let him be. I continue to stay on the floor to monitor the situation.

Not five minutes later, I see the guy get up and move to the other side of the bar where a mother and her adult daughter are sitting. From where I’m standing, I can’t hear what he’s saying, but they look visibly uncomfortable, so I step in.

Me: “Sir, please stop bothering the other guests.”

The dude FLIPS OUT. He starts screaming at me.

Guy: “I’m just talking! I’m not bothering them! You should mind your own business!”

Me: “Sir, I need you to leave or I’ll be forced to call the cops.”

Guy: “The cops don’t scare me! I’ll kill everyone in the restaurant!”

Well, those were the magic words. I called the police right in front of this guy, hoping he’d just leave rather than deal with the cops.

No such luck.

He was still screaming when the cop walked in behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. This five-foot-tall man turned around to face a six-foot police officer who looked like he does MMA on his days off. I have never seen someone back down so quickly.

The cop escorted the guy outside and trespassed him from the property. The mom that was being harassed called my general manager the next day to thank us for protecting them.

I’m a manager. An associate came up to me and discreetly gestured to a customer.

Associate: “Heeeey, that guy just… told me he was stealing? He was in here earlier, and he just told me he took some stuff.”

We watched for a few minutes and saw him stuff some more items into his coat. There happened to be a cop car hanging out in our parking lot (as they sometimes do at night) so I went out to let them know.

Cop: “Yeah, we’ve already had reports about him. Do you want to press charges?”

Me: “I’m sure the company does.”

The customer came out and got on a bike, and the cops drove after him.

They came back a bit later to return our product, and when they dumped the bags out, there was a bunch of stuff that wasn’t even ours. I guess we weren’t the first store he’d hit that night.