CONTENT WARNING: Gun Injury (Accidental, Self-Inflicted, Non-Lethal)
 

Years and years ago, I worked in a store in a state that allows open carry. As a result, it’s common to see some customers walking around with gun holsters, almost wanting you to notice them.

The basement of our store has a small kiosk that provides antique gun appraisal service. I am working at the checkout when one of my coworkers starts having a heated conversation with her customer.

Customer: “Well, I’m not going to take gun advice from a little girl who works in a grocery store!”

Coworker: “Sir! This is not advice; this is a serious legal requirement! If you want your firearm appraised, it needs to be unloaded, including the bullet in the chamber!”

Customer: “I never had to do this before! Where’s your manager?! He’s a man, and he knows what he’s doing!”

Coworker: “Sir, I am not going to ask my opinion from my manager on something that is a clear legal requirement. Leave right now and come back with your gun safely unloaded, and then we can talk about—”

Customer: *Unholstering his gun and waving it about dangerously* “I know my rights, and—”

BAM!

There is a deafening sound that we all know too well: a gunshot. All the other customers scream and instinctually get down. I duck, but I also turn to the customer, who is now screaming at us all.

Customer: “You stupid b****! Now look what you made me do! You f****** b****!”

Yup. He’s shot himself. Not only that, he’s shot himself in the balls.

Of course, we immediately call 911, and an ambulance arrives within minutes, along with the police because… well… gunshot.

My manager explains how this idiot shot himself and provides access to the camera footage while they all try not to laugh. Between my manager, the two officers, and me, my manager comes out with:

Manager: “Well… at least he won’t be reproducing!”

Related:
Gun Control Out Of Control, Part 3
Gun Control Out Of Control, Part 2
Gun Control Out Of Control

When I was in my mid-twenties, I used to live on the bottom floor of a two-story house in a very popular beach town in North Carolina. The upstairs was rented out to four college-aged guys. So, there were five people with five cars, and the driveway was built for four, so one of us would either be on the grass or in a paid spot. If you had bills with your name and address, the city would give you a pass to park in certain paid spaces, so it wasn’t a big deal, but finding a spot in the middle of summer was hard.

The house was maybe 100 yards from the beach — a pretty short walk, five minutes tops with beach gear and little ones. I would leave for work at 6:30 am and return around 5:00 or 6:00 pm. By the time I got home, most of the crowds would be gone, so a paid spot was easy for me to get, so I’d typically leave the driveway for the upstairs guys.

One day, I was running late and didn’t get out of my house until nearly 8:00. The other guys had left, and the driveway was empty. I was walking out to my car, and of course, the lots were already 90% full or more. As I was crossing the street, I saw a minivan come up and pull into my driveway. I didn’t recognize it, so I waited to see if I knew them or if they knew the upstairs guys.

Out stepped a dad in a polo shirt, a visor, and bowling shorts and an overly peppy mom with three screaming kids — obviously, no one I know. I backtracked toward them.

Me: “Excuse me. Do you know the tenants upstairs or have their permission to park here?”

Mom: “It doesn’t matter. No one’s parked here, and [Kid #1], [Kid #2], and [Kid #3] have to get to the beach.”

Me: “There are five people living there, myself included, and we need to be able to park.”

Mom: “Oh? So, where’s your car if you live there?”

Me: “In that spot there because I have a pass.”

Dad: “Don’t lie to us. You’re here just the same as us and upset that we know how to park for free.”

Me: “I’m not lying, dude. It’s 8:00 am and I’m wearing my work uniform.”

Mom: “We don’t need to listen to you. We’re going to park, and you can do whatever you want. My children have to get to the beach. You’re ruining our vacation, so go away!”

Meanwhile, the kids were climbing on my fence and trees, in and out of the street.

Me: “Okay, I’ll just have you towed, and you can deal with it later.”

The dad got in my face, practically nose to nose,

Dad: “TRY IT AND SEE! THIS ISN’T YOUR HOUSE! YOU’RE JUST A LITTLE S***!”

Mind you, I’m 5’11”, roughly 190 pounds, and in fairly good shape.

Me: “Okay, have a nice day.”

I went to my car and waited until they were pretty much at the beach. Then, I went inside and looked up a tow service on the other side of town.

Me: “Hello, I’d like to report a car illegally parked on my property, [address].”

Towing Company Owner: “Sir, that’s an hour away.”

Me: “Yeah, I know. I’m not paying; that’s their problem.”

Towing Company Owner: “Okay, we’ll be there in about an hour and a half.”

Then, I called my boss and explained what had happened and that I wasn’t going to be in. He’s a pretty easy-going guy and just told me to keep him informed.

The tow truck arrived, and by 10:30 am or so, the van was gone. I left my car in the spot and waited.

Sometime around 2:00 or 3:00 pm, there was a very angry knock at my door. This was gonna be fun.

Imagine the shock when I answered the door, beer in hand, grinning like an idiot.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Dad: “YOU! WHERE IS OUR VAN?!”

Mom: “HOW DID YOU GET HERE?!”

Me: “Oh, yeah, here’s the card; I had it towed across town. Gonna be a fun cab ride.”

I shut the door in their faces. There was more angry yelling and knocking, so I opened the door again. 

Me: “Yes?”

The dad started trying to get into my house.

Dad: “You’d better get us our van back! I’m gonna kick your a**! I’ll have you arrested!”

Me: “Get outta my house! And call the cops; it’s not gonna change anything.”

I managed to shove him out the door and get it closed and locked. Then, I waited. For the next twenty minutes, there was more angry knocking and yelling.

Finally, at about 4:00 pm, I saw some blue lights, and there was a much more polite knock at my door. I grew up on the beach, and it’s a small number of locals. I know 70% of the locals on the island — police, bartenders, shop owners, residents, etc.

Me: “Oh, hey, [Officer]. How’s it going?”

Officer: “Yeah, it’s good. These people say you stole their van and broke into this house.”

Me: “Nope, they pulled into the driveway as I was leaving for work, pulled an attitude, walked away, and said I couldn’t do anything. So, I called [Towing Company Owner] on the other side of town. Their van’s there; I even gave them his card and offered to let them use my phone.”

Mom: “He’s lying! He stole our car! I demand that he be arrested.”

The dad stormed up behind the officer.

Dad: “If you don’t arrest him, I’ll have you fired! This is ridiculous!”

Officer: “Sir, back up. I’m going to figure this out.”

Dad: “This is bulls***!”

He was now shoving past [Officer] and working his way into my house again. [Officer] was able to pull him out and managed to get him pressed up against his cop car.

Officer: “Sir, you are trespassing now.” *Looking over at me* “Would you like to press charges?”

Me: “Can you keep him in your car until they get a cab?”

Officer: “Yeah. I mean, I’ve got to get statements and everything.”

So, I gave my statement, went inside, grabbed a beer, and went out the back door, up the back steps, and around to the second-floor porch. And there I sat smiling until a cab came around 5:00 or 5:30.

My upstairs neighbors showed up, but they didn’t play any part in the story.

I have a friend who works in a large retail store, so, through them, I am familiar with a few of the employees. It is a few days after Black Friday, and I am checking out.

Employee #1: “Oh, hey, [My Name]! How’ve you been?”

Me: “I’m okay, but I should be asking you! I see you’ve survived the last few days!”

Employee #1: *Face darkening* “Yeah… despite… the incident.”

Me: “Oh? What happened?

Another employee is walking past.

Employee #2: “Are you talking about… the incident?“

Employee #1: *Looking sad* “Yeah…”

[Employee #2] stops their gait and approaches us with a misty look in their eyes.

Employee #2: “Yeah… that was… a lot.”

Me: “What happened?!”

The employees start telling their tale, taking turns. The atmosphere changes to something similar to a campfire story.

Employee #1: “Our pharmacy was open on Black Friday but wasn’t part of the sales, so we had a few customers just collecting their regular prescriptions along with their sales shopping.”

Employee #2: “We had a woman who thought she might be able to get a discount on her meds which, of course, she couldn’t. She got very upset and started screaming and cussing, and then…”

The pause is tantalizingly long.

Me: “What happened?!”

Employee #1: “Well, apparently, her medication was for a couple of sexually transmitted diseases…”

Employee #2: “That she had all at once…”

Employee #1: “She was so upset that we couldn’t give her a discount that she… kinda… showed us her symptoms.”

Me: “She… what?!“

Employee #2: “She exposed herself… and a lot of us got a good look as to what Chlamydia and Gonorrhoea look like at the same time.”

Me: “Oh, my God!”

At this point, a third employee is passing by.

Employee #3: “Y’all discussing… the incident?“

Employee #2: “We are.”

Employee #3: “Yeah, it was crazy when she started rubbing her parts all over the counter.”

Me: “Wait… what?!“

Employee #1: “Oh, yeah, the story wasn’t done.”

Employee #2: “We had to call the police, and she got escorted out. We then spent hours disinfecting everything!“

Employee #3: “Just like we had to do last year with Farmer Chicken-Blood!“

Employee #1: “Or before the lockdowns, with the Herpes Harpy!“

Me: “Wait, these are all real people?”

Employee #1: “Yeah, didn’t [Friend] tell you about any of these?”

Me: “He most certainly did not!”

Employee #3: “Figures… Some of them were a bit traumatizing, like the Terror Triplets who all had BB guns and targeted the milk, and then, when our manager confronted them, they targeted his kneecaps.”

Employee #2: “Yeah, that was another crazy police day. No wonder they always have a unit circling nearby these days.”

Employee #1: “Like with the Mask-Rumbling of ’21.”

Employee #2: “Or the Great Mayonnaise Spill of ’22.”

Employee #3: *Solemnly.* “Yes… we lost a lot of good people that day.”

They all look to the ground, faces devoid of joy and hope. One of them pats the other on the back.

Employee #1: *Immediately smiling that “customer service” smile, sounding terrifyingly upbeat* “Thanks for shopping at [Store] today! Please do come again!”

The transition was so jarring that I had totally forgotten where I was for a moment! I asked my friend about it later, and they weren’t entirely joking; apparently, a lot of people did quit during the mayonnaise spill! I asked him for details, and he just… stared into nothing for a moment and then changed the subject.

Never have I ever been so happy that I have never worked retail!

Related:
Some “Incidents” End With Laughs. Some.
Every Store Has Its “Incident”

My friend messaged me right after this happened to vent. [Woman] moved into the apartment next to [Friend]’s a couple of weeks ago. [Woman] has struck up short, polite conversations with [Friend] just two times in that period, with the second being the day before this whole fiasco unfolded.

This morning at about 9:00 am, [Friend] was having a nice Saturday breakfast. (She gets up at 6:00 am on weekdays, so this was a weekend lie-in for her.) Someone started aggressively banging on her front door. When [Friend] answered, [Woman] was standing there with [Kid], her sweet five-year-old daughter, who had a little backpack on.

Woman: *Sounding very flustered* “I’m so sorry to have to ask this with no notice, but could you please watch [Kid] for a few hours? I have somewhere really important to be.”

Now, something you need to understand about [Friend] is that she can’t stand kids and has no idea how to deal with them. Like, she tenses up and gets super awkward if a kid so much as waves at her in the supermarket. [Friend] is also disabled. She uses a motorised wheelchair sometimes and a walking cane for short distances or when she’s just pottering around her own home. She lives with her girlfriend, who is also her carer. Her chronic illnesses involve fainting spells and a lot of brain fog, so by her own account, she’s absolutely not someone who should be left in charge of a child.

[Woman] has seen [Friend] using both her wheelchair and her cane and has seen [Friend]’s girlfriend (who was at work when this all happened) helping her in and out of their car.

So, [Friend] responded with a firm NO, explaining that her medical conditions meant that [Kid] would not be safe in her care and that she was not well enough at the moment to have any guests (let alone an unattended kid) in her home, anyway.

[Woman] immediately flipped from pleading and simpering to hand-on-hip indignation, accusing [Friend] of “faking” her disabilities. (Because, of course, if she can walk AT ALL, then she obviously doesn’t actually need a wheelchair, right?) She threatened to report her to Centrelink (welfare) if [Friend] didn’t watch [Kid] for her.

Never mind the fact that [Friend] isn’t on welfare. Her girlfriend has a high-paying job and [Friend] works somewhere between part-time and full-time hours from home most weeks. (She’s a g**d*** machine, and I don’t know how she manages it.) News flash: not all disabled people are unable to work. Although, of course, getting employers to actually hire us is another matter, ‘cause ableism.

Friend: “I’m not on Centrelink, and I don’t appreciate being blackmailed. Find another babysitter, because I am not it.”

And she closed her door. [Woman] kept banging on the door for a bit, but she eventually left.

About twenty minutes later, [Friend] heard a very faint, timid tapping on her front door. She said if she hadn’t been so close to it, she probably wouldn’t have heard it. She sighed heavily, having kind of already guessed what was happening. She opened the door and there was [Kid], who had clearly been crying, clutching the shoulder straps of her little backpack.

Kid: *Very softly* “Mummy said I could stay here today.”

Now, like I said, [Friend] cannot stand kids, but even she said that [Kid] was an absolute darling throughout this entire fiasco and the most she ever did was cry because her mother is clearly a monster. [Woman] had driven off and sent [Kid] to [Friend]’s door, clearly thinking that if she left [Friend] with no alternative, she’d just play along and babysit [Kid] for her, anyway — especially since [Friend] had literally no way of contacting [Woman].

WRONG.

[Friend] escaped abusive parents at a young age, and this s*** made her furious. She got [Kid] settled in front of the TV with a drink and some snacks, and she called the police.

Friend: “My neighbour just abandoned her five-year-old daughter outside of her apartment, and the kid showed up at my door, asking to come in.”

When the officers arrived, [Friend] told them the full story, and while they were appalled, she said they weren’t surprised.

Officer: “You’d be shocked at how not rare this kind of thing is.”

Which is honestly kind of the worst part of all this.

The officers took [Kid] with them and were really sweet with her, explaining to her that she wasn’t in any trouble and had done the right thing and that they were there to look after her and find out where her mummy had gone.

They were able to contact [Kid]’s father, who is currently working on finalising a divorce from [Woman] and was also appalled, but not remotely surprised by what she’d done.

This morning, [Friend] had another knock on her door, only it was the dad with [Kid] in tow. He was there so he could apologise for what his ex had done, and so he and [Kid] could thank [Friend] for looking after [Kid] and for calling the police. [Friend] said he seemed like a good guy who was clearly putting his kid first in all this, which was really reassuring to hear.

He told [Friend] that, according to his lawyer, her calling the police and handling everything the way she had would basically be a gift-wrapped custody battle win for him, because what kind of court would ever grant [Woman] custody after the s*** she’d pulled? His lawyer was over the moon when [Dad] called him!

[Friend] also asked [Dad] what had been so important that [Woman] had abandoned her own daughter over it.

It was an appointment at a nail salon. She’d taken [Kid] with her several times previously, and she just demanded that the staff babysit her and refused to even acknowledge the kid during her “me time”. When she called yesterday morning to book a last-minute appointment, the staff put their foot down and told her she could no longer bring her kid to her appointments and would be refused service if she did.

[Dad] also said that [Woman] had shown up so late to the appointment that they’d refused to see her, anyway.

So, she abandoned her daughter cuz she wanted her “me time”, to get her nails done.

[Dad] told [Friend] that “me time” is an excuse [Woman] uses to ignore her kid, basically any time she feels like it. “DO NOT talk to me during my me time!” etc.

[Dad] also asked [Friend] if she would be okay to help with his custody battle. He said he understood that her health wasn’t great, but his lawyer had said a written statement would be fine. He said while it probably wasn’t essential, since they had the police report, he wanted to have as much evidence on his side as possible, just to be sure. Of course, [Friend] agreed.

[Woman] hasn’t yet shown up at [Friend]’s door to scream at her, so [Friend]’s thinking maybe dealing with the police put some actual fear of consequences into her. We shall see.

I work as a dispatcher in a 911 call center. People call for all sorts of things, like settling an argument over the rules of Monopoly or other board games, answers to crossword puzzles, complaints about the weather, etc.

My favorite over the years:

Caller: “The power’s out. Can you have the fire department come over and hook up a generator? I need to watch the ballgame.”

Me: “Sorry, sir. They only have one generator, and it’s hooked up here so we can watch the ballgame.”

Caller: “Are you serious?!“

Me: “Are you? Should I be reporting this number to the police for reporting a non-emergency?”

Caller: “But it is an emergency! I’m missing the game!” 

I sent the police over, instead.