When I was in college, I took a class called Conceptions of Human Existence. I was so, so lost. I like classes with facts, and if it had not been a required class, I would never have gone near this subject.

On the first test, I got a C- and I learned that nobody got a lower grade. This was an ominous sign that I was in trouble. I just could not absorb the vague, nebulous concepts being discussed.

It was like getting a test question, “Does our worldview affect the world or is it the opposite?” and being told my answer was wrong. How the heck should I know? It was complete and total frustration.

Around the halfway point of the semester, our professor was about ten minutes late to class. He came in just at the point when we were all getting up to leave.

Professor: “Please sit. This will be short. I’ve just left a meeting with the department chairperson, and I was denied tenure.”

We could tell he was angry about it. Then, the class was dismissed.

For the rest of the term, our classes just involved chatting about topics in the news and no actual assignments to do. I was left wondering what I could do to pull up my grade. With a week to go before the final exams, [Professor] let us know that we had to do a final exam. Great, should I have been taking notes during our class-wide chats? What the heck were we going to be tested on?

Professor: “Since I didn’t get tenure, I’m leaving the university after this semester. Your final exam will be a take-home essay, and you can choose one of three topics. The first is your feelings about the war on terrorism. The second is your feelings on the American healthcare system. And third, if you don’t like either of those topics, you can make up your own question and answer it. If you turn in anything that shows effort, you will be given an A. I do have to be able to defend my grades, so don’t just turn in a two-sentence piece of crap and think that’s worth an A. Put in some effort and get a guaranteed A. I am doing this for all the classes I teach this semester.”

That was his malicious compliance for being turned down for tenure. We did, in fact, all get an A.

I heard later from a student aide who worked in the office that the department head was mad about it but couldn’t do anything about it.

Content Warning: Animal Abuse

I love my dogs. I have two dogs that I frequently take out for walks. Both are rescues and have gone through way more s*** than I have.

I decide to take Josephine (the oldest) out for a walk since Millie (the youngest) is fast asleep. We take the route we usually take when we go out for walks, and I notice that there is a new donut shop that just opened. The donuts look nice and delicious, so I decide to grab some. The only problem is that dogs aren’t allowed to go inside, but the owners have been nice enough to leave a spot outside for dogs with a bowl full of water and everything.

I chain Josephine outside. I am inside for around five minutes since there are a few people already there. I’m in line browsing on my phone when I hear my dog scream.

I look up and see this lady smacking my dog with her umbrella at full force numerous times. I quickly rush outside.

Me: “What the f*** are you doing, lady?!”

I pull Josephine away, but the lady keeps trying to smack her; she even hits me in the leg a couple of times.

I kid you not, these are the exact words that come out of this lady’s mouth.

Lady: “Your dog scratched my car!”

She gestures to her car, which is across the street, far away from Josephine. Then, she goes on this rant.

Lady: “You let your dog wander outside without a leash, and I had to it up after it scratched my car!”

I am legitimately confused because I definitely chained my dog before I went into the shop.

I immediately call the cops. The cops arrive while the woman is still ranting and screaming that I’ll have to pay for her car with my insurance. I’m fifteen, and I don’t know anything about insurance.

The cops intervene and try to defuse the situation. The lady then decides to play the victim.

Lady: “That dog viciously attacked me!”

Me: “My dog did snap at her because she was getting hit with an umbrella by a person she doesn’t know!”

The cops pulled her to the side and let her tell HER side of the story. I heard stuff about how my dog had scratched her car and attacked her and how she had “bravely” chained my dog.

Then the cops pulled me to the side and I got to tell my side of the story.

Guess who the cops believed?

While I was tending to my dog and checking for any wounds, I saw the cops handcuff the lady and forcefully shove her into their car because she was resisting arrest. She then threatened to sue me for harassment while screaming profanities.

No one sued me. My dog and I were fine, but she was whimpering all throughout that situation. She was definitely traumatized, but she’s doing well now.

I considered suing the lady for animal abuse, but then I found out that she was already in jail for insurance fraud and assault. I dont know about the insurance fraud part, but she apparently tried to push her coworker out of a window?

Anyway, I didn’t continue with the charges because she’s serving five years in jail now.

It starts out as a normal Saturday night in my small-town restaurant. I come in for my shift at 4:00 pm, and I’m feeling good — ready for the busy night ahead and to make some money.

I go to use the restroom at around 5:00 pm before things start to really pick up and notice that I’m bleeding and slightly cramping. I’ve started my period early — oh, well. I do my thing and go about my business.

My cramps keep getting worse, but it is what it is. We’re busy, and there’s only one other server on with me, so I pop four ibuprofen and keep going. We’re mid-dinner rush at this point.

The cramps are getting worse to the point where I am doubling over behind the bar trying to make drinks. I’m starting to worry, so I try to call the owner who is out of town. No answer.

I go to the restroom and start throwing up. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I have eight tables in the dining area and six people at the bar. There’s absolutely no way I can leave, so I try to find coverage.

Finally, I get someone who’s cross-trained in the kitchen to help out in the dining room until I can get my s*** together. Everything’s getting fuzzy, my hearing is going out, and now I can’t stand. I call my mom.

Me: “I need you to drive me to the emergency room. Something isn’t right.”

After a break, I was not feeling fuzzy anymore, so I tried to continue to help where it was needed before I left.

My mom arrived and I left. I made it to the ER, where I passed out in the waiting area. I came to throwing up yet again what looked like coffee grounds. I was rushed back to a room immediately where multiple tests and ultrasounds were done.

It turned out that my Fallopian tube had ruptured due to pelvic inflammatory disease, which I’d had no idea I had. I had emergency surgery less than an hour later to have my right Fallopian tube removed completely and two blood transfusions because I was bleeding heavily internally.

Trust your body and don’t put your work before your health. I almost died because I didn’t want to leave my coworkers short-staffed.

I’m in the dairy aisle of a grocery store (wearing a mask) when I see a woman around thirty-five with her kid. The kid is in the cart watching something on a phone. Neither of them is wearing a mask.

I mind my own business, grab a milk jug, and head toward the self-checkout. Then, I see the woman take the phone out of the kid’s hands and hold it up like she’s recording me.

I quickly try to get away from her, but she keeps following me around the store. At one point, I hear her speak to her kid.

Woman: “Look at that sheep, bowing to the communist democrats, wearing his dumb mask!”

I finally turn around.

Me: “Why are you following me?”

She didn’t respond, so I told her to f*** off, checked out, and left.

I’m a flight attendant for a major airline. Several years ago, I lived in Miami Beach in an oceanfront apartment building. Several floors of the building were operated as a hotel, but it was mostly residences. The parking garage was underneath the building.

I had just worked a long international trip and was exhausted. I got home, parked my car, and got in the elevator. It stopped on the lobby level, and a couple who had just checked in to the hotel entered. The husband saw my uniform and started loudly griping about their flight to Miami.

Man: “We were stuck in Houston for five hours and they didn’t give us a hotel room!”

I take a lot of abuse from people who need to vent, and it mostly just rolls off my back, but that is when I’m on the clock at work. I couldn’t believe I was getting b****ed out IN MY OWN HOME about some airline thing. I was tired and over it after a ten-hour flight and I let him have it.

Me: “You had a stopover in Houston, so I’m guessing you must have flown on [Airline], right?” 

Man: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, I don’t work for [Airline], and even if I did, I still wouldn’t give a s***. This is where I live. How dare you get in my face — in my own home — to gripe about your minor inconvenience?”

I don’t remember everything I said, but by the time we reached my floor, the man was backed up against the wall. I do remember shouting, “Buh-bye!” as I stomped out of the elevator. I used to be a people person, but people ruined it.