My brother announces that he and his girlfriend of many years are engaged and are planning on having a wedding the following year. They give nine months’ notice, at least, to people who will be invited and announce what the colour theme for the wedding will be — purple. In the time between the announcement and the wedding date, I am easily able to order a dress from an online retailer in London and still have time to replace it if I need to, which I ultimately don’t.

The wedding weekend arrives. The wedding is absolutely gorgeous. It’s a sunny day on the beach, and I can’t help but cry because my brother is actually marrying the mother of his three children and love of his life. He has never seemed happier.

[Brother] is my half-brother; we share a mum but not a dad. Growing up, it was my dad who raised [Brother] and me, so to him, my dad was his dad. My dad, prior to marrying my mum, had a first wife and a couple kids with that wife, including [Half-Sister]. [Brother] and I have always had some issues with her. She is only my half-sister, not [Brother]’s, but he still included her in the wedding and such as a family member and guest. I don’t notice at first, because I am too caught up in the whirlwind of my brother’s wedding ceremony, but [Half-Sister] isn’t wearing purple. No, no. She is wearing WHITE.

To be specific, she is wearing her WHITE WEDDING DRESS to someone else’s wedding. [Brother] and [Sister-In-Law] are pissed, especially [Sister-In-Law].

At the reception, some people have changed clothes. It is my first ever wedding, so I didn’t think that far ahead; I still wear my soft lilac dress without a problem while everyone eats and shares some drinks, interacts with the bride and groom — what I assume to be normal wedding things.

But [Half-Sister].

Oh, [Half-Sister], [Half-Sister], [Half-Sister].

She is feeling extremely sad and lonely because no one is paying attention to her: the thirty-something-year-old woman who wore her wedding dress to someone else’s wedding. I wonder why no one wants to interact with her? She begins crying maybe halfway through the reception, openly, loudly, and in a way that clearly begs for someone to come notice her. I’m a nice person, so I try to be the good half-sister I should be and bite the bullet to go sit with her for a little while and ask her what’s wrong.

Half-Sister: “No one is paying attention to me!”

I stare at her, confused a little.

Me: “What do you mean?”

Half-Sister: “Everyone is talking with [Brother] and [Sister-In-Law], but no one is talking to me! And when I try to speak with [Brother] and [Sister-In-Law], they don’t talk to me!”

I sigh internally and can’t help but wonder how she didn’t connect the dots.

Me: “[Half-Sister], it’s their wedding. Of course, everyone is going to be talking to them and they’re going to be busy.”

Half-Sister: “I don’t care! I’m [Brother]’s sister, so he should talk with me more.”

Actually, lady, you’re not his sister. I am. But okay, whatever. I was able to slip away and spend time with some other family who weren’t acting as if this day was all about them. After the ceremony, [Sister-In-Law] admitted to me she was livid about how [Half-Sister] wore the wedding dress. She’d had plenty of time to plan for the wedding and get appropriate attire, but when finally confronted, [Half-Sister] said that she had no other dress she could wear.

Even nearly four years later, I’m still pissed at my half-sister for doing that. My mum, [Brother], and [Sister-In-Law] are also pissed. I’ve since cut contact with [Half-Sister], as we never really had a good bond anyway. As far as I know, [Brother] and [Sister-In-Law] have limited contact with her but that can’t be helped as they live in the same city, while I happily live in a place where an ocean is between me and her.

I work at a podiatrist’s office as an X-ray tech. Most of our patients are elderly and are near and dear to my heart — the kind of people who are like second grandparents to you whose feet you happen to be very acquainted with. Then there’s patients like this woman.

[Patient] is that kind of woman who’s sickly sweet to your face and then complains to your superiors like you killed her puppy. We dread looking at the schedule to see her name on the daily patient appointment list. Some of my coworkers have flat-out REFUSED to take her back to a patient room and get vital signs, prep her room, etc. Everyone at my office has a [Patient] story. It’s practically a rite of passage.

She has been coming to our office for about three years. In my own personal experience with her, she acts kind to my face but slightly entitled. She once complained to my doctor about something I did, and to be honest, it was so mundane that neither I nor the doctor she complained to — who owns our practice — took it seriously. The doctor told the patient she’d speak to me about it and told me, “Oh, [Patient] complained about you, [My Name], but she complains about everyone.”

When she didn’t get the proper reaction that she expected from the doctor, she then tried to call a day or so later and speak to our office manager. My coworker picked up the phone and spoke to her. She had the NERVE to say, “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but I think it needs to be addressed.” Lady, you went out of your way TWICE to complain about me. You wanted me to get in trouble.

On to the main event: [Patient] FINALLY gets her comeuppance.

I am on maternity leave when this happens, so this is second-hand from my coworker.

[Patient] comes into the office in apparently a very foul mood — more so than usual, anyway. One of our nurses calls [Patient] back to a room three minutes after her scheduled appointment time. [Patient] proceeds to contradict all of the nurse’s questions and information out of spite.

For example:

Nurse #1: “[Patient], your blood pressure is 142/90.”

Patient: “That’s not right. My blood pressure is usually 140/80.”

[Nurse #1] is an older woman and is over the years of [Patient]’s bulls***, so she merely says:

Nurse #1: “Okay then.”

Then, when the doctor comes in, [Patient] starts making demands.

Patient: “You have to give me an injection! My feet hurt and you’re going to fix it now.”

The doctor’s policy is that these injections, which can help with certain types of foot pain, are a once-in-every-three-months deal, and if something stronger is needed, they’ll look at physical therapy, so they don’t just throw pain pills at you. [Patient] had her injection about one week ago and has constantly refused physical therapy despite having no valid or medical reason to not go. She is very lazy and just wants a solution NOW; she doesn’t want to correct things in her life that would easily stop the problem for good, instead of temporarily.

Then, [Patient] demands new diabetic shoes. Normally, we do offer this service with [Nurse #2], who is the only one with the certification to take the measurements for these shoes. However, [Patient] burned that bridge a long time ago because she repeatedly treated [Nurse #2] like garbage and called her a b****. [Nurse #2] refused to measure her ever again long ago.

Knowing this, the doctor tells [Patient] that she will send orders for new diabetic shoes to another company we work with. But [Patient] doesn’t WANT shoes from them. She wants them from US. The doctor doesn’t want to throw [Nurse #2] under the bus, so she simply tells her that we’re not offering diabetic shoes from our office at this time. [Patient] keeps getting angrier but has no choice but to accept defeat.

She goes to our receptionist’s window and pays with a credit card.

Receptionist: “Would you like your receipt?”

Patient: “Ugh, no! Why would I want that?”

She then proceeds to stomp on out to her car. Three minutes later, she calls our receptionist from the parking lot.

Patient: *Angry* “You need to print me off a receipt for our transaction today! Why wasn’t I given one?!”

Receptionist: “Ma’am, I offered it to you before you left. I can send it to you in the mail or you can pick it up from our office at your convenience.”

Patient: “You did not offer me my receipt! I’m in the parking lot; you need to bring it out to me now!”

Receptionist: “Ma’am, you can come back inside and get it or I can send it to you in the mail. I can’t leave my desk as I’m the only receptionist in the office today.”

Patient: “You have to bring it out to me now! My legs hurt and I can’t walk in there!”

This is crap; she just walked out of the building just fine and had no leg injuries.

Then, [Patient] just starts yelling about how she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this and how someone needs to bring her the receipt NOW, and so on. It’s so loud that [Nurse #2] can hear [Patient] yelling on the phone from several feet away.

Nurse #2: “Is that [Patient]?”

Receptionist: “It is.”

Nurse #2: “Give me the phone; I’ll handle this.” *Into the phone* “Hello, this is [Nurse #2]. How can I help you?”

Patient: *Yelling* “You need to bring me my receipt now. My legs hurt and you need to bring it now! I should have been offered it in the first place when I checked out! This is ridiculous. You’re all incompetent! Bring it to me now!”

Nurse #2: “Ma’am, your legs seemed to be working just fine when you walked out of the office. Now, you can either come in and get your paper yourself or we can mail it to you.”

[Patient] starts yelling incoherently, repeatedly calling [Nurse #2] a b****, etc.

Nurse #2: “You have a nice day ma’am.” *Hangs up*

[Nurse #2] told me how great it felt to just call [Patient] out on her bulls*** and it was so satisfying to hear about. But it gets BETTER! Apparently, the doctor that was working that day had overheard [Patient] yelling on the phone and was NOT having the way [Patient] treated the entire staff. She told our other doctor — the one that owns the practice — and they agreed that they would dismiss her from the practice.

The rest of my workdays are looking a lot more [Patient]-less every day I go in.

I am a copilot with one of my favorite captains, who happens to be black. We have just finished our day and are waiting at the airport curbside for our hotel pickup. A car pulls up and this older woman gets out, looks at my captain in uniform, and says:

Woman: “Well, aren’t you going to help get my luggage?”

I am shocked, but he quickly does this little shuffle dance and takes her luggage from the trunk, and the next thing I see is him trailing her, carrying her three pieces of luggage. He comes back a few minutes later with a big smile.

Captain: “I walked her luggage to the [Airline #1] check-in counter. You should have seen the look on the agent. The passenger pulled a dollar from her purse and attempted to tip me. I said, ‘No, thanks. I’m a pilot for [Airline #2]. Next time, I suggest you fly [Airline #2]; I don’t think [Airline #1] pilots are as generous.”

I live in a decent-sized college town, I work in a hotel while I go to the college. To be straight, my college is run by a bunch of idiots who aren’t handling the health crisis correctly. My mom actually has to send in an anonymous tip to the sheriff department because the number of crowds forming without masks on is ridiculous. I can’t go to school anymore because it gets so bad. The school is allowing large gatherings and lets fraternities and sororities throw massive parties.

Five dorms have to go under lockdown and the frats and sororities are also locked down.

This phone call I got from my college made me rethink my whole life. The call is from a woman that works for the college.

Me: “[Hotel].”

Woman: “Yes, how many rooms do you have?”

Me: “Eighty-nine.”

Woman: “I would like to book all of those for fourteen days, starting January fifth.”

Me: “I am sorry, ma’am, but I cannot book all of those rooms because there are people staying in house for work. That would make me force them all out.”

Woman: “I need those rooms! We have to quarantine all returning students that have tested positive for [illness] and they cannot step back onto campus unless they have been quarantined for fourteen days.”

Me: “Wh… You’re… trying to house [illness]-positive students from out of state?”

Woman: “Yes, before the upcoming spring semester.”

Me: “If that is the case, then I am going to have to deny the booking of these rooms for safety and health reasons.”

Woman: “What do you mean, ‘deny’?!”

Me: “You are bringing a herd of college students that have tested positive for [illness], college kids who will more than likely not follow [illness] restrictions and guidelines and leave their rooms. It is a safety and health issue for the staff and all who enter.”

Woman: “OTHER HOTELS ARE DOING IT!”

Me: “Okay, that is fine and their decision, but I will not book these rooms for you.”

Woman: “I WANT YOUR MANAGER, NOW!”

Me: “You may call back tomorrow when they will be in, but they will tell you the exact same thing I have told you just now.”

Woman: “These kids need somewhere to stay to get healthy and you’re going to deny them? I know your business needs the money!”

Me: “Then they need to stay where they are before returning to campus and get a negative [illness] test, like the policy stated during the last semester of school.”

The woman hung up. I returned for my shift this morning to find a note from management stating, “If anybody calls and asks to book all of our rooms to house [illness]-positive people, tell them no and that you are the manager. We need to keep ourselves and our families safe!”

I am working in the photo department of my store. For the past few weeks, we’ve been scrambling to keep up with the myriad of photo and Christmas card orders. Today was probably the most unusual customer pickup I’ve dealt with.

Most of the time, I get their name and order type and send them on their way.

Me: “Hi. Can I have your name?”

Customer: *Immediately* “I don’t know.”

Recognizing that this is not off to a great start, I am a bit flabbergasted at his following response.

Customer: “It could be under any of five aliases.”

Not names, aliases. To further my confusion, he gave me just given names for some, surnames for others. It finally took us taking down his order number, entering that into the computer, and finding what the prints looked liked to match them with a printed order. And it wasn’t under any of the names he’d given us.