Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered
A collection of stories curated from different subreddits, adapted for NAR.

Maybe She’s Jealous

, , , , , | Learning | CREDIT: hayjaybirk | November 23, 2020

At my school, we really aren’t technically allowed to bring drinks unless it’s water in a clear bottle. But most teachers don’t really care.

Usually, if I want to eat breakfast or have a coffee, I’ll go to one of my teachers’ classrooms before first period.

My teacher isn’t in there today, so I don’t get a chance to drink very much of it. And honestly, it isn’t that special, just plain black coffee, so I don’t mind having to throw it away. I just don’t want to throw a full cup of liquid into a garbage bin where it’ll make a mess.

I’m walking down the hallway and the ONE teacher who gives a s*** sees me with it.

Teacher: *Hostile* “You can’t have that; you need to throw it away.”

Me: “I know. I’m just looking for a place to—”

Teacher: “No. You need to put it in a trash can now.”

Me: “Yes, but can I—”

Teacher:Stop arguing with me! If another word comes out of your mouth again, I’m giving you an office referral and detention.”

Okay. I take the full cup of black iced coffee and drop it in the garbage can sitting in her classroom. It makes a giant mess, and I walk away. She’s pissed.

Teacher: “The next time I catch you with a drink, you’ll be placed in in-school suspension.”

I go to the main administrator and ask him about this.

Administrator: “You can have drinks, just as long as they’re gone before first period.”

I brought another iced black coffee the next day and sat in my usual teacher’s classroom, and when she walked in and started griping at me again, I drank the whole d*** thing in front of her.

The Only Thing More Exhausting Than Group Work Is This Story

, , , , , | Learning | CREDIT: notABadGuy3 | November 22, 2020

I am doing a computer science degree at university. We have a group work project which is set out in two stages. Part A involves making an application and writing a report about it. For Part B, we get feedback from Part A and have to improve upon it.

There is a group contribution report at the end where each student puts in how much they think each member of the group has done.

I am in a randomly selected group with four others. We each pick a part of the work that we want to do.

I am apparently the group’s most confident coder, so I assign myself about half of the code. I finish up my work in about the first three weeks and work on other projects I have for other modules.

Then, soon after I finish my work, the others ask me if I can do their parts of the code, too. I initially protest, as I have my other coursework due, but eventually, I say fine, so long as it is noted in the group contribution report that they all agreed to this. I sweat it out over the next three weeks or so alongside my other coursework.

I contact my module organiser, explaining that I have done half the work.

Module Organiser: “If people in your group aren’t pulling their weight, I suggest you leave the group, take your code with you, and do the report.”

That would mean I would need to work flat-out to produce the report and probably would mess it up. I don’t want that. The deadline is in about a week. And I honestly can’t be a**ed.

Then, I get asked to do some of the report, too, because they don’t understand how the code worked. By this point, I feel pretty used by them, but I don’t really mind so long as I get the marks.

All in all, I work out that I have done the workload of three people. There is talk amongst the others of all writing that we each contributed 20% of the workload to “make us look better as a team.” I flatly refuse. They explode, calling me every name under the sun, swearing at me, telling me to “f*** off.”

I send off my contribution report with 60% listed for myself and 10% each for the rest. And I think that is that.

My module organiser then emails me.

Module Organiser: “Do you have any proof of your contribution to this project? Your fellow group members have put you down for 0% and given themselves 25% each.”

I email him back linking him to the program I used to share the code with the team, which shows who made changes to the code, proving that I did all of it. And thankfully, we did the whole report on Google Drive, so I can also see the history on that document and send him screenshots of all the alterations that I personally made, proving that I wrote about 20% of the report.

He adds it all up and makes a special exception for my group, saying he will give me the most credit for the work.

I think I end up with a 65% and they all get 11% for the whole coursework Part A. They would need 69% to even pass the module.

It turns out that I f***ed up a bit on the code, only getting about 50% of the marks with a massive issue in it, but my report sections were near perfect — just spelling mistakes, formatting, etc. There were a few glaring mistakes from the report that my groupmates had written, but other than that, it was not bad.

When the other members of my group find out their marks, they start calling me up and emailing me and messaging me almost for about three hours. Apparently, my module organiser had sent an email explaining that they had lied, and he had proof of it, so he had corrected the marks accordingly.

When I get back to my phone, I screenshot all the messages they sent and record all the voicemails, including the ones they had sent previously, featuring multiple occasions where everyone in the group told me to “f*** off.”

And f*** off I do. I send all these voicemails and screenshots to my module organiser via email.

Me: “I would like to leave my group. I understand that it is more work for me, but I’d rather not deal with that.”

The organiser agrees and escalates the messages to someone higher up.

Me: “I would like to take all of my code with me and remove their access to it. Is that allowed?”

Module Organiser: “That’s fine. It’s your work, and since you are no longer in their group, the others cannot submit it.”

I fix the error in the code in about two weeks. Then, I do the whole report from scratch almost.

I then get messages from the group during the last few days of the assignment.

Group Member #1: “Please come back! We really need you.”

Group Member #2: “We will literally pay you to come back and help us.”

I screenshot the messages and send them to the module organiser, just to let him know what is happening, and then I just ignore them.

I end up submitting two weeks early for the deadline and get 100% on the whole of Part B, which is basically unheard at university, especially by yourself for group work.

Later that day, I get an email from a plagiarism and collusion officer — not someone you ever want to get an email from. Basically, it says that I’m being summoned to a hearing, as an external body looked at both the coursework I did by myself and the coursework my old group did, and they thought it was very similar. I get the whole project that my group handed in and my own back as evidence so I can look and prepare my answers to their questions.

I email my module organiser to ask if he supports me in this, because basically, in these situations they can punish all parties involved or one party — never nobody. He says that, yes, he supports me in this. Perfect.

I prepare for this meeting by going through the hundreds of commits I have made while they had access to find the one that is most similar. I find a perfect match — zero differences, not even a single character — through the thousands of lines of code.

And then, I go to the meeting, which is held over video chat. The VP of computing is there — a guy who could basically do whatever the h*** he wants to us. My old group is asked to explain why this has happened, and they go on about how they did all of the work by themselves, blah, blah, blah. You get the point. This goes on for about ten minutes.

Then, I am asked to present my argument.

Me: “Can I share my screen?”

VP: *Puzzled* “Yeah… Okay…”

Apparently, some of the people in the meeting weren’t aware that I’d worked with the group before. I show all the screenshots I took, including them basically begging for me to come back, and offering money. And as if this wasn’t enough to convince them, I then download a fresh version of what they submitted, and a fresh version of one of my commits on the sharing program, and I run it through a trusted comparison software. I narrate this to explain what I am doing just to be clear. It takes a while, but it comes up, as I knew it would, with zero differences.

Everyone is stunned. One of the group members utters, “But…”

I just laugh. And I am quickly asked to hang up as I am no longer involved.

It turned out that they had cloned one of my commits and still had a copy on their laptop when I blocked their access. They were not able to fix it at all, so they just submitted it and hoped for the best.

I found out through a mutual friend that they failed the whole module; they got a zero for Part B, giving them just 5.5% overall for the module. You need 40% to pass. Therefore, they would have to retake the module over the summer, costing everyone in the group their placement year jobs. After all, who wants someone who failed a module so badly and who was intellectually dishonest working for them? This meant that they all lost out on being paid around 20k each for the year’s work, which goes a long way for a uni student.

I happily got mine.

Taking “Wild & Unruly” To The Next Level

, , , , | Legal | CREDIT: Pavel1562 | November 19, 2020

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Injury

 

This summer, my dad and I decide that we will go shooting at a nearby range. We have a gas pistol — like an air rifle — which in our country you don’t need a license for. This pistol can only shoot blank or gas cartridges, but we have also a special attachment for the barrel that allows us to shoot a flare, pyro, etc.

We go to the range and shoot a few pyros and flares. Then, when I have just loaded a new flare, a woman around forty years old and her son around eleven approach us from behind, about twenty feet away.

Woman: “Excuse me!”

Me: “Yes?”

Woman: “Could you please let my kid shoot?”

We have some restrictions on the guns. One, you must be at least fifteen to shoot the gun, and two, for you to be able to shoot the explosives from the gun, you must have paperwork, which my dad has.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t let him shoot. He’s too young for that.”

Woman: “No, he’s not! He is seventeen!”

Kid: “Mum, let them go; we will rent one right there.”

My Dad: “And do you even have the paperwork to shoot explosives from it?”

Woman: “No, but you do, right?”

My dad rolls his eyes.

Woman: *Angry* “JUST GIVE ME THE GUN!”

Me: “No, and you don’t even have the paperwork.”

Woman: “FINE! I’LL TAKE IT MYSELF!”

And she grabs the gun from my hand and PULLS THE TRIGGER. The flare goes off right on my T-shirt. I put the fire down and shout for security. When the woman realises what she has done, she grabs the flare box and Usain Bolts from the range, going toward the forest. Her son just stands there, frozen.

Here comes the security guard.

Security Guard: *To me* “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah, just the shirt is a bit ashed.”

Security Guard: “Where did she go?”

My Dad: “Into the forest.”

This range has a kennel. There are two dogs that are trained to find guns and people. This is because the people have been trying to sneak out with guns or ammo. My dad is an off-duty officer, so he gets a dog and he and the security guard and they go to find her. The kid and I follow behind.

After about fifteen mins of searching, the security guard spots the woman hiding in a bush.

Security Guard: “Look, she is right there!”

And the security guard unleashes the dog. It runs toward the bush where the woman is. And just before the dog gets there, the woman stands up and shouts:

Woman: ”STAY AWAY, YOU LITTLE B****!”

And she shoots the dog. The dog howls in pain as the explosive pyro explodes in its face.

Security Guard: “Hands up!”

The woman was tackled to the ground, apprehended, and later charged for assault, stealing, and injuring a police dog. The dog lost an eye. At court, the woman got a total of FIFTEEN YEARS in prison.


This story is part of our Best Of November 2020 roundup! This is the last story in this roundup, but if you’d like to read more of our favorite stories, you can always check out October’s roundup next!

Read the first story in the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Read the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Don’t Write Checks That Your Arms Can’t Cash

, , , , | Legal | CREDIT: unfunny_comedian1192 | November 18, 2020

I am a man in my thirties. I live with my sister, who is in her twenties, and I am officially registered as her caretaker. I am a big, intimidating dude. My sister, by contrast, is 4’11”, 89 pounds; she’s naturally tiny and looks much younger than she is. She also has cerebral palsy and epilepsy. Her anxiety disorder tends to amplify her seizures; she has at least one a day. Her seizures are usually not noticeable since they are not stereotypical seizures. Some days are better than others.

We are on our usual grocery run. We head to checkout and I realize that forgot the eggs, so I leave my sister in line; she is having a good day and is not in danger of having a seizure in line.

Upon my return, I see a woman pushing my sister out of the way, pushing our cart to the side, and replacing it with her cart.

Woman: “Children shouldn’t be in line. NOW, GET LOST!”

I’m normally a giant teddy bear — I love hugs — but no one talks to my sister that way and gets away with it. I grab my sister and pull her close to me to protect her.

Me: “Touch my sister like that again and I’ll f*** you up so bad your kids will be born with my handprints on their face!”

Woman: “How dare you accuse me of—”

Me: “I watched you assault my sister! Do you normally harass tiny women with disabilities?!”

The woman then tries to punch my sister! I rotate my body and she hits my back instead. She tries to attack again, so I grab her arm this time and twist it behind her back. I feel her forearm break and immediately let go.

I hold my sister and try to make sure she’s okay. She isn’t; she is in one of her seizures for a minute. She starts responding right before the general manager arrives. The woman is screaming.

Woman: “THIS A**HOLE TRIED TO KILL ME! HELP!”

General Manager: “The authorities have already being called.” *Picks up a radio* “Call an ambulance, as well.”

Woman: *Clearly in pain* “Arrest him! I want him arrested.”

Sister: *Crying* “She assaulted me first! My brother is my caretaker; he was just protecting me!”

Me: “Camera footage, now!

General Manager: “I’m no medical professional, but you definitely broke her arm. You two come with me.”

We go to the manager’s office. The manager reviews the footage and sides with me.

General Manager: “That woman will be permanently banned from this store. We don’t condone anyone assaulting anyone. I don’t know what the cops will say, but I’m sure this counts as self-defense.”

The manager leaves the room and comes back with two cops. The cops get our side of the story and one cop escorts us out of the room while the other reviews the footage with the manager. A few minutes later, [Cop #1] comes out and tells his partner something, and [Cop #2] leaves.

Cop #1: “The lady says you broke her arm for no reason, and she wants to press charges. But your story matches the footage, and what you did is classified as self-defense and as defending a disabled person. You are off the hook. Now, do you want to press charges?”

Me: “Do you want to press charges, sis?”

Sister: “I don’t know… I want to go home.”

Me: “I will press charges. But can I file them after I make sure my sister is taken care of?”

Cop #1: “Yes, absolutely. Here’s my name and a note about the case; take this to the station, within the next twelve hours, preferably.”

A few months later, we went to court. The judge sided with us, and the woman had to pay all legal fees and pay us $40,000 in damages. She also served some jail time.

Jail Would Have Been Less Painful Than The Embarrassment

, , , , | Legal | CREDIT: TwoFruit | November 17, 2020

I have been in the service industry for about four years now. I’ve had my share of rude customers, complaints, and the occasional — but mostly rare — dine-and-dashers. It’s part of the job, nothing I take personally.

One night, I have a two-top arrive about thirty minutes to close. These two seem like they are on their first date; I can tell off the bat that they haven’t known each other for very long. They are extremely polite and don’t need much attention, so I figure it’ll be an easy table. These two get full-course meals. I’m talking multiple alcoholic beverages, appetizers, baskets and baskets of fresh bread, combo entrees with add-ons and extras, salads, dessert, everything you can think of.

About halfway into their meal, they call me over and the man starts to complain about his half-eaten well-done sirloin steak.

Man: “My steak is overdone and tough to chew!”

No kidding. It’s well-done.

Man: “I will not be paying for these entrees!”

I happily offer to grab my manager to work something out, and I promise him that he will not be forced to pay for his half-eaten steak. My manager comes to a compromise with the couple and gives them a generous discount from their $160 tab. It brings their total down to $38. My manager runs their check out for them and they seem very pleased with the outcome.

By the time I arrive back to the table, the two are gone. I don’t panic too much, considering the lady has left her purse. I immediately go to the host stand.

Me: “Hey, the two from my table have both gone to the restroom, so don’t bus it off yet.”

I figure they will be back shortly and be ready to pay. Five minutes passed, then ten minutes passed, and then I pay a visit to the women’s restroom… which is empty. I grab my manager to let her know that they belong on the show “World’s Dumbest Criminals” and pass off the lady’s purse for safe keeping in the office.

I walk up to the host stand a short while later to discover my manager is on the phone with the MOTHER of the lady who left her purse. She had called to inform my manager that her daughter had forgotten her bag, to which my manager replied that she had “forgotten” to pay the bill, too. This lady’s sweet mother offer to pay their bill, as well as to pick up the purse soon after. My manager politely declined and told her that if her daughter wanted her bag back, she would have to show her face and come pay her bill.

I was getting ready to leave for the night when my manager handed me a credit card and told me that the lady from my walk out was here to pay her tab. My manager told me to run the charge and then hand her back the card myself. At this point, I was thrilled to see that she was willing to come back in and face anybody.

I swiped her card and handed her the receipt with THE BIGGEST smile on my face. I told her I hoped she’d have a really great night and to be safe on her way home. She wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. I stood and waited while she signed to ramp up her nerves. Zero tip, but so satisfying.

If you’re going to commit a crime and walk out on your bill, make sure all your ducks are in a row.