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Nowhere Is Safe From… THEM

, , , | Friendly | CREDIT: painsomnia | December 2, 2020

I live in a ground floor apartment in the middle of my little town with a small courtyard at the back. There’s a lovely set of glass sliding doors that open from the living room into said courtyard, and on the other side of the courtyard fence is a public footpath, with a public carpark behind it. It’s lunchtime here, so there’s a person walking past every five minutes or so.

I’m physically disabled and use a walking stick. My genetic disorder, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, also makes me look significantly younger than I am, so despite being thirty-one, I’m often mistaken for a teenager — especially by entitled jerks, for whom I seem to be a g**d*** magnet.

I am sitting on my sofa, watching TV and eating my lunch, when I spot one of those little black millipedes on the carpet. We get a lot of them at this time of year. So, I use an empty muesli bar box to scoop it up and chuck it over the fence, so that it hopefully won’t come back into the apartment. No big deal, right?

There is this lady walking along the footpath, a fair way down from our fence.

Lady: *Yelling* “I saw what you just did!”

I don’t think she is barking at me, since I haven’t done anything wrong or unusual, so I start to go back inside. She then appears at our back gate and starts shouting at me.

Lady: “I saw you throwing rubbish over the fence! That’s littering!”

Me: “I just threw a millipede over the fence that I found on my carpet.”

Lady: “You’re lying! I saw you throw a box!”

I open the fly screen and hold up the empty muesli bar box.

Me: “You mean this one?”

She freezes and stammers a bit.

Lady: “Well, obviously, you threw something else, then!”

Like I am being the idiot here? Ha!

Me: “Then where is it?”

And this b**** actually starts scouring the flowerbed between the footpath and the carpark for the imaginary rubbish she is adamant that I threw!

I guess she finds nothing she can reasonably accuse me of having thrown out there, because she comes back to the fence and barks:

Lady: “If I ever catch you littering again, missy, you’ll be dealing with the police!

Me: “Sure! I’d love to tell them about you harassing a disabled woman in her own home. We’ll see how that goes for you.”

And she storms off. What the actual f***?! I get dealing with jerks like that in the wild, but in my own g**d*** home?! I wish I’d thought to snap a photo of her, just in case. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

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Here’s Hoping The Kid Doesn’t Take After His Grandfather

, , , | Right | CREDIT: NepiPrincess01 | December 1, 2020

I work at a fast food restaurant in my town. I open in the wee hours of the morning to keep the store clean for all you loving customers, especially with what is going on. You’re welcome.

Around 10:30 am we start lunch and we start to get busy quickly. A lot of parents will order kids’ meals for their children and maybe a small drink or coffee for themselves; I’ve noticed this pattern. My coworker is working in the back cash/first window. She takes orders and pays out the orders to keep the drive-thru moving.

Around 11:00 am, this older gentleman comes back to the drive-thru. My coworker opens the window.

Coworker: “Is there something wrong?”

Customer: “Yes, I just ordered this kids’ meal for my grandson. He can’t play with this toy!”

The man throws the toy at [Coworker]. It is a little Black Panther toy. Our store, along with all the others worldwide, are doing a thing with Marvel and their superheroes, so the first toys of the week are Black Panther.

Coworker: “Is there something wrong with it? Is it broken? I can easily replace it for you.”

Coworker: “No, he can’t play with it because he’s African American!”

I’m not sure if my coworker gave him another toy that was available or told him that was all we had available, but she kept the line moving.

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It Pays To Know Your History

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: Minigun_Mittens | December 1, 2020

I live in the UK but I’m from former Czechoslovakia. I don’t have the usual Slavic accent for people to immediately know, but it’s strong enough to leave people guessing where I’m from. It is fun most of the time.

I’m also interested in history, so I know that the UK, France, and Italy pretty much sold Czechoslovakia to Hitler in 1938 to prevent a war.

It was a normal day at the café where I work. I am at a cash register and this man walks in. Everyone who works in customer service eventually develops that feeling for people who will cause trouble. I have that feeling the moment I see him enter. He looks like he’s in his sixties, and at first, he is nice when he comes up to order.

But as soon as I speak, his smile vanishes. He looks me up and down.

Man: “Where are you from?”

Me: *With a smile* “Oh, I’m from [Former Czechoslovakia]. I study here—”

Man: “How dare you be here?! You leech on our economy and take our jobs!”

I don’t leech on the economy any more than any British person on minimum wage, and I’m here legally. I am shocked for a bit as panic and disgust start to storm inside me. The man does on about how immigrants ruin his country and his town — one of the most culturally various towns in the UK — and how we should all go back to where we came from.

After what feels like an eternity, I get the idea for a perfect comeback. I smile.

Me: “Well, it’s the least I could do to say, ‘Thank you!’ for selling us to Hitler in 1938!”

This time, the man was shocked. His expression was priceless. He stood there and looked around for some support, and when he realised he wouldn’t find, it he stormed off.

I’m not very good at confrontation. but I’m proud of this one, and I didn’t even get in trouble because, as I learnt that day, my boss has Jewish Ukrainian heritage.

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The Wrong Situation To Play The Race Card

, , , | Right | CREDIT: Queen_Mess99 | December 1, 2020

My older sister has worked for this banking company for over ten years and has told me a lot of entitled people stories.

This man of African origin comes into the bank and asks my sister to withdraw £1,000 from his account, as he forgot the PIN to the card. My sister asks for the card and pulls up the info on her screen. Without even asking for the gentleman’s ID, she knows something is wrong.

Sister: “Umm, sir…”

Guy: “Yeah?”

Sister: “This isn’t your account.”

Guy: “Yeah, it’s my girlfriend’s account.”

Sister: “Sir, you do realise that I can’t withdraw money out of this account without your girlfriend’s authorisation, right?”

Guy: “I understand that, but my girlfriend just had a C-section and can’t come in; she is bedridden. We need to pay our bills and our other expenses, so she asked me to come in to withdraw the money.”

Sister: “I’m sorry to hear that, but for security reasons, I am not allowed to give you any money without your girlfriend completing security.”

Guy: “Ugh! Fine!”

The guy storms out and my sister thinks that is the end of it. NOPE! He comes in a few hours later with his girlfriend and their baby. This baby is not a newborn; the baby is around nine months old.

Ah, s***, here we go again!

This guy goes straight to my sister.

Guy: “See? I wasn’t lying.”

My sister internally rolls her eyes and asks the girlfriend for her photo ID and to type her PIN into the reader. The ID matches the account — and the girlfriend — but not the PIN.

Sister: “Excuse me, madam, your PIN is wrong. Can you try again, please?”

Girlfriend: “Umm, it looks like I forgot my PIN. We kind of need the money today. Is there a way to get the money without the PIN just for today?”

Sister: “I’m sorry, madam, but the best we can do for you today is that we can withdraw £300 without the PIN and request a new PIN. It will take three working days for it to come to you.”

Girlfriend: “Oh, really, then—”

The entitled p***k cuts his girlfriend off.

Guy: “No, that’s not good enough! I told you before. We need £1000, today!

Sister: “Sir, please calm down. I—”

Guy: “Who are you talking to?!”

My sister does not give two s***s at this point.

Sister: “I’m talking to you, sir.”

Guy:How dare you?! I will report this to head office! What is your name?!”

Sister: “My name is on my badge, sir.”

Guy: “What’s your last name?”

My sister just got married around this time, so she is in the process of legally changing her last name. So, she thinks it would be funny to say:

Sister: “I don’t have one, sir.”

Guy: “What do you mean, you don’t have one?!”

Sister: “As I told you before sir, I don’t have one. But, even if I did, legally, I have the right not to give it to you. If you tell the head office my first name; they will know who you are talking about.”

My sister has a unique name.

By now, the bank has a big queue to the door; only my sister and one other member of staff are working at the front desk. A lot of the customers are very irritated by this man and his nonsense, and some people are telling him to hurry up. He just waves his hand at them, which is clearly code for “piss off.”

My sister turns back to the girlfriend.

Sister: “Would you like the £300 or not, madam? I am sorry to rush you, but we do have a queue.”

Girlfriend: “Yes, I’m sorry, I would—”

The jerk interrupts again.

Guy: “You don’t want to give us the money because you’re racist!


The whole bank is quiet for a good fifteen seconds. My sister and her coworker give each other the “Are you f****** serious?” look. All the black customers are shocked and are ashamed of what the man said. Another customer — a white woman — speaks up.

Customer: “Wait. I’m confused. Is she not black, as well?”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my sister is black herself; she is light-skinned and has been mistaken for biracial many times. My sister and her coworker burst into laughter.

Coworker: “Wow! So, [Sister], maybe this gentleman should report you to the head office for being racist to your own race!”

My sister laughs harder.

Guy: “What’s so funny?! I’m going to report you!”

Sister: “Go ahead, sir. I dare you. I would love to hear what they have to say. But just to let you know, we have CCTV footage of you causing a disruption, so you will be banned from this branch.”

There is a no-nonsense policy in my sister’s bank.

Guy: “You can’t do that!”

Sister: “Yes, I can, sir. So please leave the premise or I’ll call the police.”

The p***k stormed out, and his girlfriend apologised to my sister and ran after him. My sister and her coworker joked about it for the rest of the day.

A few weeks later, my sister got a call from the head office to ask her what had happened. The t**t had actually called up head office. My sister told them the story and said she had witnesses to the story; management found it funny, as well, and told her not to worry about.

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Junior Maid Still Causing Major Problems

, , , , | Related | CREDIT: msfinch87 | November 30, 2020

I am the OP of Junior Maid Causing Major Problems.

My sister-in-law is still causing issues with my wedding, through her demands for her daughter, who at the time of this story is still set to be one of my bridesmaids. I would uninvite her myself and have been harsher earlier, but she is my partner’s only living close adult relative and it’s important to me that I look after him and that he’s happy, so I’m happy to take on the burden of dealing with issues and to make sacrifices – to a point.

I did not want traditional bridesmaids so I had told everyone that they could choose a dress they really wanted, pursuant to coordinating it with me so it was appropriate and they all worked together. I was also happy to pay for the outfits because I really don’t like the expectation that people participate in a wedding pursuant to my requirements and have to spend their own money to do so, especially when it’s an expensive wedding.

I said three things: no navy, no one shoulder, no splits. Sister-In-law (also a bridesmaid), without checking with me, went and bought herself a one-shoulder navy dress with a side split. It clashed with my sister’s dress (the actual Maid of Honour), and the junior bridesmaid dresses.

My mother, sister and I spent hours and hours reorganising the other dresses to make it work, not just to match her, but because she looked like the d*** Maid of Honour instead of my sister. We also pissed thousands of dollars up against a wall doing this.

I was petrified that if I told her not to wear that dress she would do it just to spite me, and we decided to keep my sister’s new dress private so she couldn’t get something else to upstage her again.

I am lucky because we are in a financial position to do this (we’re not zillionaires but we both have well-paying jobs and investments), but I certainly resented it and that is not something that is usually possible for people. I’m tempted now to send her a bill.

Junior Maid Causing Major Problems

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