I was a substitute teacher during the school year, but in the summer, I didn’t have a regular job. I did do online tutoring, though, to make ends meet. I would work at my computer, which was at a built-in desk in my apartment near the front door.

One summer day, a group of bored pre-teens decided to play ding-dong-ditch — a game/prank where you ring someone’s doorbell and then run away. Since I was one of the few adults at home, my apartment was a target. The first couple of times were slightly amusing, but after that, I was just getting annoyed. They were ringing my doorbell about every five minutes, so after the fourth time, I made sure to stand next to the door.

When they rang, I almost immediately opened the door. I just saw scurrying feet running into the apartment diagonal from mine. I also heard the clattering of one boy’s cell phone, as it had dropped out of one of his pockets. (It turned out to belong to the boy who lived in the diagonal apartment.) I picked it up and went back into my apartment.

This occurred before phones typically had lock codes, so I could pull up the contacts. I called the one labeled “Dad” and told him the circumstances of why I had his son’s cell phone. He agreed to pick it up after he got home.

A couple of minutes later, I heard a polite knock on the door. I didn’t open it but talked through the door.

Me: “Hello?”

Kid: “Sir, did you find a cell phone on the floor out here?”

Me: “Yes. I contacted ‘Dad’, and he’ll be getting it this evening.”

Kid: *Sigh*

I stopped at my favorite sandwich shop today and ordered my usual six-inch submarine-type sandwich. When I was handed the wrapped sandwich, it looked a LOT longer than six inches.

Me: “Is this really a six-inch sub? It looks more like a footlong.”

Server: “Yes, it is definitely a six-inch sub.”

When I got home, I measured the thing, and it was a bit over ten inches in length. It was a “whole loaf” rather than the usual loaf cut in half. However, upon opening the sandwich itself, I found that there were two inches of plain bread at each end. No filling. So, it was really a six-inch sandwich stuck in a ten-inch loaf, with an extra four inches of plain bread.

The “smaller” contents were quite good, anyway!

I’m shopping in a store. I’m fairly tall for a woman — 5′9″. A much shorter woman approaches me.

Woman #1: “Excuse me. I know you don’t work here, but would you mind getting that box off the top shelf for me?”

I hand it to her, she thanks me, and I take one step when another woman comes out of nowhere and starts yelling at me.

Woman #2: “I NEED HELP! GET ME A BLENDER FROM THE BACK! I KNOW YOU HAVE MORE! I WANT IT NOW! MOVE!”

I stare at her for about two seconds, tell her, “I don’t work here”, turn my back, and start to walk away. She grabs my arm and spins me around.

Woman #2: “DON’T YOU LIE TO ME! GET ME THE BLENDER OR I’LL HAVE YOU FIRED!”

I’m wearing a band T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops — not even close to the store uniform. The short lady I helped hits her hand away from my arm. With more volume than I thought that tiny woman could produce, she yells right back.

Woman #1: “SHE DOESN’T WORK HERE! SHE HELPED ME BECAUSE I ASKED HER POLITELY!”

Dropping to normal volume, she starts to lead me away.

Woman #1: “Come on, dear. Ignore that b****.”

The crazy woman starts screaming she’s going to get me fired and follows us, so I walk to the customer service counter. The crazy woman is still screaming at me.

I make eye contact with the guy behind the counter.

Me: “Manager, please.”

As he picks up his radio, the crazy lady screams:

Woman #2:  “I WANT YOUR NAME”

And she tried to take my purse off my shoulder. I shoved her off and a manager, another employee, and the nice lady I helped all jumped in to pull her away from me. They called the cops and had her escorted from the store with a permanent ban. I declined pressing charges.

I bought lunch for the short lady and we ended up becoming great friends!

One of the best things about being thirty and older is that you develop a low tolerance for drama in partnerships, gaining a deeper perspective in life as you discover that there is so much more out there than needing to have a significant other at all times.

I ended a four-month-long roller coaster of a relationship with a twenty-six-year-old after deciding that there were too many things about her personality that just didn’t rest well with me. After three months of silence, she contacted me and promised that she would work on her personal issues, and for reasons unclear to me, I elected to give her one last chance on the condition that we take things slowly.

After only a week of communicating only by phone and Facebook, she left me a message.

Girl: “Okay, you know what? I’m done playing around. If you don’t want to be with me, have it your way. I’ve met this guy from [City] and he treats me with way more respect than you ever did!”

She listed all kinds of things about him.

Girl: “I feel strong and safe with him. He is going to be going to [Location] for a vacation and he wants me to come along — and you know what? I’m going with him! It’ll be just him and me! So there! I hope you feel happy now that you blew it with me! Don’t even bother trying to contact me because I’m changing my number! Have a nice life!”

Had I been twenty-one, I would have been ringing her back and trying anything to make her happy. But now, having had all the experiences, I…

…deleted the message, grabbed my tennis racket, and headed for the courts.

Amusingly enough, she contacted me again only a week later.

Girl: “Here is my new number if you ever want to talk and fix things between us.” 

This was later followed several days later with:

Girl: “Okay, I’m sorry. That guy doesn’t really exist; I made it up to make you mad. Can we start over?” 

Neither message got a response. I’m still single, but I’ve learned that it’s better to be happy and alone than to be miserable in a relationship full of drama!

This story is part of our Best Of June 2021 roundup!

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I’m at the eye doctor waiting to be called when a guy comes in and loudly announces: 

Customer: “I guess I have to put on the face diaper.”

He puts on the mask but forgets to cover his nose.

Receptionist: “Please cover your nose.”

Customer: “I guess y’all don’t want me to be able to breathe. 666, a new world order is coming.”

He left without even letting them know what it was he needed.