My husband was not well educated growing up; his “homeschooling” was essentially whatever he learned by watching his older siblings and online videos. A lot of his knowledge — particularly reading — is self-taught.

We recently bought a new water heater and our first water softener. The water softener was no problem, but the heater was a beast. I asked if [Husband] needed help removing the old one from the basement. He insisted he was fine because his brother was coming over. It was an eighty-gallon heater with years of calcium built up inside, so it was not light. I left the boys to their dirty work and started on dinner.

About an hour later, [Brother] brought [Husband] in, one arm draped over his shoulders.

Me: “What happened?!”

Husband: “I was trying to lift the old heater and something in my back popped.”

Me: “Okay, let’s lay you down on the couch and I’ll get an ice pack. [Brother], start Googling pulled muscles versus herniated discs. [Husband], do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

Husband: “No, I’ll just die here. Don’t let the cats eat me.”

Me: “And waste all this free food? That’s pretty selfish.”

Brother: *Ignoring the cat talk* “I think he pulled a muscle.”

Me: “Okay, rest for a while. Here’s the ice pack.”

[Husband] spent the night on the couch, unable to get up. The next morning, I helped him hobble to the bathroom.

Me: “Is it better or worse? Or just the same?”

Husband: “I don’t know… It hurts! I’m an imbecile!”

Me: *Laughing* “Well, yeah, a little bit. Why did you try to lift it alone?”

Husband: “I didn’t think it was that heavy once it was emptied.”

Me: “Ah. You want me to draw you a bath? You can use the hot water from the fancy new heater!”

Husband: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay.”

Husband: “Wait.”

Me: “What?”

Husband: “What’s the word for someone who gets hurt and can’t walk?”

Me: “Um… an invalid?”

Husband: “What word did I use before?”

Me: *Trying not to laugh* “‘Imbecile’.”

Husband: “What is that?”

Me: “Well… you weren’t wrong when you called yourself an imbecile. It’s basically… a stupid person. Like someone who tries to lift an eighty-gallon water heater alone.”

Husband: “Fair enough. I’ll take it.”

He did recover with a few days of rest and pain meds. And now he has two new words in his vocabulary!

I work in a small family-owned restaurant. The prices are reasonable as long as you don’t do too many substitutions or add-ons. Chips are included with every meal but the upcharge for fries or a salad instead is $3-4.

An older gentleman comes to order take-out and he’s on the phone with whom I assume is his wife. He orders both their meals and is giving me his complete attention, so I’m not annoyed by the phone call because it isn’t busy and he just wants to make sure her order is correct.

I ask about the sides. He has me repeat the options so he can relay them to his wife.

Customer: On the phone. “Don’t worry about the cost; I’ll get you whatever side you’d like. Do you want the fries?” *To me, after a pause.* “How much for the sweet potato fries?”

Me: “$3.”

Customer: On the phone. “They’re $1.” *Gives me a knowing look.*

I put in the sweet potato fries and finished the transaction. When his order was up he gave me a fist bump and wished me well. I told all my coworkers about the gentleman’s white lie and how nice it was that he wanted to get her what she wanted.

This happened a while ago when a household generally had one computer for the whole family. We, however, had two: my mother’s computer, strictly for her job — she was working from home as a copywriter/proofreader and couldn’t easily let us use hers — and my brother’s and mine. Since we only used the computer for fun and kept downloading stupid games, it was less performant than our mother’s. We often complained since ours was extremely slow, and our mother was planning to buy a new computer for us.

At some point, one of her clients offered her a deal: she would give him a big discount on the corrected documents and, in return, he would offer her two brand-new computers. She agreed to the deal and enthusiastically told us about it.

However, after a few jobs were completed, there was still no sign of the promised computers. Plus, the client was very late on his bill. At some point, she sent him an email.

Mother: “Hello, [Client]. I hope this email finds you well. I couldn’t help but notice that the last bills haven’t been paid on your end. Could you please send me the payment before the end of the month? Thank you and kind regards.”

The next day, the answer came.

Client: “Hello, [Mother]. I am certain I don’t have to remind you of our agreement about the computers. Kind regards.”

Yep, that was all. My mother replied.

Mother: “Hello, [Client]. Thank you for your fast answer. The terms of the agreement were a discount on the corrected documents in exchange for the computers, not that I would work for free. Can I ask you again to please pay your bill? Thank you and kind regards.”

His answer came soon after. It was an extremely aggressive email, telling my mother she was awful and a fraud, that the deal was off, and that he would never work with her again. And he basically called her a whore; if I recall correctly, he told her she probably preferred working with someone who would give her more pleasure and satisfaction.

In shock, she showed my brother and me the email. Furious, we told her that we didn’t want the computers anymore as no computer was worth having my mother called a prostitute. She agreed and sent the guy an email saying that, since the deal was off, the full amount for the proofreading was in the new bill attached, to be paid by the end of the month; otherwise, late fees would be applied.

A few days later, the guy sent her another email requesting another proofreading “with a discounted price, according to our deal”. She refused the job. The next day, the client’s wife called for the same job. My mother told her she would not do it and that she would not work with the client ever again, and she summarised the content of the email he had sent her. His wife said she understood and apologised.

The bill was paid in full the next day.

The pastor of our church asked my husband and me if we would consider refinancing our home. Why? He felt it would be beneficial for us to “donate” the equity to the church to help build a new facility with a basketball court. It was the pastor’s “dream basketball court”, but he promised up and down that it would be for the church’s youth. He ended up convincing several families to donate their home equity toward his— I mean, the church’s project.

I flat-out refused. My husband was furious with me for refusing, and we had several escalating arguments over it. Coupled with pressure from the pastor, including a list of people who had already donated and several quotes from the Bible, it very quickly grew to a head.

I turned on my husband and told him he could keep the church in the divorce, but I was going to sell him our house and give him his half to do whatever the h*** he pleased with it. I made it completely clear that there was no way I was going to put my half of the divorce settlement toward this “project”.

In the end, everyone lost their money, and the building was never built. We have no idea where the pastor is to this day; he just disappeared shortly after enough money was donated.

I put the money down on a new home, and I’m very happy with my single life.

Our restaurant is super busy today. I’ve just dropped off the food at a table occupied by a couple.

Husband: “You need to cut my sandwich in half.”

He did not specify this when ordering. Rather than walk it all the way back to the kitchen and bother a bunch of slammed line cooks, I bring him a steak knife.

Husband: “Can you, like, do it for me?”

He is a fully capable adult. I’ve seen him tapping away on his phone and drinking with perfect precision.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to touch your food before you eat it. Can you just do it?”

He rolls his eyes and gives a huff and a puff.

Wife: “Jesus, [Husband], give me the d*** knife.”

She cut his sandwich in half for him.