I’m at my local roller derby game, and I decide that a beverage is just right for the occasion.

A local brewery is supplying the beers, and the bar is run by skaters from the league.

I buy two beers, and the total comes to something like $18. I hand the lady a $20 and three dollars in change. She looks at me weirdly and says, “It’s only $18.”

I reply, “It’s so you can give me a $5 note instead of coins.”  

“Oh! That’s clever. Did you work it out when you were queueing up?”

I just let it slide, thank the lovely lady, and leave with my cans.

I worked in concessions at a stadium for a professional sports team a few years ago. It is raining and a ton of people are loitering in front of my stand for cover. I’ve just returned from getting stock from another location and am drenched from head to foot. I notice a man, probably mid-30s, is sitting on the counter, blocking the register to the point that another guest is actually leaning around him to place her order.

Me: Sir, you can’t sit on the counter. Please get down.

Him: Are you joking? You must not realize that it is raining.

Me: (looking down at the puddle at my feet) Sir, I can assure you, I realize it is raining. You still cannot sit on the counter. Please, again, get down. We serve food here. And you are blocking the register.

Him: Fine. (He scoots over, out of the way of the register but does not get off the counter.)

Me: Sir, this is the last time I’m going to tell you. Get off the counter please.

Him: What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s raining! I’m not fucking bothering anyone.

Me: Have it your way sir. (I get on the radio.) Attention management, I need a manager and a uniform at [concession stand] as soon as possible please.

Him: What the fuck? Why are you calling the police on me? I’m not doing anything wrong you fucking bitch. You can’t tell me what to do.

Radio: Copy, this is [officer]. I’ve got this under control.

An older man steps around the corner. He is one of our undercover police officers. He blended in so well with the crowd that I didn’t even notice him when I returned a few minutes before.

Officer: Actually sir, you’re very wrong. You’re cussing this woman when she is just doing her job and believe me, she is definitely correct in telling you to get off the counter. It isn’t just that no one wants to buy food after your soggy ass is sitting on the service counter. It’s also a violation of Health & Safety standards.

Man: Fuck you old man. Mind your business.

Officer: (flashes his badge) This place is my business. Let’s take a walk.

A minute later, I hear another call over the radio.

Radio: This is [officer]. Cancel the call for management and a uniform to [concession stand]. The guest has seen the error of his ways and has decided to graciously apologize.

Sure enough, the man returned to the stand- drenched by the rain- and apologized. The defeated look on his face was priceless. I never saw him again.

I’m at a hockey game waiting in line for a drink. A few people ahead of me in the next line over there were this mother and son. It was clear the boy had some sort of mental handicap. 

As this guy who had just bought drinks and food was walking away from the counter, the boy accidentally ran into him and knocked everything out of the guy’s arms. But, even after seeing that this boy clearly had a handicap, and after his mother apologized several times and offered to pay for all of his food and drinks, instead of exercising a little patience or showing a little human decency, this guy said:

“Are you f****** kidding me?! He shouldn’t be allowed out in public! What kind of person brings someone like him out around other people? From now on, try keeping your d*** [ableist slur] on a leash!”

Just as a couple of people in line started to move forward and shut this jerk up, an older woman — maybe in her mid-60s — walked up to him and just slapped him right across the face! 

She said, “You are the only disgrace that I see! How dare you speak to another person like that?! Who on Earth raised you? If I were your mother, I would be embarrassed, and you should feel so ashamed.” 

And then, to top it all off… another gentleman in line paid for this mother and her son’s food and the jerk stormed off, empty-handed and pouting. 

God, I love Bostonians.

(My dad and I are attending a game for our local football team and, as usual, it is more or less a sell-out. Visiting is a particularly popular London team and there are two fans behind us who seem particularly cocky about their team winning this game. During the match, things are neck and neck pretty early on, and at one stage, one of the opposing strikers is about to shoot the ball.)

Fan #1: “Oh, my God, he’s nailed it… It’s in!”

(The ball sails wide of the post.)

Fan #1: “What?! I was sure that was going in!”

(A couple of minutes later, the same player is about to shoot yet again.)

Fan #1: “Oh, my God, he’s nailed it… It’s in!”

(The ball flies over the crossbar. Later in that half, the same thing happens yet again.)

Fan #1: “HE’S NAILED IT! IT’S…”

(This time, the goalie saves it easily.)

Fan #2: “Maybe you should stop f****** saying that, you idiot! 

(One final time, right before the end of the half…)

Fan #1: “Oh, my God, he’s… 

Fan #2: “If you finish that bloody sentence, you’ll be missing your f****** teeth! 

(My team went on to win four to nothing, and those guys were very quiet for the rest of the game.)

(My brother is interning at a baseball stadium where his jobs mainly consist of doing promotional events. A mother with a young son approach him. This event occurred on a Saturday.)

Brother: “How may I help you?”

Mother: “You need to shoot off fireworks on Saturday!”

Brother: *trying to be helpful* “We usually only use the fireworks on Friday for the-”

Mother: “Well, YOU need to have fireworks on Saturday!”

Brother: “Next Friday we will be having the firework promotion again if you would like to attend.”

Mother: “My son wants fireworks! Get it done!” *storms off*