In the waiting room of the ER, and some woman gets a call and takes it on speakerphone, because of course she does.

Guy On Phone: “You’ll have to take a different route home on the way back because [Road] is closed.”

Woman: “But that means I’ll have to take [Other Road] home! I hate that road! It has roundabouts!”

Guy On Phone: “You’ve taken it before.”

Woman: “Yeah, but I hate them! I hope someone gets killed in one of those roundabouts so they’ll realize how awful they are and stop putting them everywhere!”

She said this as we had been informed there would be a multi-hour wait time for non-emergencies because of a bad car accident.

I’ve gone to a high-end department store with my wife. I like going there because it has a central atrium with a piano that customers can play while they’re waiting for their shopping partners to finish (at least that’s what I use it for).

Having been classically trained since childhood, I enjoy going through some famous pieces, Mozart, Beethoven, what have you. It suits the sophisticated air of the place, and it helps keep me in practice. 

An older woman approaches me with a look about her that she’s about to make a request. She’s wearing an expensive coat and scarf combo and looks like she has caviar for breakfast.

Woman: “Excuse me, are you doing requests?”

Me: “If I know it, I’ll play it.”

Woman: “Can you do Shake It Off, by Taylor Swift?”

I blink a couple of times.

Me: “I have two daughters aged nine and thirteen. I could do that with my eyes closed.”

And so I put that Steinway & Sons through its paces to the G major melody of Taylor Swift’s 2014 classic, ‘Shake It Off’, while this old lady bopped along in her designer outfit. Other requests from other shoppers quickly followed. 

By the time my wife came to ‘pick me up,’ I’d also put that piano through its paces to Despacito, K-Pop Demon Hunters, and the Pokémon theme song.

The day before Easter, my wife and I helped our kids make colored eggs. Some we dyed, some we painted. And others were just plastic with candy. My kids doodled little faces on them for fun.

On Easter morning, my wife and I went to my parents’ house because they live on the edge of the city, right next to some woods. They’ve got a good two-acre property with a few scattered apple trees, a garden, a play structure for the kids my dad hand-built, and some decent-sized bushes. Perfect for hiding eggs in.

We spent a good hour in the morning placing the eggs in clever but also easy-to-find places for the kids. We also invited a friend of my wife, who was a single mom with a little girl, to join in, and she was overjoyed that we invited her.

We took a little break to have a coffee and chat after hiding the eggs, as we’d planned to go out looking for them at noon since it was a little chilly that morning, but my mom suddenly came to us and said there was a lady with kids she’d never seen before hunting for the eggs in the backyard. Her kids were using the baskets we’d set aside for our own egg hunt; they’d been left sitting by the garden for when the hunt was to start, and those thieving little brats just took them without a care.

I told my wife to pull out her phone and start recording just in case. My wife and I have both dealt with entitled people before, and having video evidence can really help. We then went outside.

Me: “Hey! What do you think you’re doing here! This is private property!”

Uninvited Mom: “GAH! Don’t sneak up on me! What is wrong with you!”

Me: “What’s wrong with me?! You’re trespassing on private property and letting your kids steal our eggs!”

By this point, her two kids had run to hide behind her, and they were blowing raspberries at me.

Me: “Give those eggs back! They aren’t yours!”

Uninvited Mom: What’s wrong with you! They’re just little kids! I couldn’t afford to give them a good Easter this year! And when we saw all of the eggs you were hiding, I just thought maybe you could share. Besides, they’re just eggs! Go to the store and get more!”

Me: “My family lovingly colored and painted those eggs all day yesterday! And you will give them back! Or so help me…”

And then the woman actually slapped me across the face and stomped on my foot at the same time. I got bullied a fair bit as a kid, so it didn’t faze me nearly as much as she thought, plus, she couldn’t stomp or hit very hard at all.

I’m pretty sure she realized she had badly screwed up, because she started backing away.

Me: “Last chance! Return the eggs now!”

Uninvited Mom: No! We got them first!”

I was done with this crap and turned to tell my family to just call the police. The mom started shouting at me that we can’t call the police over some stupid eggs. My dad then went and blocked the side gate, which is how she had gotten in.

We don’t know how she was spying on us since she wasn’t even a neighbor to my parents, but when we refused to let her leave, she started screaming hysterically that we were illegally detaining her.

The police arrived in about ten minutes. By then, she had huddled with her kids on the bench by the garden. My wife showed the cops the video of her slapping me, and they quickly told her she was under arrest and forced her kids to give back the eggs and baskets. She started screaming that it wasn’t fair, and she just wanted a happy Easter for her kids. Her kids didn’t make things easy for the police either, as they tried to hit them for arresting their mom.

We made a few statements, and the police carted off the woman and her family. Then we rehid all of the eggs, which took longer because we had to double-check any places we’d already hidden eggs to see if they weren’t there. The kids were all super upset that someone tried to steal their eggs, too, and it took some work to calm them down, but they all still got their Easter egg hunt, and all was well.

That uninvited mom more or less got off easy. She pleaded guilty and got a fine. During court, I found out from her soon-to-be ex-husband that they were in the middle of a divorce that she had been intentionally dragging out. After court, we didn’t see or hear from any of them again, but I’d like to think that the situation gave the dad the edge he needed in the divorce. It’s become a funny story we like to share with people once in a while.

I’m waiting for a bus at a bus stop. A guy standing near me lights up a cigarette.

Me: “Excuse me, you can’t do that at a bus stop. Walk away if you’re smoking.”

The guy angles himself so that his back is to me and the bus stop. He continues smoking.

Me: “Oi! I know you can hear me! Stop smoking! There’s a sign!”

Guy: *Not turning around.* “I can’t see the sign, so it doesn’t apply.”

Me: “That’s not how it works, f***-cake. Put it out or walk away.”

Guy: *Still not turning around.* “Can’t see a sign, so I won’t.”

An old lady with (I assume) her grandson has been sitting at the bus stop. She gets up, walks up behind the man, and whacks him with her handbag. It’s not a hard hit, but it does startle him.

Guy: *Turning around.* “What the f—”

Old Lady: *In a thick Jamaican accent.* “Now you be turnin’ around, and you see the sign you dutty man!”

Guy: “Did you just hit me with your bag?!”

Me: “You didn’t see it happen, so it doesn’t apply.”

Guy: “I’m telling the bus driver what you did when he gets here!”

The guy actually stood there angrily for three minutes until the bus came. He pushed ahead of us to tell the bus driver he’d been assaulted. I then filled in the gaps in the guy’s story for the driver.

Driver: “So what I got from that was, you were illegally smoking at a bus stop in front of a child, asked to stop, refused, and grandma made a move to protect said child. Yeah, not looking good for you, is it mate?”

Guy: “I want you to call the police!”

Driver: “Feel free, from the pavement. I have a route to finish, and my passengers are getting impatient.”

The guy grunts but then tries to get on the bus.

Driver: “Mate, if you think you’re getting on this bus, you’re deluded. You take one more step closer, and I will be the one calling the police.”

He starts swearing loudly, but with everyone against him (now including all the bus passengers), he angrily steps off the bus. He makes a show of getting his phone out as old Jamaican lady, her grandson, and I get on the bus.

Guy: “I’m calling ‘Transport For London’ and reporting you!”

Driver: “You sound stressed, mate. Have a ciggie and calm down.” *Closes bus door and drives off.*

I gave the bus driver my email in case he needed someone to tell the true story to defend him if that guy called to complain.

A few years back, I’m swimming with my three-year-old son. We had the pool to ourselves apart from one other lady.

The pool is L-shaped, split into the main bit with lanes, and a square bit that was notionally the kids’ pool, but only because it’s shallower.

My son was learning to swim without armbands, and so we were in the wide lane, while the lady was swimming in the narrow lane, labelled Adults Only.

After one length of my son swimming a whole length with me encouraging him, she says:

Lady: “You can’t swim here; this is adults only.”

Bull-s*** lady, you’re in the adults-only bit. Except, I can’t say that in front of my very eloquent three-year-old.

Me: “It’s just your lane that’s adults only, look, there’s the sign. My son is learning to swim lengths.”

She starts ranting at me about how she pays her membership fees (so do I, funnily enough) and I’m wrong (check the sign) and basically having a tantrum.

Lady, I’m Mum to a three-year-old. I can handle this behaviour, and I’m gonna speak to you exactly as I would to my child, probably in the same tone of voice, because I’m in Mummy mode, and my son is listening.

Me: “I can see you’re upset about this, but I’m very sorry, we are allowed to swim here.”

She rants a bit more, and I very calmly gentle parent her, until she eventually sputters and tells me:

Lady: “Shut up!”

And flounces off.

Son: “Mummy! She just told you to shut up! That’s so rude!”

I made no effort to speak quietly and said:

Me: “Yes, it really was. She was cross because she couldn’t get her own way. But you’re right, it’s very rude to say that to someone.”

We then proceeded to swim a good few more lengths, and I very vocally and cheerfully encouraged him the whole time.

Went to the front desk after to double-check I was right (I was). Apparently, she’d also been to complain and been told to suck it up.