Due to renovations made by the prior owner, the front door of our house is partially blocked on the inside, so we use the side door. We have gone so far as to put a large storage cabinet on the porch directly in front of the door and have posted a sign directing people to use the side door. We’ve never really had a problem.

I am puttering around in the kitchen when I hear a sharp pounding on the front door. I quickly finish pulling food from the oven, all while the pounding continues in a firm, steady beat. Our kitchen is right by the side door, so I exit and circle around to the stairs at the end of the front porch, where I find a well-dressed lady pounding on the door. She has obviously moved our large storage cabinet away from the door, and her face is roughly six inches away from our large sign directing people to the side door, but she is just pounding away on the door.

Me: “Can I help you?”

The woman glances at me before very obviously turning away in dismissal and continuing to pound on the door.

Me: “Ma’am, that door is blocked. Like the sign says, we use the side door.”

She doesn’t even bother to look at me, just continuing to pound on the front door. I am getting a bit steamed at the incessant banging and her ignoring me.

Me: *Stepping up onto the porch* “Oi! That door isn’t—”

At that point, she spun to face me, her face shifting from boredom to looking terrified, and she dashed to and vaulted over the railing of our porch, sailing over the bushes to land on the lawn, and sprinted for her car. I honestly have no idea how she managed to stick the landing when she was wearing heels, but she made it and proceeded to peel out and speed off down the street.

For my part, I grunted and heaved to shift the storage cabinet back into position — I seriously don’t know how a woman matching my size and build was able to drag it away without making any noise — and then headed back in to finish preparing dinner.

I’m finally catching up with a friend, now we are allowed to meet up outside. We walk around a local park chatting, and it seems that there are lots of people with the same idea.

I suggest grabbing a drink from the stall.

Friend: “Can I get a lemonade?”

Me: “I’ll have a diet cola.”

Cashier: “Oh, sorry, we don’t have any. Oh, wait! The last one.”

Me: “Lucky me.”

I pay for us and we turn to leave, but a woman next in line steps in front of us, her hands on her hips.

Woman: “Err, excuse me. I don’t think what you did was very respectful of others.”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “You! You took the last diet soda! Some of us are trying to lose weight, you know!”

She turns to what looks like her mother.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I like the flavour. I don’t like the regular one.”

Woman: *Dramatic sighing* “Oh, he doesn’t like the flavour. Well, what am I supposed to drink?”

I’m not very good with confrontation. I’m half-thinking about just going home when my friend speaks up.

Friend: “[Woman]?”

Woman: “What?”

Friend: “Your name is [Woman], isn’t it?”

Woman: “So what?”

Friend: “I recognise you; you used to bully us all back in school. Looks like not much has changed there. Still a nasty piece of work, huh?”

Woman: “I don’t know you.”

Friend: “Good, keep it that way. You’re not worth the breath.”

Woman: “Give me the soda!”

Friend: “Oh, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. F*** you, [Woman]. You can’t bully anyone anymore.” *To me* “Come on. We still have lots to catch up on.”

We had a great time after that. It turns out that [Woman] really was a nasty piece of work and made a lot of people’s lives h***. She kept on bullying people until she couldn’t keep a job or even a social media account.

I have a very small piece of land outside the front of my house. I have a few mature shrubs growing, really just so it isn’t bare ground. I keep it in reasonable shape, weed it when I remember, and trim it before it really goes onto the path. It’s never been an issue before today.

I hear an angry knock on the door and I answer.

Woman: “Your bushes, they cut me!”

She shows me the sleeve of her coat; it is indeed badly torn.

Me: “Oh, I, err… I’m sorry. I had no idea it was on the path.” 

Woman: “Oh, he didn’t know. He didn’t know. How is this fixing my coat?”

Me: “There is nothing I can do right now. But if you leave me your details, I—”

Woman: “You take this and buy me a new one. My husband will be round later. You’d better pay.”

She throws her coat at me and leaves.

I feel awful. I figure I’d better trim the bushes back before anyone else gets hurt. As I go outside with the shears, I quickly realise that the bushes are well away from the path. They haven’t grown much at all since I cut them. Confused, I ask my neighbour if their doorbell caught what happened.

It did! It turns out the woman was on her phone, tripped over her own feet, and fell into the bush. It was hilarious; she waddled around for ages to get out.

When her husband comes around, I show him the video.

Husband: “I should be pissed off, but that was funny as f***! Can you send that to me?”

Me: “What about the coat?”

Husband: “Oh, yeah, I’d better take that, too. Sorry about my wife; she can be a real dumba** sometimes.”

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I am traveling across southern Colorado, and I stop at a campground. It is morning and people are in line to take showers. A girl goes into the shower, and about ten minutes go by. Some more time passes. We are all wondering what is taking so long.

Me: “Hey! There are fourteen people in line here waiting for you to finish your shower.”

Another five minutes go by, and the girl finally comes out

Girl: “Now there’re thirteen waiting.”

Me: “No, now there are twenty-one people waiting.”

She didn’t apologize.

I’m heading home from my college summer job, and a traffic light changes before I expect it to; I’ve never come this way before. I fumble the clutch and stall the engine.

The guy behind me nearly plows into me and leans on the horn until I get the car restarted. In fact, he whips around me, nearly hitting me as I move off, and he flips me a bird as he does.

At the next light, I’m right behind him… where he proves that he is also driving a manual transmission by stalling his engine!

I tap my horn — just a warbly little “toot!” — and laugh as he flinches.

Karma is seldom so obliging!