I live in an apartment building. Where I live, there’s no such thing as pet-free housing. By law, all residential areas must allow pets within reason (you can’t have a cow inside an apartment). I usually leave home with my service dog unvested and put his vest on if I have to; where I live, service dogs must be vested and have an ID and tag.

I am getting my mail at a common area of the building and a lady is just leaving the elevator with a kid (her granddaughter) when she sees my dog. My dog is a pit bull and is in no way or form aggressive or reactive.

Lady: “[Kid], stay behind me! That’s a dangerous dog!”

Me: “Actually, he’s very docile and well-trained.”

Lady: “But that’s a pit bull! You can’t have that thing in here.”

Kid: “I want to play with the dog!”

Lady: “Shut up, [Kid]!”

Me: “I can have him here; he’s my dog, and by law, he has all the right to be here.”

Lady: *Clearly taken aback* “Well, by law, dangerous dogs have to wear muzzles!”

Me: “That’s right, but he isn’t a dangerous dog, and he’s a service dog. His tasks can’t be properly done with a muzzle and the law allows it.”

Lady: *Grinning* “Well, I’m in a hurry right now, but next time, I’ll call the police and see what they have to say.”

I really, really hope she does that. If she does, I’ll have her charged with harassment.

I’m sweeping up some clippings after an afternoon of gardening outside the small front of my house.

A man and two women stroll past, talking jovially, but I can’t understand what they say. Weirdly, they stop a few feet from me. The guy stares at me and then clicks fingers at me.

Man: “What is that?”

He points at me.

Me: “What is what?”

Woman #1: “The watch — what is it?”

Me: “It’s a watch; tells the time.”

I go back to sweeping.

Man: “Let me see.”

He snaps his finger and reaches out his hand.

Me: “Nope.”

I pick up my tools and walk back to the house.

Woman #1: “You come back here! We want to know where you got that from.”

Me: *Lying* “A watch shop. What is it to you?”

Woman #2: “People around here, so rude.”

Me: “Please and thank you will get you far ‘around here.’”

I chalk it down to rudeness, maybe a failed robbery attempt. I put it out of my mind, and I don’t see them around for a few days.

Then, I get a note through my door.

Note: “I want to buy your watch, £5. Not worth any more than that.”

It wasn’t until I checked the local social media pages that I discovered that these three had been approaching people all over the neighbourhood, poking around people’s open garages, and looking in the back of cars. They’d been looking to rip people off, lying about the value of things and trying to buy cheap.

It turns out that they did me a favour in a way; I got the watch valued and it was worth way more than I thought. I still have it, but I don’t wear it to do the gardening anymore!

I work in security, and I am a gate guard for a public-owned outdoor entertainment area. While I’m waiting there, a man walks past taking his young son — three or four — to daycare.

Man: “Boys don’t cry, [Son]. Only girls do.” *Sees me and addresses me* “Isn’t that right?”

Me: “Actually, boys can cry. Only really strong men and boys cry; it’s weak men that think only girls do. If you cry, it’s because you are a strong boy.”

The man goes red in the face, hurries to the daycare down the road, and then comes back to yell at me. I turn around and point out:

Me: “I’m a female in the role of a male. I’m doing a ‘man’s’ job. And you are a chauvinist pig to teach your son such toxic masculinity.”

Man: “Well, I’m French and that is our culture.”

Me: “This is New Zealand and it is not our culture.”

One day, I’m home with my kids when there is a knock on the front door. My two huskies are excited to see who came to visit and my two kids are in the background; my five-year-old daughter is keeping her younger brother, almost a year old, entertained with toys.

I peek through the side window by the door and see two younger men, probably in their early twenties, in nice-looking suits and ties. They’re holding brochures in their hands and standing there patiently. I answer the door.

Me: “Can I help you?”

I’m holding my two huskies back behind me. Most people that see huskies are a bit hesitant and think they’re wolves and keep at bay a bit more, but not [Guy #1].

Guy #1: *Joyfully* “Hello there! I hope things are well today. We’re coming from [New Church] in the area, and we wanted to talk to people around the area to let them know we’re here and how we’d like to share the word of God.”

I’m not a religious person. I don’t agree with how churches function in general, but I don’t tell others how to be religious and let them do what they want. 

I give the two guys kind of a distasteful look.

Me: “I appreciate your time, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not interested in anything you’re having to share. I hope you two have a good day.”

[Guy #2] has been standing about six feet behind [Guy #1].

Guy #2: “Thanks for your time.”

And he turns around to start to leave. I move back a couple of steps into my house and I start to shut the front door. [Guy #1] decides it’s okay to step into my door and push a brochure into my face, and he tries to start talking again about their mission.

I snap. I step right up into [Guy #1]’s face since he is now standing in my doorway just inside my house and I have my two kids behind me. I have no idea what this guy is trying to do or what he is capable of.

I growl at him as I jab my finger into his chest.

Me: “I don’t know who the f*** you think you are, but if you don’t step out of my house right now, I’m going to f*** you up.”

Behind me, my female husky is now growling and showing her teeth. She is very protective of the kids, and with me worked up and angry with [Guy #1], she’s gone into protective mode. To keep her from coming at the guy, I have to grab her collar and hold her back.

[Guy #2] turns and runs while [Guy #1] stumbles backward, stammering, trying to say something. Maybe he’s trying to apologize, but I won’t let him get a word out.

I scold [Guy #1] more as he keeps stumbling backward.

Me: “I politely told you I wasn’t interested in what you had to say, and I even told you guys to have a good day, and you are trying to step into my house, uninvited! I’m home with my kids. I don’t know you, and I sure as h*** will f*** you up to protect my kids, and I won’t stop my dog from tearing your s*** up, either, should you try to push your way into my house.”

[Guy #1] was now white as a ghost, and he turned around and ran off.

My wife got home about four hours later and I told her about the guys that came to the door and what transpired. She told me that I treated them rudely, and she said she would have just slammed the door in their face. I told her slamming the door in their face would have been rude. I politely told them I wasn’t interested and told them to have a good day. It wasn’t until [Guy #1] stepped into the door that I threatened them.

I’m walking down the street wearing a Miles Morales sweater, and a kid and his mom pass me.

Kid: “Cool sweater!”

Me: “Thanks!”

I keep walking. That’s when the mom gets involved.

Woman: “GET BACK HERE NOW!”

I think that maybe I accidentally tripped her son or something, but I turn around and both of them are standing there, completely fine, her son oblivious.

Me: “Is something wrong?”

Woman: “HOW DARE YOU WEAR THAT SWEATER, YOU RACIST!”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “You’re wearing that sweater so you can pretend that you’re not racist and get the support of the BLM community!”

Me: *Still confused* “Um, I just like Miles Mora—”

Woman: “No! You’re just a white person trying to look supportive of BLM!”

Me: *Sighs* “If you’re just gonna waste my time, I’m gonna just keep walking.”

Woman: “NO! YOU WILL NOT WALK AWAY FROM THIS!”

I start walking away as she keeps screaming at me, and I think of the best truth bomb to drop on this woman.

Me: “Oh, and by the way, Miles Morales is half Puerto Rican, and so am I.”

The lady looked surprised, paused, and then kept going. I blocked her out and kept walking.