My aunt was staying with us for a bit so she could attend a funeral. I didn’t know any details about it.

I was doing dishes when I came across a note on the counter with the name of a recently deceased former senator on it. I thought this was rather odd.

Me: “Hey, didn’t [Late Senator] die recently?”

Aunt: “Yes, he was my grandfather.”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

There was silence for about a minute.

Me: “Wait, that’s the funeral that you’re here for.”

Aunt: “Yeah.”

Needless to say, it made her laugh. I was thoroughly embarrassed, though.

It’s a busy morning in the pharmacy; we’ve had tons of new prescriptions coming in to fill, people are picking up their stuff that’s ready, the phones are ringing non-stop, we’re putting away our medication order, and we’ve given at least thirty vaccinations in the couple of hours since we opened.

My coworker is ringing people up at the drive-thru. There’s been a constant line all morning, and she’s selling the prescriptions as fast as she can. Then, she gets this customer.

Coworker: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “Ugh, I’ve been waiting forever to pick up my prescription.”

Coworker: “Sorry about that, it’s been really busy here today. Can I get your name and date of birth?”

The customer gives her the information.

Coworker: “Okay, it looks like that prescription just came through from the doctor, so it’s not ready yet. If you can give us about fifteen minutes, we’ll have it for you. I’ll just need you to pull around to the end of the line while—”

Customer: “What do you mean, it’s not ready yet?! I’m not moving! If you all weren’t so lazy in there, it would be ready already!”

My pharmacist hears this and comes over to the drive-thru.

Pharmacist: “Ma’am, where would you like your prescription transferred to?”

Customer: “What?”

Pharmacist: “Which pharmacy would you like your prescription transferred to?”

Customer: “I don’t want it transferred!”

Pharmacist: “Well, the technician told you that your prescription has just barely arrived from the doctor’s office. So you can either go to the end of the line while we get it ready for you, or I will transfer it to another pharmacy. But you can’t stay where you’re at now.”

Customer: “Fine!”

She went to the end of the line.

I’ve recently started working at a company that provides assistive technology to deaf people. I’m hearing, but I’ve already learned how to sign a few common expressions, like “good morning.” During our morning meeting, this exchange happens.

Me: *Signing* “Good morning!”

Hearing Coworker: “So, this is the sign for ‘morning’?” *Repeats the sign*

Me: “Yup.”

Hearing Coworker: “Not this?” *Does a similar sign*

Me: “Nope.” *To my deaf coworkers* “What does this mean?” *Repeats the similar sign*

Deaf Coworker: “Talk to Human Resources.”

At that moment, I remembered that sign meant, “F*** you!”

I was driving home from work when I made the mistake of cutting another car off. Or, more precisely, I made the mistake of merging over into the lane ahead of another car, with a good four or five car lengths separating us, which led to them suddenly speeding up after I’d completely merged over, moving up to tailgate me, and pounding on their horn.

They carried on like that up until we reached the next intersection, where the light had just turned red. They then jumped over into the left lane that I’d just merged over from, moving up alongside me. I glanced over and saw that the girl in the passenger seat and a guy in the backseat both had their phones out and pointed at me.

Great, someone’s hoping for a new TikTok or something.

I stared up at the light, listening to my music, while peripherally aware of the passenger in the car shouting things that I couldn’t quite make out over my music. As the red light continued to be red, I gave in to my morbid curiosity and turned the volume down on my music just a tad until I could make out what she was saying.

Passenger: “—see you glancing. We can see you look at us. What? You like my t*ts? Huh? You like to—”

Aaand back up goes the volume.

Right as the turn lanes got the green light, I spotted a sudden motion out of the corner of my eye. I foolishly looked over on instinct and spotted the passenger swinging her arm to apparently try and hit my window. She’d evidently underestimated just how far apart our vehicles were, and so she’d missed, but as I watched, she hauled herself up like a lunging seal, shoving herself up onto the edge of the window, still clutching her phone in one hand while balling up her fist in the other to try and give my window a punch.

Before she actually could, however, the light turned green. I immediately stepped on the gas, accelerating forward, and as I did, I heard a short scream from her, audible over a lull in my music.

Passenger: “MY PHONE!”

A glance in my side mirror showed her now jackknifed over the edge of the car window, trying to reach something on the ground. I’m guessing that my sudden movement startled her enough to lose her grip on her phone, or maybe her contortions to try and wiggle out of the window loosened her grip.

Either way, I don’t think they were going to be able to post whatever “viral hits video” they were hoping for.

My dad and I were getting some lunch, and I decided I wanted chicken. We went to a popular fried chicken place, and as we were eating, a lady came in. I didn’t hear everything, but she was loud so I could hear some. It seemed she was complaining about them messing her order up, and she “is very careful about watching her diet.” This confused me; she was at a fast food restaurant. 

I could hear the manager trying to get some clarifying information, as the lady wasn’t really explaining what was wrong. It also seemed the lady wanted a refund but also wanted her food corrected. I couldn’t see very well from where we were sitting, but suddenly, the woman shrieked at the top of her lungs.

Customer: “OH, MY F****** GOD! OH, MY F****** GOD! ARE YOU HOMOSEXUALS?! I F****** HATE HOMOSEXUALS!”

She then stormed out of the building and walked away. I watched her to make sure I didn’t need to call the cops. It was so scary and so weird that most of us were silent for several minutes — and there were kids in the establishment.

I got into our car but then decided to give the employees something. I tried to find some money but I couldn’t find any cash, so I felt bad I didn’t give them a tip. However, I wrote a note on a receipt that said, “Don’t let it get to you. It says more about them than about you. Keep up the great work!” and left it at the front counter.

Part of me wishes I had said, “Well, I hate homophobes!”