A** T*** M*****

, , , , , , | Legal | February 15, 2020

(I work as a night-time cashier in a small-town gas station. Our ATM is out of service at this time. A customer walks in.)

Customer: “Do you guys have an ATM?”

(She is polite and kind about it.)

Me: “We do but it’s currently not working.”

Customer: *sighs* “Oh, okay. Do you guys do cashback?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we don’t.”

(The customer’s politeness turns into an angry rage)

Customer: “Well, you guys are f****** lame. You guys should do f****** cashback, since you lazy a**** want to mess up the g**d*** machines so that customers can’t use them. Some of us prefer to pay with cash!”

Me: *calmly* “I apologize that the ATM isn’t working and that we don’t do cashback, but there are two ATMs nearby that you can try to use…”

(I then tell her the location of said ATMs, which aren’t but a few blocks in each direction. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t say anything while I’m explaining this. After I’m finished, though, she starts yelling again)

Customer: “F*** you and this g**d*** place. You can go suck a c*** with your nasty-a** attitude. I’m not coming here again.”

(As she turns and heads out the door, I say, “Have a great night, ma’am,” but she stops as soon as I finish speaking and turns around. I then grab the phone and hide it with my fingers on the keypad, as I know what possibly could happen and may have to end up calling the cops.)

Customer: “What did you f****** call me?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to quit your name-calling and being disrespectful, or you can leave.”

Customer: “I’m not going any-f******-where.”

(Then, she started cussing me and berating me. By this time, I had dialed the number to the police and hit the talk button. While I was on the phone, she was making statements like, “F*** the police. They’re not going to s***,” etc. After talking with the dispatcher, I hung up, and she said something else, ran out the door, got in her car, and squealed tires out of the parking lot. I quickly called the dispatcher back and described the vehicle she was driving. Dispatch informed me that the police were on the way. About a minute later, she came back into the parking lot in a calm manner and got out of her car. As she was doing this, the police arrived, and she got back in the car and tried to back out and speed away. She hit a police car in the progress. Naturally, they told her several times to get on the ground but she refused, and they ended up having to use a taser on her as she started running toward the police officers. After a while of dealing with her and securing her in the police car, the officer came in and got my side of the story. He informed me that she had stated that I tried to swing at her along with making racist comments and refusing service. Mind you, she had the same skin color as I do. The officer then told me that she should be banned from the place — I have the authority to request someone to be banned since I’m the only one working at night — per my manager, and that she turned out to have drugs on her, several assault charges, several warrants out for her arrest, and a few other charges, and was officially now banned at every gas station in my small town. Months later, I read that she had gotten many years in prison and had to pay thousands of dollars in damages. How I love Karma.)

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Sadly, She’s Not Scone Anywhere

, , , , , , | Right | February 14, 2020

When I was a young teen, I worked at a fifties-themed restaurant in our heavily tourist-oriented downtown. I was just the dishwasher and prep cook, and the real star of our little restaurant was our elderly cook.

She made all our fabulous baked goods, soups, desserts, and sauces, and she had “signature” items that drew in a lot of people. She had been a sous-chef at some high-end, fancy restaurant before her age made her look for something less demanding. She was in her 70s, a tough, plainspoken, chain-smoking kitchen genius. One of the things she made better than anyone else was scones.

One busy Sunday morning, she had already worked her hours and gone home. I was alone in the kitchen, since the fry cook had left for a bathroom break and the restaurant’s owner was up front handling the cash register.

Suddenly, a very large, loud woman in a vividly red dress barged into the kitchen and started yelling at me that she wanted the cook’s scone recipe. She forced me into a corner and kept screaming in my face about how she came to Stratford every year and how the cook always refused to share her recipe.

I was only fourteen and a rather timid, shy fourteen at that, and the woman’s yelling, flailing arms, and intrusion into my physical space had me scared, flustered, and close to tears.

The business’s owner heard the woman yelling even over the din of a full restaurant and ran into the kitchen. Seeing what was going on, she grabbed the screeching woman by the neck of her dress and bodily hauled her out of the restaurant. As she frog-marched the woman out, she yelled into her ear, “I will not have anyone coming into my restaurant, barging into my kitchen, and abusing my staff! Get out! If I ever see you back here again, I’ll have you charged with trespassing!”

The owner then came back into the kitchen and calmed me down. She told me that this woman was an American tourist who came every summer and always tried some ugly tactic to attempt to get the cook to part with the recipe. She had already tried bribing her, waiting until the end of her shift and following her to her home, and even threatening her. The cook had always managed to send her packing with her typical snarkiness.

She also told me that the only reason the cook wouldn’t give her the recipe is that it required steps to be done in perfect order, with exact timing, and with a very light touch, and she doubted the screaming, overly-entitled tourist nutbar could manage it… and she was just the type to sue her if her attempts at the recipe failed.

We never saw the insane tourist harpy again, thankfully.

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Leaving You Alone Is Something We All Want

, , , , | Right | February 10, 2020

(I am working in a board game store in the mall, helping customers find different games and items during the Black Friday weekend. It has been hectic, but a part of my job is making sure that customers are being taken care of. During the rush, I spot a woman looking intently at our board game wall with some games in her hands, so I decide to make sure she has been helped and see if she has any questions.)

Me: *walking over to her* “Hi there. Is there anything I can help you with or find today?”

Customer: *turning, glaring at me as if I had done something to her* “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?! Honestly! This new generation is so disrespectful!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were on the phone. I just thought you looked like you needed some help, because you were staring at our game wall quite intently.”

Customer: *at the top of her lungs* “How stupid can you be?! I am on the phone; shut up! Honestly, you f****** kids! Such disrespect for adults!”

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t swear; this is a family-friendly store and if you continue yelling and making a scene, I will have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “But I am a f****** paying customer! It is your f****** job to do what I say, and I am saying to leave me the f*** alone!”

Me: “You may now leave the store by yourself, or I will be calling the mall security to escort you out of the store.”

(The customer let out a loud screeching noise before throwing one of the games at me — the largest expansion of a popular railroad game — before bolting out of the store. Luckily, my assistant manager saw the entire thing and the customer ended up being arrested for trespassing and assault. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this in the mall and she had been banned for life!)

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The State Of California Would Like A Word With You

, , , , , | Friendly | February 10, 2020

(There is a tiny island — literally less than 15 square feet — near my house. When I am nine, two friends and I kayak to explore it.) 

Friend #1: *after walking around the whole island* “Okay, so now what should we do?”

Friend #2: “Ooh, I have an idea!” *lights a match* “Let’s make a fire.”

Friend #1 & Me: “No, no, no, no! We are not going to burn the island down!”

Friend #2: “Oh, come on. It’s just a little fire.”

Me: “Okay, first of all, you’re eight, so we aren’t lighting a fire. Second, you are only wearing a bathing suit; like, where did you even get the matches?!”

Friend #2: “I carry them everywhere I go.”

(We kayaked home and she proceeded to light every single candle in my house… without adult supervision, of course. I’m still wondering why parents would let an eight-year-old walk around with matches.)

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Sick Of This Pettiness

, , , , , | Learning | February 9, 2020

I am a teacher. One day, some years ago, I woke up with the flu: delirious from a spiking fever and only able to croak a few words. I was in no shape to teach, so I called in sick.

Half an hour later, a substitute teacher called me for instructions. I told her that I could barely speak but it was also apparent that I had no voice. I was probably rambling a little due to the fever but managed to tell her the lesson plans.

I then hung up and dozed off in feverish dreams. Twenty minutes later, she called again. She had lost her notes, and could I possibly repeat them? I croaked the lesson plans, hung up, and dozed off.

Fifteen minutes later, she called again. She had lost her notes. Could I repeat the lesson plans?

Wheezing and croaking, I went through the lessons for a third time, told her that if she lost her notes again she would have to improvise as I had the flu and couldn’t talk. Just leave me alone.

Five minutes later, the principal called and wondered why I refused to give out the lesson plan to the sub.

He didn’t sound entirely convinced when I told him that I had. Three times in less than an hour.

The sub then called me again screaming that she’d lost the lesson plans and I’d better come to work and instruct her. I had a coughing fit into the receiver and hung up on her.

I was fuming, partly from the fever but also because the sub was trying to set me up. Her daughter was in my class, and a few weeks prior, I hadn’t fussed enough when her daughter was sick. I spoke to the teacher she had for the class after mine so that she would get home quicker, but that wasn’t good enough, and the sub had harassed me for quite a while.

However… My desk was opposite one of the school’s most senior teachers. This was a fabulous teacher who wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion on difficult matters. She was also the next-door neighbour of the sub, and the two hated each other. As the sub was in a foul mood, she fairly quickly began screaming at the other teacher, who in turn screamed back. The sub then began throwing stuff at them!

As they weren’t alone in the room, the sub couldn’t deny that she had begun the attacks, and she was banned from ever working at my school again.

During the screaming match, the sub bragged about how she had harassed me that day and in the previous weeks, so I didn’t end up in any trouble despite her scheming.

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