(I attend a career event with a specialty lab program for high school students and as a second-year, we do individual labs. Our sterile hoods are in a separate area and are quite loud. One of my classmates and I are prepping our hoods while another is in the main lab with our teacher. Glass shatters loud enough for us to hear in the hood room. [Male Classmate] and I look over at each other but continue on with our lab. [Female Classmate] comes in, obviously shaken.)

Female Classmate: “[Teacher] just cussed.”

([Male Classmate] and I are confused, as our teacher is a woman who doesn’t even say “darn” most of the time.)

Me: “What’d you do?”

Female Classmate: “I dropped a beaker.”

Teacher: *entering room* “She dropped it next to my head.”

(I’m going to high school in the late 90s. We have a couple of teachers who have enough tenure that they know they can’t get fired, and are slightly crazy. This makes for some very interesting classes; my chemistry teacher is one of these. A brief bit of background, which will be relevant later: my father is a chemical engineer and taught me quite a bit about chemical reactions. This particular class starts out different from normal, with the teacher having all of us get up and stand out in the hallway. He has us gather around the door, looking into the room. On the counter, he has a large beaker of water.)

Teacher: “We’re going to do the sodium reaction today.”

Me: *thinking* “Cool, this is a pretty fun experiment.”

(I then watch as he goes to the supply closet, brings out the sealed container, puts on gloves, and proceeds to remove a block of sodium about an inch thick and the size of his palm. I’m waiting for him to remove a small piece of it to begin the experiment, but instead, he grips the whole thing between two fingers, stretches his arm out as far from his body as he can, and drops the whole thing in. The instant he lets go, he starts sprinting towards the supply room.)

Me: “Oh, sh–” 

(I barely have time to say the words, as I, too, dive to get out of the doorway.)

Sodium: “KABOOOM!”

(The sodium reacted predictably, with a massive explosion. Water and glass went everywhere, ceiling tiles got singed, and everyone who didn’t know what to expect started freaking out. I am still amazed that the fire alarm didn’t go off, or that no one called the police.)

I came out of work a week or so ago to find that someone had keyed my car. There were scratches all up and down one side of the car, and one of the mirrors had actually been broken off and was laying on the ground. I initially thought someone might have scraped against the car, but the scratches were in big circles that really couldn’t have occurred just from someone scraping across the side.

As I was examing the damages and trying to figure who would do this, I found a scrap of paper wedged underneath my windshield wiper. I pulled it out and found that it was a short note.

It read, “Sorry, needed to vent.”

That was it. Thanks to the fact that my work’s parking lot doesn’t have cameras, they got away clean, so I hope they enjoyed venting $800 worth of damages onto my car.

(My grandma has always had a “my way or the highway” attitude, which has only become more pronounced as she gets older. One day, I’m going to her house to visit her and my grandpa. Since they have a narrow driveway, my family and I always park in the road in front of their house so we don’t block them in. I’ve just parked, and I’m walking up the driveway to the door when the garage opens. My grandma starts backing her car out. I wave, thinking she’ll see me — for reference, I’m wearing a neon green, eye-catching jacket — but she keeps going. I wave even more and yell for her to stop, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. I have to jump into a snowbank to avoid being run over. It’s only after she passes me that my grandma notices I’m there. She stops and gets out of the car.)

Grandma: “Oh, [My Name], I forgot you were coming over! What are you doing in the snow?”

Me: “I had to jump off the driveway so you wouldn’t run me over! Didn’t you see me?”

Grandma: “No, of course not.”

Me: “But… I was pretty highly visible. Weren’t looking behind you?”

Grandma: “I never look behind me when I’m backing out of my driveway. No one should be in my driveway.”

Me: “Um… sometimes people are going to be in your driveway. Like just now. I was in your driveway.”

Grandma: “No one should be in my driveway. There’s no reason to look until I reach the street.”

Me: “There are lots of people who might be in your driveway, Grandma: visitors, the mailman, pedestrians on the sidewalk… Isn’t it better to look than to accidentally hurt someone?”

Grandma: “No one should be in my driveway!”

(She wouldn’t listen to a word of reason. Later that day, I told my parents about the incident. According to my dad, this wasn’t the first time in recent months that she’d almost hurt someone with her lack of driving skills. He managed to convince her to take a driving test that a local hospital administers to determine if a senior citizen is still capable of driving safely. My grandma agreed only to get people to stop bugging her about her driving. She thought she would pass with flying colors. To her great surprise — and no one else’s — she failed and lost her license.)

(I work as a supervisor at a membership store. We have a high turnover rate but a few shining employees manage to stay year after year. One of our cashiers is one example of a good employee: She does not complain about her job, she follows policies, smiles, goes above and beyond for customers, the whole nine yards. But I’ve noticed when she is off the clock that she can be quite cold and prefers to be left alone. This has never been an issue as our company does not try to police what employees do when they are off the clock and out of uniform. Unfortunately, she must reek of retail as customers bother her when she isn’t working. One day, a man approaches her as she is leaving the employees-only area, on her way out.)

Customer: “Where can I find the generic brand [item]?”

Cashier: “I don’t know. I don’t know the new summer inventory well enough to know where they’ve moved things. Why not ask someone else? A manager is right over there.”

Customer: “You know where it is. Tell me, now.”

Cashier: *clearly bothered by his slightly aggressive tone and his obvious refusal to listen to her* “I don’t. Leave me alone. I’m sure some employee up there can help you.” *tries to walk away but he walks in front of her to cut her off* “Go away.”

(He starts yelling at her about “poor customer service” thrown in with some vague threats and I try to intervene.)

Me: “Sir, she is not on the clock. What was the item you needed? I will be happy to show you where it is.”

Customer: “No! Not you! I want this lazy, no-good, millennial, [gay slur] b**** to help me so she learns her d*** place!”

Cashier: *does not look at all surprised and in fact looks quite bored with this situation* “Yeah, I’m going to go home now. See you tomorrow, [My Name].”

(I try to wish her well and hope that is the end of it, but the man grabs the hood on her jacket when she turns and tugs so hard that she falls back and the hood rips. A manager is called and I approach, helping the cashier up.)

Me: “Sir, you have just assaulted someone. Leave or the police will be involved.”

Customer: “I want this stupid [gay slur] to help me!”

(I’m foggy on the details as I step away as the manager steps in to help her while I call the police. Eventually, the man is arrested for assault and taken away.)

Me: “I am so sorry, [Cashier]. Are you all right?”

Cashier: “I guess. I’m just confused as to why he kept calling me gay.”

Me: “Well, whatever the issue was, how about we give you some credit for the cafe for snacks on your breaks?”

Cashier: “I’m fine, [My Name]. Thanks.”

(She’s definitely good at handling these bouts of stress. But as an act of goodwill, the manager bought her a new jacket just like the old one that was ruined and I bought her ice cream from the cafe during her next shift. Thankfully, our company is allowed a backbone. That customer had his membership refunded and revoked, and is now banned.)