This is a story that my father is always fond of repeating, describing events that happened when he was a teen.

Living in Norway, especially back in the day, the winters are long, cold, and of course, filled with snow. This means that most schools and other clubs, activities, etc., that deal with kids and teens have very strict rules about what one is allowed to do or not do when it comes to said snow. Especially when it comes to snowballs, those rules tend to be very strict. There’s always a lot of gravel and such used to fight the buildup of ice, which can potentially make the snowballs quite dangerous projectiles, so the rules make sense. To some extent, at least.

My dad had become intimately familiar with those rules, as he had been caught red-handed throwing snowballs on several occasions. This caused him to receive an ultimatum: “No more breaking the rules, or you will be suspended!” To make sure that he knew what the rules were, he was told to study them carefully.

One summer in mid-June, there was a MASSIVE hailstorm — so big, in fact, that by the time it was over, the landscape looked like it was winter with piles of sloppy, icy snow everywhere. Going outside, the adults made sure to remind the kids about the snow rules. They made a point to stop my father at the door.

Teachers: “You know the rules. We will keep an eye on you and expect you to follow them to the letter!“

Cue malicious compliance.

You see, the rules were VERY specific. They specifically stated what you were and weren’t allowed to do with snow. In the winter.

Every single rule started with, “In the winter, you are not allowed to…”

As my father had been forced to study the rules extensively, he knew perfectly well what the rules stated, and he went outside, gathered up a piece of snow, and hurled it at one of his friends. This, of course, sparked a massive snowball fight, after which he was led up to the principal’s office.

Principal: “I assume you know why you’re here?”

Father: “Not really, no. I don’t see how I did anything wrong.”

Principal: “I thought we made it very clear what would happen if you broke the rules one more time.”

The principal pulled out the book of rules and flipped to a page.

Principal: “Mind reading to me this rule?” *Pointing to the rule about snowballs*

Father: “‘During the winter, you are not allowed to throw snowballs… [a whole bunch of text specifying what you were not allowed to throw at, where you were not allowed to throw, etc.]'”

Principal: “So, now that you’ve had a refresher, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Father: “What time of year is it?”

Principal: “…”

My father got off without any further argument, even getting a commendation from his teacher for his “clever way to think outside of the box”. The rules were changed to be a lot less specific about the time of year a few weeks later, though it wasn’t very likely to ever happen again, as hailstorms during the summer are a very rare occurrence in this part of the country.

I worked in a bakery, and this lady came in with those religious notes that are like real-life spam.

Lady: “Can I leave a stack of these by the register?”

Me: “No, I’m afraid not, ma’am.”

So, she hid them around the bakery. She left stack in each bathroom, she tucked some into menus, and some were just on the ground or on seats. As soon as one was found, we went around to throw them all away.

The second time, she was warned: “Do NOT leave any notes.” And of course, she did anyway.

The third time, she actually came in with a wig and big sunglasses. We didn’t recognize her. She left so many notes EVERYWHERE.

The fourth time, the owner threatened to call security on her if she didn’t leave immediately. She had a full meltdown.

Lady: “How am I supposed to save people if you won’t let me?! You’re going to Hell! You’re all going to Hell!”

And so on. She started knocking things off the counter, tipping chairs, and throwing menus and her stupid notes. Luckily, security was quick; she was physically dragged from the store and banned from the bakery.

This happened a few years ago. I was working the last shift at a gas station along a major highway. The manager shouldn’t have put me on the last shift, which went very late, as I was only eighteen years old and studying for college, especially considering that the gas station was a short drive out of town, but he did.

Twenty minutes before closing time, I am behind the counter when I see a smartly-dressed woman in her forties come inside followed by two younger women a few years older than me. They are both scruffily dressed and their clothes do not fit. One of them is wearing a T-shirt and trousers that are about two sizes too small. Both are carrying those cloth bags that you buy from a supermarket to reuse.

Woman: “Can my daughters look around quickly? I promise we won’t be long.”

Me: “Okay.”

I need to tidy the shelves anyway, so I leave the counter. I notice that wherever I go, the woman stays in the same aisle, even closer if one of the two girls is nearby. The girls keep looking at the bars of candy or browsing the rows of clothes. One of the two young women picks up a pretty dress.

Girl #1: “Do you think she’ll let us get this?”

Girl #2: *Sniggering* “The woman who makes you, me, and [Other Girl] wear three bras between us?”

The first girl also starts to giggle, putting the dress back.

Girl #1: “Who knows what’ll happen by the time [Other Girls] starts puberty?”

They keep glancing over chocolate and magazines while I go to count stock. The older woman comes up to me with a T-shirt.

Woman: “Sorry, but could you please take the security tag off for me? I want to pay.”

I go over to the register while the woman keeps going on about the difficulty of finding a good outfit. I soon feel as if she is distracting me. Then, I hear a shout from the two girls. I run over and see that the first girl has fallen on the floor.

Me: “Are you all right?”

Girl #1: “No. My leg hurts.”

I couldn’t see any damage, but I started going into protocol. As I said, I was the only person on shift. My manager had his phone number on a sticky note behind the counter, but my phone was back there. When I tried to get up to leave, the girl whined again.

After what seemed like forever, the woman was standing next to me. I turned to her for help, but she pushed me into a rack of clothing. Before I could get up, I felt the kick of her boot in my face. I heard the three of them running away. When I got up, I found that several items had gone missing and the till was empty.

I called my manager, who then chewed me out for leaving the till unmanned. A total of $316 had been stolen from the register, as well as $276 in goods. Thankfully, my manager didn’t make me pay back the money, but I left that job as soon as I was able to.

I was a bouncer for more than thirty years. In 1998, I worked in a rough nightclub in Leeds. We had so many fights that we actually had to pay extra for West Yorkshire Police to deploy officers outside on Fridays and Saturdays, in the same way that football clubs and concerts had to pay for extra policing.

One night, a young male got into an argument on the dancefloor and smashed a beer bottle over another young man’s head, knocking him out. One of my colleagues saw it and called us on the radio for backup.

We got there, and this guy was threatening everyone with the jagged remnants of the bottle, and he had about seven or eight friends with him who looked like they were up for it. My colleagues and I were outnumbered, but we were good. There was a moment of tense stand-off because this was going to be bloody.

Suddenly, the guy dropped his bottle, raised his hands to his head, and screamed in pain. An older woman had come up behind him and was twisting his ear viciously. The song that was playing finished, and the DJ was so busy watching that he forgot to play the next track, so the whole club could hear what happened next.

Older Woman: “YOU YELLOW LITTLE B*****D! I DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO USE WEAPONS! THAT’S NOT HOW WE FIGHT IN OUR FAMILY! JUST WAIT ‘TIL I GET YOU OUTSIDE!”

And she dragged him the whole way out of the club by his ear whilst he screamed:

Guy: “OW, MUM! OWWWW! LET GO, MUM!”

And yes, a lot of people clapped and cheered.

The lad who got bottled knew the guy who’d assaulted him and did not want to press charges, either because it was just a drunken argument between friends or he intended to deal with it himself.

I work at the customer service desk in a grocery store. Recently, the lottery payout was at almost $2,000,000,000. I had a gentleman come to my window and purchase almost $1,200 in tickets. He made a joke I’ve heard a million times over.

Customer: “If I don’t win, I get my money back, right?”

He even said this while laughing and smiling. I gave him a generic polite smile, and he went on his way.

They drew the numbers the following day, and I heard that someone in California had won. I showed up to my shift, and it seemed to be a normal shift. That was until the gentleman came back. Despite one of my coworkers offering him assistance, he said he wanted to talk with me. I finished with the customer I was with and waved him over.

Before I could greet him he slammed down his pile of tickets, receipt included.

Customer: “Okay, missy, I didn’t win anything! You said if I didn’t win, I would get my money back, so I am here for my full refund!”

I was slightly taken aback. I was trying to figure out if he was being serious or not, and after a moment, I realized he was.

Me: “Sir, regardless of winning or not, all sales on any lottery tickets are final.”

Customer: *Screaming* “NO, NO, NO! You said it yesterday! If I didn’t win, I get my money back! Now refund me before I call the cops and tell them you stole all my money!”

Me: *Calmly* “I understand that you are upset that you lost, but no one has stolen your money. This is just how the lottery system works.”

I could see he was getting more upset and not wanting to hear what I had to say. This was when it became one of those “I don’t get paid enough” moments. He had started getting more and more upset, so he decided to start knocking over a nearby display of candy and glass soda and beer bottles while shouting about how we had stolen his money. I had enough of this and called for both management and security.

Management ended up calling the police while security detained the man, and he ended up causing more than $350 in damages. It was definitely an interesting one.