A woman comes up to me and asks me for help finding canned black beans. I showed her where they are located and help her find a brand she’s happy with.

Customer: “Thank you so much!”

Me: “No problem!”

I turn to leave, but she grabs my wrist and pulls me back around.

Customer: “No, no, the proper response is ‘You’re welcome,’ not ‘No problem’.”

I wrench my arm out of her grasp.

Me: “Excuse me. You have no business touching any of the staff members here!”

Customer: “How dare you speak to me that way?!”

Me: “I’ve read about people like you on the Internet. I’m afraid that attitude won’t fly in this store. You need to go to the registers and get out.”

Customer: “Who the f*** do you think you are?!”

Me: “I’m an assistant manager, and I am the manager on duty for the day. I’ll escort you out.”

This is where I made what could have panned out to be a fatal mistake: I turned my back on her. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed. With a few quick questions to the hospital staff, I found out that the woman had been brought to the same hospital and was also under arrest. My manager was then brought in to explain to me what had happened ahead of the police coming in to speak to me.

Apparently, as soon as I turned around, the woman grabbed a can of soup and threw it as hard as she could at the back of my head, which rendered me unconscious. She then turned and threatened another customer with an “object out of her purse”. The other customer, not willing to put up with that level of bulls***, rammed her with his shopping cart, breaking her ankle.

The hero customer had then called for help and began first aid while paramedics arrived.

I pressed charges against the woman and won all of my court days. She is currently in prison, and I am working at the same store as the new manager. I met the hero customer after returning to work a few weeks after the incident, and we have now been together for two years, as well. With no lasting health issues, this incident gave me three weeks of paid vacation and a soap opera-style significant other meeting.

Since then, I have never confronted a customer myself again. The store schedule changed to add two more people to the floor, and we were provided with radios and earpieces to communicate. The last thing the previous manager did before leaving was taking us all through training on how to use the new system and how to identify when we should engage and when we should call the police immediately.

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

My boyfriend and I offer sailing holidays. People book a berth in a cabin and live and sail with us for one week. This, of course, means that we actually live with our customers and spend A LOT of time with them in very limited space.

I used to work as a nurse until March 2017. During training, we theoretically learned first aid in a “wild” setting, but that’s very different from emergencies in hospitals where you have a big crew and the right equipment. Still, you know the basics, and you learn how to calmly analyse the situation before making decisions. One of the guests in this story was (is, probably) a gynecologist working in a delivery room, so the situation was pretty much the same for her.

This happened during the summer of 2017, in a marina in Italy.

We arrived at the marina at noon because of an incoming gale. The crew was a bit grumpy over the short day out, but safety first. Next to us was another boat that had stayed in all day, opting for drinking and enjoying the sun in the cockpit instead. They were already pretty drunk.

Our crew got out some bottles of wine and started drinking, too. They were all adults, so there was nothing wrong with that. (Our guests aren’t allowed to drink before or during sailing. Afterward, it’s up to them.) There was a decently-sized motor yacht on the other side. The owner was lonely and invited all of us over. Our crew (minus my boyfriend and I) and some of the neighbours went.

A few hours later, all but two of our guests came back, claiming it was just too much for them. Everyone was drinking very heavily. Those who stayed were the gynecologist and her friend.

In the evening, [Friend] came back; he needed to use the loo. He was angry because the yacht owner would only let him use the one on board if he took his shoes off. (Never, ever enter someone’s boat with shoes on; that’s a huge faux pas. The yacht owner was not asking for something unreasonable with his request.) [Friend] stomped back to our boat, but instead of using the toilet, he just peed on our gangway and started an argument. It was annoying and embarrassing.

We went to bed around midnight. [Gynecologist] and [Friend] were still partying. At four in the morning, [Friend] rushed into our cabin.

Friend: *Yelling* “Someone fell in the water! We need help!”

We rushed over, just in time to see people managing to drag one of the girls from the neighbouring boat back up onto the dock. [Gynecologist] acted correctly and put her in a recovery position, and the woman started to vomit water. The others told us that the girl was leaving the yacht and fell off the gangway, went under the dock, and resurfaced on the other side. Bad, bad, bad. Port and marina waters are notoriously dirty and nothing you want to swim in, even less inhale.

We ran over and my brain was in nurse mode, analysing and planning what to do. My boyfriend and I told the yacht owner to call for an ambulance. This is where [Gynecologist] started to forget her training. She was absolutely wasted and in no condition to be practicing medicine. 

Gynecologist: *Slurring loudly* “An ambulance isn’t necessary! She just needs to sleep it off!”

The woman was in and out of consciousness. My brain was remembering something from training about secondary drowning; she definitely needed an ambulance. As the yacht owner called for one, I rushed back on board my boat to get blankets and then went to guide the ambulance to the right place. After a few minutes, I could hear yelling from the dock and went back.

When I brought the blankets, it kick-started the medical training in [Gynecologist].

Gynecologist: *Screaming at my boyfriend* “You need to get infusions! I need to put in an IV line!”

Boyfriend: “What? No.”

Gynecologist: “You’re a murderer!”

Boyfriend: “One, we don’t have that stuff on board, and two, even if we had it, I would not let you near anyone with a needle in the shape that you’re in.”

More screaming followed.

When the EMTs finally arrived, [Gynecologist] refused to move over so that they could reach the woman. She was trying to explain to them in slurred, drunken German what had happened and was hovering over the woman. The Italian EMTs, of course, couldn’t understand a word that she was saying and were trying to get her out of the way.

Boyfriend: “Would you just move over and let the professionals do their job already?!”

During that time, I was knocking on the door of the neighbour’s boat, trying to wake them up. Someone would need to accompany the woman to the hospital and bring her papers. They were really annoyed at me banging at their boat in the middle of the night. When I told them what had happened, one man let out a loooooong, annoyed sigh and called her name. It sounded like it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

The next day, [Friend] apologized for his behavior the previous day; he was super embarrassed. [Gynecologist], not so much. She saw my boyfriend and screamed at him again.

Gynecologist: “I AM NEVER TALKING TO YOU AGAIN!”

And she stormed off. She kept her word until two days later. Then, she got wasted again and started crying. She felt so belittled because he had called the EMTs “professionals,” and she felt that he didn’t take her seriously as a doctor. She refused to accept that she had been drunk.

The woman who fell off the boat was admitted to the hospital. She was in the ICU for two weeks. She had severe pneumonia from aspirating the dirty marina water, and according to our neighbours, she was close to dying from secondary drowning.

I know that a lot of people associate boating with drinking, but it can turn dangerous so, so fast. The woman was lucky to survive.

It’s a Saturday evening, and we have several new movies coming out at the cinema where I work. We’ve also had a group of pre-teens coming in weekly and causing havoc. At this point, we’ve kicked them out at least five times, but I’ve simply had it.

I’m a team lead at this cinema, owned by a popular cinema entertainment company, so it’s my job to make sure the cinema runs properly; these kids are directly my problem. They’ve been running up and down the halls, and they have been warned already. I’m venting to the other team lead in the box office, and the cop who’s been stationed at the cinema for the evening asks me about it.

Me: “I can’t get these kids to listen to me. I feel bad for kicking them out, but then again, I’ve kicked them out more times than I’d care to admit.”

Cop: “If you want, the next time you get a complaint, I can kick them out instead.”

Me: “Thanks, but I feel like that’d be too mean.”

Almost as if on cue, the cinema’s assistant general manager walks up looking very upset.

Manager: “I just got another complaint about those kids you like dealing with so much. Apparently, they’re throwing candy. I can’t deal with it, since corporate comes in soon, so can you?”

Me: “All right, I’ll go kick them out, I guess.”

I tell the cop that I’ll walkie him if I need assistance.

Thankfully, I find the group in question in the hallway, being loud, blocking the doors and, lo and behold, throwing candy. I approach them and they all greet me by name; that’s how many times they and I have done this song and dance.

Me: “I’m only going to say this once: you guys are out. I can’t deal with you guys anymore. We’ve gotten more complaints than I care to admit, so you guys have to go.”

The leader of the group steps forward.

Kid: “You can’t kick us out! We didn’t even buy these tickets; our parents did.”

Me: “I don’t care. We can refuse service to anyone we see fit. Do as I say, or we’re going to start having problems.”

Kid: “Oh, yeah? What will you do, just ask again? You can’t touch us.”

Me: “Oh, no. I won’t. The cop at the front who has way better things to do than deal with you guys will. And he will not be happy.”

Kid: “Really? Is he [City] Police or [Neighboring City] Police? It matters; I have connections.”

I can’t help but smile.

Me: “Let’s go find out, shall we?”

We head out to the lobby, and the cop is already heading our way. I assume he figured I was fighting with those kids, so he took initiative.

Kid: “Which city police department are—”

Cop: “Doesn’t matter.” *Looks to me* “You kicking them out?”

I nod.

Cop: “All of you, out. There’s the exit.”

The kids try to fight him on it, but he stays firm and seems relatively unfazed. The kid who was spouting about his “connections” looks at me with a completely surprised look and holds his arms out. I return the exact same look, considering I have no clue why he thought that would work.

The cop follows them out to make sure they actually leave. An hour passes before he comes back in; the parents of those kids took forever to pick them up.

I understand I should be enough authority to remove someone from my establishment, but having a cop there to help out is always comforting.

Cop: “If that group comes back and causes more issues, we can do the paperwork and ban them from the establishment. If you see them, you can have them removed.”

They came back, and they were banned.

Content Warning: Alcoholism, Violence

My husband has struggled with alcohol for a long time. For his thirtieth birthday, we invited some friends and family over for a dinner. Before anyone got there, I quietly asked him to be careful with his drinking; he agreed.

Everyone brought something to drink — a bottle of wine, a gallon of vodka, wine coolers — and each person demanded that [Husband] drink with them. After just two hours, he was so drunk he could hardly stand. Then, he got violent, broke a kitchen chair, and punched a hole in the wall.

Suddenly, everyone had somewhere else to be, except one of my male friends. My friend called the police, who came over immediately.

Officer #1: “How much did he have to drink?”

Me: “I don’t know. Everyone else was feeding him shots and—”

Officer #2: “Were you drinking?”

Me: “I had a hard lemonade a while ago, but when he started drinking faster, I stopped.”

Officer #2: *Not believing me* “Just one? Are you sure you’re not intoxicated and overreacting?”

Me: “Breathalyze me.”

The officers did not test either of us, but they did take my husband to the hospital at my friend’s insistence.

[Husband] called the next day to ask to come home.

Husband: “I don’t know why I’m here. The nurse said you called the cops because I was drinking.”

Me: “I called because you were violent and all of your friends and family left me to deal with it. [Friend] was the only one to stay, and I’m glad he did.”

Husband: “I don’t remember them leaving. Come get me and we can talk about this.”

Me: “Come get you? I’m ready to get divorced.”

Husband: “I’m sorry. Throw away the alcohol. I’m done with it. Please.”

I debated for about an hour but decided to go get him. I dumped all the alcohol in the house and picked him up at the hospital. [Officer #1] from the night before was there.

Officer #1: “I don’t believe you called her after she did that to you.”

I didn’t say anything.

Officer #1: “No smart comments today, huh? Good choice.”

When we got home, I told [Husband] about the events of the night. Then, he showed me some videos he took on his phone while he was in the hospital. This one was the two officers, a female nurse, and a male nurse.

Officer #1: “She was probably drunker than he is. He seems fine to me.”

Officer #2: “He’s talking; he’s coherent. I don’t know what her issue was.” *Directly to my husband* “You tell your woman she’s gotta calm down, man! We got other s*** to do!”

Male Nurse: “Well, his blood alcohol is .305, so that probably has something to do with it.”

Female Nurse: “Glad you brought him in. He could have died.”

He called a couple of his friends to apologize for his behavior. Those who held him responsible are still in our lives. Those who laughed it off, blamed me directly, or agreed with the officers and said I was overreacting are no longer a part of our lives.

I spoke with the local police force about the things the officers said in the video. Unfortunately, we live in a state where everyone has to consent to being recorded, and since they didn’t consent, the video was useless.

On the plus side, my husband celebrated three years of sobriety in March of 2022.

I have a four-year-old son who I co-parent with my ex. I pick him up from his mother’s house and decide mini golf would be a fun activity for us and my girlfriend to do.

Ex: “Are you sure mini golf is a good activity? I’m concerned [Son] might hurt himself, you, or [Girlfriend] swinging that putter around.”

Me: “It will be okay. I’ll be sure to tell him not to swing hard, and I’ll carry the putter to each hole.”

We get to the course and [Son] is excited to see the obstacles. He listens to me perfectly until we get to the fourth hole, which is dinosaur themed.

Son: “T-REX!”

I put his ball down, hand him his putter, and step to the side. He then screams a little battle cry and swings back as far as he can, and before I can stop him, he hits the ball, which ricochets off the T-Rex and hits me in the side of my head near my eye.

[Girlfriend] and I decide it’s best to take [Son] back to his mom while I recover from a possible concussion. [Girlfriend] drives us while letting out little giggles. We both walk [Son] to the door. [Ex] sees the large bruise on my face.

Ex: “Are you okay?”

Me: “I’ll be fine. I’ll see what my doctor has to say and go from there.”

Ex: “You know, it has been a long time since I’ve said this to you…”

I think she’s going to say something reassuring.

Ex: “I told you so.”

[Girlfriend] collapsed to the ground with laughter, and I grimaced, knowing [Ex] was right.