Poke The Dog And Wake Up The Pitbull

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 20, 2018

(I am attending an annual street festival. It is dog-friendly, so I have brought my dog along. My dog is a Boston Terrier, a type of dog that has bulbous eyes. I’m sitting on the curb finishing a hot dog when I notice that a child near me has started to try to poke my dog in the face with a stick.)

Me: “Hey, sweetie, don’t do that. You could really hurt my dog.”

(The kid says nothing and gives me a funny look, but puts the stick down and turns away from me and my dog, so I think it’s over. About a minute later, the little jerk picks the stick back up and jabs my dog right in the forehead.)

Me: “Hey, kid! Stop doing that to my dog!”

(The kid looks me right in the eyes and then positions the stick to jab my dog again. I grab the stick and wrestle it away from the kid. The kid’s inattentive mother runs over from the other side of the street.)

Mother: *yelling* “What are you doing!?”

(For a few seconds, I think she is yelling at her kid. She, however, stomps right in front of me and continues yelling.)

Mother: “Don’t you dare tell my child what to do! You have no right to tell my child anything! You stay away from my kid!”

Me: *trying to stay calm* “Your child could have seriously hurt my dog. I was just—”

Mother: *cuts me off and keeps screaming* “Then you come get me!”

(I am seriously at the end of my rope now, and we have already gained an audience, so I decide that going to this woman’s level is the only way to solve this.)

Me: *yelling as loud as I can* “SHUT UP!”

(The woman surprisingly does, and recoils slightly.)

Me: *still yelling* “How the f*** am I supposed to go get you when you are all the way on the other side of the street, doing God knows what, when your stinking brat is trying to hurt my dog?! How the f*** am I supposed to know who his mother is? You think I’m going to just sit here and wait for you to show up and learn how to be a parent? Also, if you can’t even pay attention enough to make sure your kid isn’t poking animals in the eye with sticks, are you going to even notice if someone tries to kidnap him? Why don’t you watch your f****** kid, and do the world a favour and don’t procreate again?!”

Inattentive Mother: *spluttering* “Don’t you swear in front of my child. I’ll go get one of the police officers and—”

Me: “You think they haven’t heard us yet, lady? Look! They’re already watching! I’m done for the day, so I don’t care if they kick me out. How do you think they’re going to react to the fact that your kid is trying to injure animals? I have witnesses!”

(The mother’s face had gone bright red by then. She grabbed her kid and started to drag him away. The kid then started screaming that he “wanted to play with the doggy.” I just got up, threw away my hot dog wrapper, and walked my dog home.)

Jiu Jitsu Believe It?

, , , , , | Learning | March 19, 2018

The gym teacher of my school was also the coach of our local soccer team. When this story happened, I had been doing German jiu jitsu for nine years, was currently preparing for the southern German championship, and simultaneously had a D in gym class for the fifth time in a row. The reason for this was that, in the eyes of my gym teacher, anyone who wasn’t on the soccer team had to be unathletic and have no interest in sports. He pretty much made us play soccer every class, only focused on the boys he knew from his team, and gave everyone else a D at the end.

After a while I was fed up with it. I was getting a D, no matter what. I stayed in my classroom doing homework when gym class started, until a classmate came to bring me to the teacher. When I got there, he immediately laid into me, accusing me of being a lazy, entitled kid, only playing computer games all day, etc.

Knowing it wasn’t true, I kept my cool and waited for him to run out of steam to explain my protest. This didn’t work out. He kept getting angrier by the minute. After a while he started to come closer and closer to me. To avoid physical confrontation, I backed up, and kept going until I arrived at the wall. He kept coming nearer, and after he grabbed my shirt, routine kicked in. I threw him to the ground. Apparently, this caught him by surprise and he hit himself in the face while trying to keep his balance. Then his nose started bleeding.

He got up without a word and left the gym. After 20 minutes, my class decided he was not coming back, and we went to our classroom. Some minutes later, the principal arrived with two police officers. They took me out of the class and explained that the gym teacher told them I attacked him. I tried to explain my side of the story, but the principal wouldn’t have any of it. My parents were called in and they took me home. We were told I was suspended until further notice, and that they’d get back to us when they knew if the gym teacher would press charges. They told us it would be best to consider a voluntary change of school. My parents didn’t know who to believe. After all, I was a teenager, and they knew the teacher and I weren’t getting along.

They took me out of my jiu jitsu dojo and started looking for other schools, saying it would be best that way. That might have been the end of it, but a friend told me after a while that apparently a student made a video with his phone. After seeing it, my parents finally sided with me and immediately confronted the principal who, sadly, still seemed to side with his teacher. After contacting a lawyer, we learned that our chances were slim at best. We were discouraged, and again began looking for other schools. However, the other parents of the soccer team now knew what really happened. The team soon decided to do what the school wouldn’t, and kicked the coach to the curb. This hit him where it really hurt. He moved soon after. I finished school with an A in gym class.

There… Were… Four… Rings!

, , , | Right | March 19, 2018

(I work at a small coffee shop that opens at five am. As the head baker on staff, I come in at three am to bake and decorate all the pastries and food my assistants prep the night before. There are no baristas in the building until at least four-thirty. At around four am, the phone starts to ring while I’m dipping donuts in chocolate, so I have to take a moment to wash my hands off before picking up the phone.)

Me: “Hello, this is [Store]. How may I help you?”

Customer: *literally screeching into the phone* “IT TOOK FOUR EFFING RINGS FOR YOU TO PICK UP THE PHONE!”

Me: *slightly taken aback, I don’t do much work with customers so this hasn’t happened to me before* “Well, I’m sorry, but—”


Me: “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”


(I am getting frustrated and want to bash my face against a wall.)

Me: “Sir, if you can’t tell me what you want, then I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to wish you a good morning and end this conversation.”


Me: “Yes.” *hangs up, knowing I’m about to say something super rude, otherwise*

(Not even a minute went by and I heard banging on the front door, so I peeked out the little pass-through window to the front, knowing it was too early for it to be a barista. Pounding on the glass and yelling with a very familiar voice was the man from the phone. He stood there screaming that I needed to let in paying customers, that he knew people were there, and that he demanded to be let in. I texted the store owner, who got there with the police fifteen minutes later and banned him from the property.)

Why Oh Wyoming

, , , , | Right | March 17, 2018

(On my first day working in a video game store, I hear loud, drunken rambling outside. I go out to find an extremely irate man screaming and pointing at one of the other employee’s cars. I ask what the problem is.)

Me: “Dude. What’s the deal, man?”

Customer: “This f***** parked his car over the line!”

(The employee, who happens to be female, has parked her car — a large range rover — with one of the front tires barely over the line.)

Me: “Listen. I’m going to have to ask you to stop screaming and swearing out here, all right? This is a small town and people get scared by that kind of stuff.”

Customer: “I’m from f***ing De Moines! I’ve seen scarier s*** every f***ing morning!”

Me: “I understand that, dude, but you really don’t want to scare these people.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah? Why not?!”

(The guy starts to bump into me with his chest, pushing me against the wall. Just then, the manager walks out aiming his .44 magnum revolver that he always open-carries.)

Manager: “Because everybody in Wyoming has one of these, and you don’t want to scare somebody with one of these.”

(The manager pulls the hammer back.)

Manager: “Right now, you’re scaring me.”

(The customer stared in horror down the barrel of the gun and swiftly got in his car and drove off.)

What Happens When You’re Spoon-Fed Religion

, , , , | Right | March 15, 2018

(I work at a canteen inside an office building. I have served a woman who has gone to pick up the cutlery for her meal. She returns with a fork in hand.)

Woman: “This is a fork. I want a spoon.”

Me: “Spoons are right next to the forks.” *points at the table she was just stood at*

Woman: “But I want this to be a spoon.” *grabs my arm tightly* “Let’s pray.”

(She closes her eyes and starts muttering. I think it’s Hebrew, but as I have never been religious, I’m not 100% certain. She opens her eyes and glares at the fork in defeat before shouting at me:)

Woman: “YOU DIDN’T PRAY HARD ENOUGH!” *throws fork at me and leaves*

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