I don’t mind fireworks; when done properly they can be good to watch.

Once a year, we will pick out a small selection of the quieter ones and set them off in the garden. We live in a built-up, family-friendly area, so we give the neighbours a heads-up and it tends to be a short display.

A new neighbour recently moved in across the way, instantly upsetting many; they drive over common grass and tear it up, play loud music, and have suspicious numbers of visitors. We luckily live far enough away not to be bothered by them, until bonfire night.

They start letting off fireworks when it is still light and carry on for hours. Eventually, the police arrive — more to deal with the rowdy behaviour than the fireworks — and we get some quiet. But it’s not for long, and soon they are back to the same as before, if not much worse.

A few days later, a plea goes out on our local Facebook group. A local resident is asking for help after a “freak accident” set their shed on fire. They go on and on with a sob story and saying how nice everyone is who offered help

That is, until one eagle-eyed person recognises that this was posted by the same unruly neighbour from bonfire night, and the fire was only started because they were drunk and throwing the fireworks at the joining fence.

All the offers of help and free tools and toys are withdrawn as the poster devolves into a shouting match before being kicked from the group completely.

I can still see the remnants of the shed from the road. It looks like no one wanted to help them after all.

I work for a prominent hotel chain as a security guard and bouncer. This hotel hosts a very large annual science-fiction convention. I’m a fan, and I get to meet a lot of authors and artists — including Phil and Kaja Foglio! — and I buy some neat stuff. The con staff do a fairly decent job of keeping things organized.

The biggest problem is some of the fans.

One morning, I get a sort of panicky call from the hotel café about a guest creating a disturbance. I bob and weave my way through the tide of early-rising Klingons, Imperial Storm Troopers, Daleks, Vulcans, and hordes of other creatures and characters. When I get to the café, I immediately discover the problem.

There is a woman there; she is hard to miss. She is wearing an apparently homemade “costume” which resembles mosquito netting… and nothing else. Everything is clearly visible.

She is drunk and/or stoned, combative, and as reasonable as a rabid wolverine with a toothache. And she stinks. She refuses any suggestion to change her attire. It’s only after I have called the police for assistance that she makes an attempt to cover herself. She grabs three cocktail napkins and stuffs them under her mosquito netting until they cover her nipples and genital area.

This is still not acceptable attire for anywhere, least of all a dining facility. She expresses her displeasure at great length and with many profanities, not stopping even after the police repeat the instructions to cover up or leave.

She makes several pointed references to “pigs,” which she thinks is amusing. The police are less than amused and escort the woman out of the hotel in handcuffs. She is issued a summons for public indecency and released to her vehicle after being told not to return to the hotel. Ever.

Not an auspicious start to the day for anyone involved.

CONTENT WARNING: VIOLENCE

The thrift store where I work has a large warehouse attached, with a garage door that is opened at all times. The first thing you see when approaching the building is the garage door, but the entrance is a bit further up ahead. It makes many people think that they can enter the store through the warehouse, and we mostly politely send them in the right direction if they do.

A woman in her twenties comes wandering into the warehouse.

Coworker: “Excuse me, this is the warehouse, not the store. Would you please go back outside and walk around to the entrance?”

Out of nowhere, she starts flipping tables and shoves stuff off the racks.

Customer: “You w****! Don’t tell me what to do! Stupid b****!”

She starts attacking and hitting my coworker, an older lady, in the face! Another coworker, also a senior lady, rushes over to help. She also takes a pounding, but they manage to drag the frantic woman outside, who is still kicking, hitting, and screaming.

The next day I come to work, I hear the story and I call over my coworker:

Me: “[Coworker], I heard you got beat up yesterday? Must have been scary!”

To my surprise, she giggles.

Coworker: “Yeah, I guess she was some druggie or something. Her pupils were huge! She managed to snap my glasses right in two! But hey, can’t say this job is dull now, can I?”

Related:
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 23
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 22
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 21
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 20
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 19

It is Saint Patrick’s Day, which falls on a Sunday this year. I just throw on my uniform and run to work as a cashier, not really remembering about the holiday. We wear khaki pants and a navy blue polo shirt with the company logo on it, so no green. No one really says anything except a couple of customers who make jokes about it, until this one lady comes through my line; she is totally normal until the end of the transaction.

Me: “Your total is [amount]; cash or card?”

She turns to the bagger, who is a minor, so his badge is a different color than mine, which happens to be green.

Customer: *Very intensely* “Are you wearing green?!”

The bagger points to his badge and smiles.

Bagger: “Yes, ma’am.”

The customer turns to me.

Customer: “What about you?!”

I laugh politely.

Me: “No, ma’am, I forgot about it this morning.”

Customer: “Well, then, you need to be pinched.”

She reaches across the register making a pinching motion. It takes a moment for the fact that she isn’t joking to register. By this time, we have completed the transaction and I have her receipt in my hand to give to her.

Me: “Haha…”

I realize that she is dead serious and it doesn’t seem like she wants to play; from her motions, she wants to take a piece out of my arm.

Customer: “You have to be pinched!”

I back away, wondering what I have gotten into.

Customer: *To her husband* “Pinch her! She isn’t wearing green!”

He is a little closer to me, getting their groceries. He sighs like this isn’t the first time and just tells her to let it go.

Me: *More serious now* “Ma’am, I will give you your receipt but do not pinch me.”

I hand it to her by the edge, keeping as much distance as possible between us. She leaves, yelling about the fact that I need to be pinched. I half expect her to run back in and tackle me. The poor sixteen-year-old bagger has been standing there with a WTF face the entire time, holding his badge in front of himself like a shield.

Me: *Heavy sigh* “Welcome to retail, where customers forget we are people, too, and might not want to be pinched by a stranger.”

This story is part of the Saint Patrick’s Day 2022 roundup!

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There is a waterfront trail near where I live which has a large breakwater along the side of it made from compacted flat stones. The flat stones are a lot of fun to build with and people often build Inukshuks — traditionally indigenous stone people — from the stones.

One night, I am walking along the trail and I see a guy get off his bike and climb onto the breakwater to build an Inukshuk. A few minutes later, a big black truck drives up and parks illegally in front of the breakwater. The truck is huge, freshly washed, and left running the whole time. 

Out hops a skinny guy in a black T-shirt and camo pants. He climbs up on the breakwater and starts kicking over the Inukshuks people have built on it. When he sees the other man building an Inukshuk, [Camo Pants] walks up to him and kicks it over, right as the man is bent over trying to put one of the rocks in place, nearly kicking the other man in the face in the process.

The guy straightens up and looks at camo pants.

Guy: “Hey, man, you just trying to be a d**k?”

Camo Pants: “Yep!”

The guy looks at the large square stone in his hands.

Guy: “Funny. Me, too.”

And the guy threw the large stone as hard as he could through the windshield of [Camo Pants]’s truck, hopped on his bike, and took off.

This story is part of the Editors’ Choice 2021 roundup!

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This story is part of our Best Of March 2021 roundup!

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