At the last minute, a friend has invited us to stay in an extra room that they reserved at an area water park. The room is open due to their other friends deciding not to be guests, so we finish our activities and quickly drive up.

In the lobby, I walk up to the front desk and the older employee just stares at me, waiting for me to tell him what I want. I tell him that I am here to pick up keys and wristband while also telling him my name and my wife’s. I also tell him the name of the friend who invited us.

He stares at his screen for a bit before walking to the left to look for wristbands. He says he cannot find our names, so I go outside to try and contact my friends while my wife stays inside to talk to the older employee, who just looks anywhere but the computer and says we are not listed.

I find our friends and tell them what happened, and then I walk with them to the lobby where we encounter a different employee. We tell her the story and she looks at the computer and immediately finds our names. She also walks to the same drawers that the older employee had looked through and finds the wristbands at the top. She immediately apologizes as she wishes us a safe stay.

While we have a free room for a couple of days, the reviews also tell the tale of this resort; there are negative reviews of certain employees. My guess is that he was clocking off soon and wanted to look like he was working.

A guy in my apartment complex decided that he wanted to take his door off so that he could fit some furniture through his doorway. Rather than doing the smart thing and either A) contacting the supervisor about getting the door taken off properly, or B) getting a screwdriver and unscrewing the hinges himself, he decided that it would be a wonderful idea to open the door, jump up onto it, and yank and pull until he literally ripped the hinges out of the doorframe, tearing out part of the door frame, as well.

He then moved the furniture in and then tried to put the door back up, only to discover that ripping out the hinges makes it very difficult to get the door to stay back in place. So, at that point, he called the supervisor to complain about his door being broken. The supervisor misunderstood, thought the guy was reporting a break-in, and advised him to wait outside while he called the police.

The stupidity didn’t end there, however. Apparently, at that point, the idea that he might get in trouble for ripping down his door made its way into his brain, so he decided that it would be best to wait just inside his apartment, with a baseball bat, until the police arrived. So, they entered to see a man crouching down with a baseball bat.

Lucky for him, they didn’t have itchy trigger fingers, but he did end up being forced to pay for the replacement of the door and the door frame. Even after that, he had the audacity to try calling and demanding to be moved into a different apartment, as well as trying to wiggle out of paying by claiming he was never warned about not “removing” his door.

I am taking a bus home from college. It is around a four-hour trip, and unfortunately, the bus is both late at night and has some short plastic chairs, rather than the big soft chairs you see on some buses. So, I have to just lean my back against the window and try to get as comfortable as I can to try and sleep a bit.

The bus has started moving, and I am just starting to doze off when I feel a sudden sharp pain in my ear. I jerk awake and flail a bit, hitting the source of the pain: a young kid who is standing up on his mom’s lap in the seats behind me, and who had leaned forward to BITE MY EAR.

Naturally, the kid starts bawling after getting hit by my flailing arm, and the mom starts screeching.

Mom: “How dare you hit my—”

I’m not really paying attention, instead reaching up to touch my ear, and when I pull my finger away, it is slick with blood. I hold up my bloody fingertips.

Me: “What the h***?!”

Mom: “You can’t just—”

Me: “Why weren’t you—”

We are both shouting over each other at that point, and most of the people on the bus have turned to look. I start to stand up, aiming to stumble up to the front and see about using the first aid kit I’d seen next to the driver. The lady lunges forward, I guess to try and grab me, and I end up batting her hand away and then winding up a punch. At that point, she lifts up her still-bawling kid, apparently to use him as a human shield.

I don’t punch, just grab my bag and stumble to the front amid quite a few glares from some of the other passengers. I get to the front just as the driver finishes pulling over due to the commotion, and the lights come on as he puts the bus in park.

Bus Driver: “What’s going on back here?”

I raise my voice a bit over the woman’s attempts to shout out her version of events. 

Me: “Her kid bit me.”

I tilted my head to show him, and he actually recoiled, because it turns out that the kid had managed to actually tear the top of my earlobe when he bit down and I jerked away. He headed past me to talk to the woman, and an older lady ended up pulling me to sit by her as she used the first aid supplies to fix up my ear as best she could. The lady was still screaming, but most of my focus was stolen by the pain from the antiseptic wipes.

In the end, the driver walked back up past me and started up the bus. The kid kept crying for a good section of the trip but eventually quieted down. I kept glancing back occasionally, and of course, the woman was glaring at me each time, so once the trip finally ended, I hurried to be the first off the bus. I got down and got my luggage from the compartment underneath, and I was turning to go try to find my parents in the parking lot when I spotted something moving toward me out of the corner of my eye.

It was the kid, charging headlong toward me. I jumped back, which meant that when he went to kick my shin, he ended up falling on his butt, instead. Naturally, his mother was right there to start screaming again, so I turned and booked it. I basically dove into my parent’s van when I saw them in the parking lot, and we drove off.

I didn’t end up telling them about what had happened until we were already home; it was dark enough that they hadn’t seen the bandage on my ear. They were both ready to drive back down and see if they could find the woman, and they gave me an earful about how I should have gotten contact details from the driver and such and talked to the police to make sure my side was on record. I ended up spending most of that break paranoid that the lady would show up with the cops to arrest me for hitting her kid or something. Thankfully, they weren’t on my return bus, and I never saw them again.

I work at a well-accredited zoo in guest services; my duties include taking calls, answering questions about the zoo, and selling animal sponsorships and annual passes. It’s a slow, snowy day so we haven’t gotten many calls or guests and we’re bored out of our minds, so when the phone rings, I’m on it right away.

Me: “You’ve reached [Zoo]. This is [My Name] speaking.”

Caller: “Hi, I’m looking to adopt a… um… a monkey or something.”

Me: “Great! Did you have any specific animal you were looking to sponsor? We have quite a few different ones.”

Caller: “I’m not sure; I’m just looking to adopt some kind of primate.”

Me: “Okay, well, we have quite a few species available for sponsorship, including Orangutans, Black-handed Spider Monkeys—”

Caller: “The spider monkeys sound cool. How much is it to adopt one?”

Me: “Our sponsorship packages start at $25. Higher donation amounts will grant you more benefits and have varying levels of tax-deductibility. All packages include your name on a digital sign stating that you sponsored the animal, as well as a few other goodies.”

Caller: “So how much is it to purchase one? I don’t need my name on a sign or anything, just a monkey.”

Throughout this call, I have been using the term “sponsor” specifically because some other zoological facilities will use other terms, like “adopt,” for the same purpose. At this point, I realize he may have other intentions.

Me: “Sir, were you looking to purchase an animal from the zoo?”

Caller: “Yeah… how much is it?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we are an AZA-approved zoological facility. We don’t sell our animals.”

Caller: “Really? D***. I’ve been looking all morning for a place to buy a monkey.”

Me: “You’ll have to look a bit more, then.”

Caller: *Hangs up*

There’s a franchise location of a very popular fast food restaurant in my hometown. I go to this restaurant a lot, and one day, there’s a coupon flyer in my to-go bag. The next time I go to the restaurant, I try to use one of the coupons from the flyer.

Cashier: “We can’t take your coupon. I’m sorry.”

Me: “Why not?”

Cashier: “This location isn’t accepting the flyers. If you look at the coupon, it says, ‘Valid at Participating Locations,’ and we’re not a participating location for that flyer.”

Me: “But I got the flyer here, at this location. Wouldn’t that make you a participating location?”

Cashier: “Um… well… it was the owner’s decision, so I don’t know.”

Me: “Is there a manager I can talk to?”

The cashier shouts for the manager, and he comes out from the kitchen.

Manager: “What’s going on up here?”

Me: “I got this flyer at this location, but your cashier is trying to say that you don’t accept the coupons here. I realize that the flyers are only valid at participating locations, but if you’re giving the flyers out, doesn’t that make you a participating location?”

Manager: “Our owner decided that we were losing too much money because everybody was getting discounts from the flyer, so he decided not to honor the flyer.”

I walked out of the restaurant without ordering and decided to call the restaurant’s corporate customer service line. Corporate was not happy hearing that this location was giving out a flyer only to turn around and not honor the coupons. When I went back to that location a few days later, they were accepting the coupons without any issues.