There’s a scam where people from India call Americans with “job offers” and ask for “the right to represent” you. After 20 years, I’ve never so much as gotten a phone screening from this b*******. I have asked them to stop calling. I have requested they put me on a Do Not Call List. I have blocked every number that has called. Nothing worked until I started refreshing m high school Spanish on DuoLingo, and answering every call from a number I don’t recognize in Spanish.

A phone number from Virginia calls. I’m in Ohio now, but I have a Massachusetts telephone number.

Me, in Spanish: “Hello! Good day!”

VA number with Hindi accent: “Hi, I would like to speak with (mispronunciation of my name).”

Me, in Spanish: “She is not here.”

VA number with Hindi accent: “Can you please speak English?”
(At this point, I almost reply in English that I will speak my native tongue only to people who aren’t scamming me.)

Me, in Spanish: “I’m sorry, I don’t speak English.”

Hindi guy hangs up.

I roll my eyes, because I speak better Spanish than he speaks English. Hopefully they stick me on a do not call list and stop wasting my time. I’ve been getting fewer spam calls since I started doing this.

(I’m on my lunch break from work when I get a phone call from an international number.)
Me: Hello?
Scammer: Hello ma’am my name is [scammer] I’m calling from McAfee about your renewal.
(I watch scam baiters on YouTube, and he sounds like one that was on one of their streams lately. I would love to waste his time but I am about to go back to work so I decide to shut it down.)
Me: Look, I know you’re full of s*** and you don’t even know what my name is, so how can I be a customer of yours?
Scammer: I know what your name is.
Me: Oh? Then why didn’t you ask for me by name when I answered the phone?
(The scammer goes quiet before hanging up)

I witnessed this conversation in the break room. Coworker #1 is a married woman; Coworker #2 is a single woman, and is constantly fending off advances from sleazy male customers who think that means she’ll drop everything to f*** them. The two often spent time chatting during their break.

Coworker #1: Finally started reading [Manga Series] yesterday. I can see why [Husband] enjoys it so much, the artist knows how to draw a fight scene.

Coworker #2: You seriously think that’s why he enjoys that s***?

Coworker #1: Hey, no spoilers! I’m only halfway through the third volume!

To her credit, [Coworker #2] immediately apologized and insisted her grievance had “nothing to do with spoilers”; a name-drop, apparently, didn’t count as a spoiler, so she rattled off a list of names to see which ones [Coworker #1] recognized.

Coworker #2: Then you’re far enough along to see that the human dumba** is surrounded by horny sl**s. It’s a bunch of cheap wish fulfillment is what it is.

Coworker #1: (looking at her like she’s grown a second head) Are you f***ing kidding me?

Coworker #2: Oh, don’t act like that’s not what-

Coworker #1: You spend every day dealing with the jacka**es who won’t listen when you tell them you’re not interested. Do you really think being surrounded by people who don’t respect that you have no sexual or romantic interest in them is <i>wish fulfillment</i>?

[Coworker #2] sputtered some half-hearted excuses about how “that’s different”, stormed off, and was seen to ignore [Coworker #1] during breaks for several weeks thereafter.

About six years ago I went to the GP to talk about getting a birth control implant. I have ADHD and was struggling with remembering to take a pill every day, so it was decided I’d get a hormonal implant. This involves making a cut in the upper arm and inserting a small rod with a few years worth of birth control in it, which I was totally fine with.

The day of the appointment came and the GP assured me that with the local anaesthetic, I wouldn’t feel anything but pressure. She injected the anaesthetic, then after a few minutes said we’d start the procedure. I don’t like needles so I’d turned my head away and winced a bit when I felt the needle go in but hadn’t made any kind of big deal about it.

Me: can we wait another few minutes please? I don’t think the anaesthetic has set in yet.

GP: no, I have other patients to see I can’t waste time on you because you’re scared.

Me: I’m not scared, I just don’t think it’s set in yet. I can still feel your fingers on my arm.

GP: don’t worry it’ll be fine.

She made the initial incision and I hissed in pain, at which she tutted.

Me: the anaesthetic hasn’t set in yet, I felt that.

GP: you’re overreacting, it’s just pressure it doesn’t hurt.

Me: it does hurt, I can feel the sharp cutting pain where you’re cutting me with a sharp scalpel.

GP *without looking at me, still preparing the implant*: It’ll be done in a second, you’re just scared.

She then shoved the implant into my arm with what felt like unnecessary force and put a single stitch across the wound. I know it was a single stitch because I felt the needle go in and out of my skin, and the tugging pain as she tied the thread. She then shooed me out of the room with a handful of leaflets I had to hold in my right hand because the anaesthetic had only just then set in.

I spent the next few hours without the proper use of my left hand (my dominant hand) because I was mostly numb from the elbow down. Perceptive readers will note that the implant was put in my upper arm *above* the elbow, meaning the GP had injected me too low in the first place and it wouldn’t have been numbed even if she’d waited like I asked.

Three years later when the implant ran out I went to get it removed, only to learn she’d shoved it in so deep removing it would risk nerve damage. So now I have a bit of metal and plastic permanently embedded in my arm. But at least that GP saved 5 extra minutes, I guess. And yes, I should have made a complaint at the time, but I was distressed and in pain and terrified of confrontation. I have since learned to stand up for myself.

This just happened a half hour ago and it made me laugh. I get it that paradigms about transportation are evolving. Am I a bit irked that my daily commute is messed up by a multi-million dollar bike lane project with no apparent bike activity? Yes, but I remember when decades ago I had to survive my city commute on a bike and try not to get killed, so I’ll take the inconvenience to me thinking that cyclists’ safety is important. Thus, it concerns me that cyclists of all ages seem to feel they have the right to weave in and out of traffic, run red lights and make pedestrians jump out of the way on sidewalks. A little bit of arrogance and entitlement goes a long way.

Same goes for some EV drivers. They want free charging stations and think that because their cars run on electrons that they are squeaky clean even though those electrons are generated by fossil fuel plants, nuclear power plants, or hydroelectric dams – all with environmental costs.

Well, I came across one of the latter type on my way home from work. I needed to put some gas in the car and pick up a couple of things. I was just done filling my tank with that good ol’ gasoline (as I can’t afford a newer car, let alone an EV) when this woman pulled around the gas island, her electric car barely buzzing, and shot me the finger while demonstrating just what real torque and acceleration was. Her visage was the definition of smugness as she passed me. I will never know what her expression was a few seconds after as she, while trying to boot it into the street, found herself high centred on the parking lot curb. The crunch was impressive. Less impressive was the gentle whine her granola car made as she tried to get out of her predicament.

I locked up my gas cap and went into the store to buy some snacks. As I got back to my car she managed to find some traction and shot out of the parking lot (narrowly avoiding two cars in opposite lanes) and sped off to…. maybe try to complain to a manager? Try to get insurance or the car maker pay for what was probably expensive damage? I’ll never know. All I do know is my car, condemn me if you like because it runs on gasoline, still runs. Regular maintenance and not pulling a hissy fit that distracts me to the point that I drive over concrete obstacles helps.

I never engaged with this woman other than a quick glance and was an uninvolved (if silently gleeful) spectator for the rest of the debacle.

If there’s a moral to the story it’s maybe, just maybe, don’t get mad at strangers for no reason and that if you feel the need to do so, keep your eyes on the road.